Confessions: The Choice

Confessions (of a Volunteer Adaptive Ski Instructor): The Choice.

~~~ *** ~~~

Life is full of choices, most are simple, like "Do I turn left or right?"

Others are more complex. Then there are the ones you don't want to take, that sometimes end in a very successful conclusion.

Today was definitely one of those successful conclusions. Despite having taken a very dubious choice to join this particular ski trip.

Skiing towards me down the piste was the petite, 5 foot high, ski Barbie girl, clad in all in black, tight ski gear, with her blond braided hair flapping behind her. She came right up to me, stopping abruptly to hug and reach up to kiss me full on the lips, laughing. Having been on many ski trips, this was not a common occurrence for me, but one I was happy to endure.

"Thank you. Me Katrine, much happier now. I feel better, very safe." She declared in an Eastern European accent, whilst pecking another kiss on my cheek with her bright red lips.

"Me, er, I'm Dave, this is Tim and Graham," I replied, introducing my two fellow skiers.

I am a volunteer ski buddy with two disabled standing skiers, and we were high in the Alps. We are bathed in sunshine, with blue skies overhead, standing in a saddle on the mountain ridge that separates Italy from Switzerland. In front of us beckoned our destination back in Italy and behind us was Switzerland, which we had visited that morning.

Hoping Katrine would make a good choice selection, I asked, "We are returning to Italy, Cervinia. Do you want to ski back to Italy with us?"

She shook her head, "No, I am tired, no like, but I go to Italy, my chalet in Cervinia."

Opposite us stood a refuge and the top station of the Italian side Gondola, which will take her back down into Italy and the ski resort of Cervinia.

"Katrine, see the refuge, walk there, have a rest and have a coffee, okay? Then catch the gondola there, to take you down to the Plan Maison station. But then only ski blue piste, okay? Only ski the blue pistes." Hoping she will in future stick to pistes more suitable to her experience level.

"But bend the knees, like this? Not like this." I demonstrated the difference between bending her knees and 'sitting on the toilet'. She laughed at my instruction and another hug and a kiss. She removed her skis and started walking over the piste to the timber refuge perched on the far edge of the piste.

Watching her walk away from us, I pondered on all the choices I had taken to reach this point. As she turned to wave goodbye, I hoped we would both make the right choices to meet back up again in the coming week.

~~~ *** ~~~

Several choice selections had brought me to this point:

Several years ago, I chose to volunteer at a disabled ski club. Now at 22 years old, I am a volunteer adaptive ski instructor, rather than a professional ski instructor. Within ski circles, this makes me the lowest of the low, because I've not done 'n' number of winter seasons at 'X' resort, nor do I have the international qualifications to run and train an Olympic racing team. The reason for this choice is that I already have a career. I work at an engineering company that is paying me a wage whilst training me and sending me to college.

Just three weeks ago, I agreed to join this ski trip as a favour to one of the several charities I volunteer with. Because it would enable two standing disabled skiers their only opportunity to ski this season. They run this trip only for able-bodied ski friends, and the group comprised several people I don't even like. So maybe I chose the wrong option, choosing to go. But it would keep me in good favour with the charity, so I hoped it may benefit me in the long run.

Luckily I have a deal with my work, if I deliver parts to an Austrian customer I could use their van, so long as I didn't trash the company van. Having already done this before, I had suitable snow chains and van heater, so I can kip in the van to save on hotels when driving down. I left straight after work on Thursday night with my skis and equipment in the van. Going via the channel tunnel, I arrived at the Austrian customer's factory early Friday afternoon. I then drove on through to Italy.

Being my third visit to the ski resort of Breuil-Cervinia, I was driving a familiar route up the valley. This is the highest Italian resort in the Alps, making it very snow sure. The additional benefit is the ability to ski out of Italy, into Switzerland, to possibly the most expensive ski resort of Zermatt. Possibly the most dangerous mountain in Europe, the impressive Matterhorn separates both resorts.

Cervinia is a lovely flowing resort, being more of a large bowl rather than just a narrow single valley. It has some great intermediate pistes, and perfect for the two skiers I will be looking after. They promised me at least 2 free days to free ski, which I love as I will talk to anyone on a chair lift and always end up meeting and skiing with other single skiers.

The one skier's family were funding my hotel bill, so long as I shared a room with him. This choice was simple as it saves me money and Tim is fine. Whilst older than me in his late twenties, over 6 feet tall, he is slightly autistic with learning difficulties. But I have shared with him previously, and he is no problem. You just have to encourage him to shower each day and make sure the others don't take advantage of his father's wealth to get him to buy their drinks.

Graham, the second skier in my care, is far older than my dad. He is well into retirement, partially sighted, with little depth perception. So he can struggle in cloudy or low light conditions when he requires a target to follow, so I have my bright red ski jacket with me. He is a nice guy and knows when he has reached his limit and prefers to stay safe and ski the next day.

I arrived mid-morning to find the hotel was close to one of the main chair lifts, making the first lift of the day an easy walk in ski boots. So the next choice was to stay in town for rest, beer and a pizza or get half a day skiing in. So in the back of the van, I slipped on my ski gear, brought a half-day ski pass and caught the chairlift up the mountain.

I definitely won this decision. The day was sunny with blue skies, giving me perfect snow conditions and with it being change-over day the pistes were empty. I sped around my favourite runs to recover my ski legs. I wasn't looking forward to returning to the hotel.

Finally, I couldn't avoid it any longer. Grabbing my gear out of the van, I went to the hotel reception to collect my room and boot locker keys. I put my skis and boots in the locker and went up to the room to meet Tim. The first night was the usual piss-taking from the usual older useless party hangers-on.

I then discovered a bonus. A Welsh mate Gareth had chosen to join the trip. He is only two years older at 24, and he is a 'bucketer' like me. We often work together, both whizzing disabled skiers around UK indoor ski slopes and European Mountains in the ski season. Our skiers sit inside disabled ski chairs (known as 'buckets' or 'sit skis') to enjoy the freedom skiing gives us.

We are both 5 foot 6 inches high, similar short hair & ghost beards. We both enjoy a visit to a gym, love skiing, and are at similar skill levels. Gareth and I get on great, this could be his last ski opportunity for a while because he is about to start a new job in London. Gareth has a gift of chatting women up, so I often end up as his 'wingman' when we are out. This meeting reassured me that maybe we had both made the right choice in coming.

The first few days were great with us enjoying the conditions. Graham would only ski until lunchtime to return to the hotel. Leaving Tim and me to ski on in the afternoon. Meanwhile, Gareth skied with other people on the trip. He had to admit that they were wearing him out with their constant bragging, despite him being the far younger, stronger and better skier. He was looking forward to taking over from me to ski with Tim & Graham later in the week. On Monday they had all gone into Switzerland, returning with glowing reports of excellent conditions and empty pistes.

That evening Tim asked if we could go to Switzerland like the others. The weather threatened to deteriorate later in the week, so it would be better to choose to go sooner rather than later. The run into Switzerland from the Matterhorn ridge would be too hard for Graham, especially with the Zermatt valley beyond being in shade all day, making visibility difficult for him.

We descended into Switzerland by gondola, climbing up the opposite sunny side of the valley by gondola and a train to reach the Gornergrat observatory & hotel. Zermatt has several picturesque mountain cog and wheel railways, and a ride on one would be a bonus for us all. We could ski back down in the sun on easy blue pistes and return by retracing our gondola route to return to Italy. This would avoid Graham skiing in the afternoon shadows in the Swiss valley.

I discussed our choice quietly with Graham, who loved the idea, having never been to the Zermatt side before. Tim was beside himself with excitement and told everyone, bringing him some unwarranted teasing from other 'friends' in the group.

I got Tim up early and caught the chairlift up to meet the higher gondola, bringing us onto the ridge between the two countries. A short ski down and we caught our first gondola down into Zermatt. All our links worked superbly, with us needing a 10-minute wait for the mountain train up to Gornergrat. Once at the station you get the archetypical view back at the bent pyramid shape of the Matterhorn that was now catching the morning sunshine.

So I could chalk up another great choice selection for me. After taking loads of photographs in the perfect sunshine, we brought hot chocolate drinks at the outside bar. We didn't stay too long, allowing us to ski down to get as low as we could whilst still in sunshine. We made our target Swiss gondola station as it was being swallowed up by the Matterhorn's shadow, much to Graham's relief.

We then rode the gondola down into the valley. A short walk across the station allowed us to catch the next gondola up to the glacier. This last leg to the glacier will be the longest, and the views all around are stunning. The Matterhorn Glacier Paradise is the highest point of both resorts at 3883m (12740 ft). From there we drop 400m in height down a steep red link piste through a saddle on the mountain ridge to return into Italy.

Exiting the gondola, we walked through a tunnel in the mountain peak for about 200m to the restaurant there. It was busy, and they were refusing entry to anyone who hadn't reserved a table. As I stepped out onto the piste, I discovered why. Despite low winds and great conditions lower down, there was a force 10 gale carrying shards of ice, sandblasting you. We would have to brave this for about 500m of link piste until the piste dropped below a mountain ridge to shelter skiers. Choosing the route today a poor decision.

I explained to Tim and Graham what they would have to do and we will have to suffer it. Once down, we would be back in Italy with other mountain restaurants available to us. I knew they were capable and safe to ski it. I ensured Tim knew he would have to use a wide `V' shaped snowplough down the narrow link piste, which would to be icy. With our Snoods or scarves pulled up to cover our chins and noses, and our goggles pulled down, we stepped out into the bracing icy wind.

It was a battle to get our skis on whilst fighting the wind on hard-packed ice, not being able to get ski poles stuck in, so I had to help Graham and Tim. We edged forwards trying to make progress, leaning against the wind. I skated along on my ski's keeping ahead of them, acting as a target for Graham to follow.

The narrow link had a drop of thousands of meters down on the right-hand side. I hopped between the icy piste and fluffy edge to keep my speed down. There was only one skier ahead of us, a small black-clad skier, who judging from their skiing was beyond their capabilities.

Luckily I chose to snowplough in the fluffy snow behind her. Enjoying ogling her pert bottom in her tight black ski pants, as Tim and Graham caught me up. She was very petite, at 5 foot tall, with a long blond French braid hanging from the back of her helmet. Her helmet, jacket and pants matched her boots and skis, black with white beading. She could have been a life-size version of a ski Barbie doll. I cynically thought 'more money than sense,' as she struggled in the conditions. We were now dropping out of the wind with a flat area of piste 500m down from us.

Leaning backwards, the black-clad skier panicked on the steep link. This is a typical beginner's mistake, 'sitting on the toilet' rather than bending her knees. This resulted in her losing control and balance. She fell back to sit sharply down onto the piste, with her skis pointing downhill. Her shoulders were bobbing up and down, shaking her further downhill and closer to the steep drop off to the one side.

This was a simple choice to make, and I am always willing to save a damsel in distress. I checked behind to jog out skiing passed and turned uphill into a reversed 'V', snow plough to catch her. As her ski tips reached me, I rotated them 90 degrees to the slope to bring her to a halt. Tim and Graham had stopped behind her, allowing any skiers behind to ski passed to one side.

I asked Tim & Graham to ski down to the flat area further down and wait for me. I got a series of helmet nods and they passed to drop further down. I looked back at my little ski Barbie, black-clad, trapped, fallen skier. Like us, her snood was covering her face, and she had the latest gold reflective goggles down over her eyes. Her shoulders were still bobbing up, she was sobbing. I made a calming motion with my arms.

"Calme s'il vous plaît." Hoping she understood French.

"Calmare per favour." In case she understood Italian.

"Ok, thankz," replied a quiet voice that I could barely hear over the noise of the wind.

She pulled her snood down and propped her goggles up. Exposing the prettiest face I have ever seen, better than any button nosed Disney princess in any film. But with tears streaming down her red face, she was still blubbering.

"Ok? Calm down, you are safe, I have you. Are you hurt?"

"No, no ok"

"Where are your friends?"

She pointed down to the flat area, where there were quite a few groups of skiers, including Tim and Graham, and she answered quietly, "My Brozer."

Ok, so maybe Polish (as the poles like to ski Italy, but then so do many other Eastern European countries).

She blubbered out a few more sobs, still looking terrified.

"It's okay, I am an instructor," I lied. I hoped that my red jacket and ski pants, similar to Swiss instructors, may give her some confidence.

"If you're not hurt, can you stand?" She nodded okay. Looking up, I could now see quite a few groups, braving the conditions, making their way out onto the glacier above.

I held my hands out to hold hers, leaned back to pull her up to stand. She popped up as she weighed almost nothing.

"Ok, well done, can you rotate your skis to make a snowplough again?" She nodded, but still looking terrified.

I let go of her hands and slid backwards to give her room and motioned with my hands, how I wanted her to rotate her skis. With a nod, she copied my instructions until she was holding a wide 'V' snowplough above me.

I looked into her now drying eyes and asked if she was okay. She looked more confident and nodded.

"Okay, I will stay in front, we will slowly ski down, lean forward," as I leant forwards to show her.

She shook her head, still not confident. So I started a slow slide backwards, keeping one eye on her and one on people descending way above us. Even though the link was still steep, she kept a slow controlled speed. Anytime I saw her lean backwards, I would shout a warning to encourage her to correct it. Not wanting a repeat of her falling.

As the link leveled and widened to join the flat area, I stepped aside to ski alongside, encouraging her. Once on the flat wide area, with her heading towards a single waiting skier, I skied on to join Graham and Tim again.

As we were about to set off once more, I looked around to check that ski Barbie was safe. But her brother had already left her and was skiing off, out of control of himself. She stood there terrified once more, watching him disappeared around the corner. Giving me another set of choices to make.

Graham was getting cold, so I explained the next far easier and wider stage of the route to him. Luckily there was a yellow jacketed skier near a piste signpost that I used as a marker for him. They both set off to the next junction to bear left into Italy.

I chose to once again to ski over to my damsel in distress and joined the now terrified black-clad skier, as she looked pleading at me with her eyes.

"It's ok I can ski with you, can you ski parallel?" I asked, placing my skis parallel to each other, hoping she understood. Although she still looked unsure.

"You know Parallel, like chips?" I showed the shape made by skis, parallel to each other. We often use the terms Pizza & chips when teaching to show the shape we need the skis to be in.

She laughed, "Yez, like Chipz."

So I set off, exaggerated my turns to emphasise how she should copy me. She laughed and then followed. She could parallel ski, but she was still nervous. She was very much a beginner and should not have been at this height or skiing this class of piste. By the third turn, she was copying me and more confident. I ensured she put in lots of turns to then finally scoot in a straight line to join Tim and Graham waiting at the signpost.

And that reader is where you joined me, with Ski Barbie Katrine skiing towards me for a hug and a kiss. As you can see, it took me several selections of various choices, good and bad, to reach this point. But from here on in, was I able to select the right choices and meet Katrine again?

~~~ *** ~~~

I indicated to Tim to set off and checked Graham was ready, then off we skied back into Italy. Leaving Katrine behind, having forgotten to even try to arrange to meet her later. We found a great restaurant for a long lunch, then we dropped Graham off back at the hotel at about 2 pm. Tim elected to stay with Graham at the hotel as he was also tired. I chose to take advantage of the freedom and shot off to hunt out some more testing, steeper pistes.

As the afternoon wore on, I kept high up the resort, to drop lower as the higher lifts close. I skied down to check one chair lift, but it had already closed with. A nearby restaurant was now an après-ski bar, and I could hear some stomping club beats coming from it. So I avoided the choice of going lower down and diverted to the restaurants outside terrace après-ski bar.

I set my skis and poles in an empty place in the snow and walked through the gateway onto the external terrace bar. A complete range of age groups littered the busy terrace area, the majority dancing and drinking. I made my way to the bar to get a beer and wandered around, enjoying the atmosphere.

A shout rang out above the noise, "Daaaf." But I ignored it. "Daaaf." The shout was louder and bursting out of the crowd came Katrine. Now helmetless, with her braided hair bobbing, looking even more stunning than before. Her arms wrapped around my neck and she gave me a big hug and kissed me on the cheek. Wow, my selection of choice options today was on fire, I was definitely winning with my selections.

"Daaaf, I am happy you iz ear. Cum, cum," she grabbed my arm and led me through the crowd to a group of five girls flanked by some quite angry looking men. One was standing back, looking rather sheepish. Judging from the colours of his ski jacket and pants, he was the brother who left Katrine on the piste.