I can’t remember the last time I was this impatient for ski season to start. It’s not that I haven’t been just as eager to get back on the slopes, but for the greater part of my life I lived in a snow-free country and lacked the financial wherewithal to spend time in the nearest resorts in continental Europe. In fifteen years, my days skiing averaged out at less than two a season.
Then I moved to Canada and celebrated the fact that I was now just a two-hour drive from the best ski resort in the world by blowing out my left knee so badly that I couldn’t ski at all for the better part of two seasons. In 06/07, I crept back onto the local slopes with the aid of two enormous heat-treated carbon steel braces and realised that I was going to have to relearn my turns pretty much from scratch. In 07/08, I finally made it up to Whistler and began to regain my confidence on snow. And in 08/09, I skied 19 days and finally started breaking significant new ground.
It’s the 08/09 season that has made me so crazy to get back on the slopes this year. I don’t know how many seasons my knees have left in them, but I’ve already wasted far too much time. From here on in, I want to make the most of every moment.