Pippin
Well, it's been a while.
- Location
- Toronto
- A Skier
- Yes
- Skiing
- ------ Note: looking upon this several years later, I've decided to keep this up, if not just as an ode to my youth. Pardon my young tongue. ---------
When i grow up i want to be a ski bum
and i think i will ski till i physically cant any more, who would stop skiing?
Okay rewind back to when I was in grade 6,
back to the kid I was with a pre-pubescent squawky voice. Growing up in the big
metropolis of Toronto, yes I was a born and
bred city slicker. It all began as a school
trip, it was late January, the place-Horseshoe
Valley, a fine specimen of a hill with the
ridiculous vertical rise of 95 metres, and the
longest run being 671 metres. The condition in
Southern Ontario are like no other, with
beautiful shiny ice strips and patches right
around every corner of groomers, it was easy
to see myself as a bobsledder of skiies.
But I digress, arriving with +100 gapers from
my school, myself included, in grade 6, the
dilemma of properly fitting boots to a hundred
plus kids caused chaos and havoc, but I
persevered as one of the first kids out the
door with ski, poles and all-goggles not
included.
Now with the TDSB (Toronto District School
Board)- strict son of a guns- you have to get
stickers: red, blue, green being the final one
to allow you to different part of the hill.
I am not sure how but I managed to slide my
ass down the icy sloops to achieve my green
sticker, allowing full mountain (really?)
privileges.
The rest of the day consisted of races and
yardsales, many, and the day that started my
joy and passion for skiing. Just out on the
snow, having a great time with friends, and
isn’t that the whole point of skiing, let
alone life. The seed was planted, in a
metaphorical sense, and from that day on I’ve
been thinking, dreaming, talking, watching and
writing about skiing. I remember the nights
before i would go skiing, i would be so
pumped, and stoked just thinking about ripping
lines, a long time before the park picture
came into my head.
Just the feel when you know you are the first
one down a run, or a line, even if it is a
groomer. The fresh S’s are carved, imprinted
into one of Mother Nature’s greats gifts to
mankind (fire is so overrated), soon to be
washed out by others.
Aptly describing what skiing is, and means to
me, can only be done successfully by looking
at the smile that gleams across my face at the
end of an epic line, or newly learned trick.
Since that day long ago in the 6th grade, I
have skied everywhere in Southern Ontario,
including the private resorts. My first full
year (a ski year in Ontario is roughly 4.5
months) consisted of Sunday lessons. Lessons
might sound lame, but to me it meant
guaranteed skiing at least once a week. And
hey, lessons were only half a day so I could
spend the 2nd half, doing whatever the hell my
heart desired. My skiing has even led my
family to Quebec to ski a small portion of
their great mountains, and out west to
Colorado, a trip of a lifetime. (If you ever
find yourself in Copper with nothing do, hit
up the free cat skiing, as it will put the
cherry atop almost all ski trips)
Although my pow day can be counted on one
hand, I still cringe( I’ve got therapy for the
cutting) when the skies are full of falling
flakes and I’m stuck at the prison, the
government officials like to refer to as
“schoolâ€. Maybe my time has come to just move
out west and start my dream as a ski bum.
- Hobbies
- Sure, let us ski.
- Photography
- Seeing things differently, it's what we do.
www.pippinlee.com
- Home Mountain
- The world
Contact
- Skype
- pippin9
Signature
If at first you don't succeed, failure may be your thing-Warren Miller
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