– harking from the winter of 2015 –
Skiing…well, walking with boards stuck to our feet.
We three had never skied before though two of us snow board. But when a local friend generously offered to take us with her family, we were all ready to give it a try. Unfortunately, the mountain actually classified as more of a speed bump – not that it mattered much because we were terrible.
Northern China does really have good skiing but this wasn’t it. It was next to a kids theme park which should have tipped us off.
We arrived in the “lodge” and after much confusion (“no…we don’t want a ticket to the kids park”) paid our 40 RMB ($7). Before going out, we decided to take a quick trip to the restroom which made Renee gag: apparently the wetness on the floor wasn’t primarily from melting snow. That business taken care of, we tromped over to the giant-footed people section (women’s 8 or larger) and got our boots with the men. I’m pretty sure that the boots were from the 70’s and were hewn from a solid block of plastic. They were also soaking wet inside. But no problem, the bored lodge employees gestured at a little box on the counter: little plastic foot baggies for 1 RMB, creating a thin barrier between my feet and frostbite – not that they stopped my feet from freezing.
With our Goodwill skis in hand and absolutely no instruction, we trudged over toward the hill. On the way, a man at a table handed us some old, bent ski poles. An ominous sign. Sadly, it appeared that no one else had ever skied either except for the few employees who stopped to help the injured and dying (don’t worry, no one was actually dead that I could tell. They were definitely still twitching. A person would have to work pretty hard to die on a bunny hill and no one there looked that dedicated).
Meanwhile, the rest of us slowly slid forward along the trail like a crowd of turtles. You see, there was a 40 yard lane that everyone had to go down in order to actually reach the bunny hill. It was supposed to be flat but I think they angled it slightly upward to discourage the weak ones. There were a smattering of people sliding, pushing, …slowly edging forward on their battered skis. Determined faces, pushing hard with their poles and trying not to cross their skis. It was the surge of hopeful, desperate humanity, weak but with an unconquerable spirit! Frankly, it was embarrassing and after a short struggle we all decided to walk past them in our moon boots and put our skis on nearer to the hill.
Unfortunately, as the video will reveal, we weren’t much better on the flat – but oh, did we fly down the bunny speed bump once we’d reached the summit! We only did it once before moving to obstacle #2: the ant hill. Again, one time and we were professional, ahem, though one of us may have fallen because she tried to steer.
Finally, it was time for the Big One. We had to leave one of our friends behind because, tragically, he kept leaning back while going down the first bunny hill. The ski lift up to the big hill was made of poles that hung down from a cable. The idea was to grab ahold and hang on for as long as possible – ideally, until the top of the hill. But some weren’t so lucky. There was a small crowd of people waiting to get on. Even while strapped to skis, these undaunted Chinese folk vied to be first in line – pushing, stepping on each other’s skis, stepping on their own skis. A few even lit up cigarettes. This was amateur skiing and it smelled of tobacco, sweat, and garlic.
As I looked up the line, I could see that several people had fallen off the lift and were waiting along the trail for an empty pole. Some waited patiently, having accepted their fate, while the others struggled on the ground in a vain attempt to untangle their skis. The poor, disillusioned workers hardly even laughed at them anymore. Not wanting to add our names to the list of the fallen, we three took a firm grip onto our poles as they slowly drug us up the mountain. I made the mistake of trying to video it and slipped, nearly losing my hold as I dropped. It was close. Luckily, I hung on and was able to pull myself back upright, albeit indecorously.
Once at the top, we toddled toward the edge, peering over at the landscape below. I looked over at Sierra who was saying something like, “I’m trying to remember how it looked in the Olympics.” She tucked her poles under her arms so tightly that they stood up vertically like twin antennas. A moment later, she was off! Success. Renee and I stood for a bit, watching people (mostly young men) go down (by which I mean both “ski down successfully” and “fall down.”) One poor lady slide into the fence on the left side while an equally unfortunate boy punctured a hole in the fence with his ski on the right side. With images of mangled bodies in our minds, we launched ourselves over the cliff! Skiing down, down, down the hill until coming to gentle stop before the line for the lift. We looked back up the hill triumphantly: it was at least a 5% angle.
We did it two more times just for good measure. On the last try, we even began to turn slightly and carve just a tad at the bottom. But by then, we were cold and hungry. So we returned to the lodge for our well earned snacks. Had we stayed on the hill longer, there’s no telling how good we might’ve become.
Unfortunately, we happened to sit just across the aisle from a creepy man (probably the ski pole guy) so that most of our snack time was spent trying to avoid returning his stare – which he intently fixed on us while blowing a cloud of smoke into our aisle. But eventually, once his cigarette was nearing its end, he got up and meandered off.
We waited around the lodge until 2:00 which was when we were supposed to leave. But at 2:00 a few of our group were just putting on their skis. So we waited around until after 3:00. In the meantime, Mr. Creeper came back for another smoke break, waved at us with both hands, and took a seat in the area behind us – presumably to watch us. We were separated by a window. Sierra, not sure what the wave was, mimicked it by lifting up her elbows to 90 degree angles and waving her hands.
“Sierra,” I whispered, “he can see you mocking him.” Renee, ever quick to act, looked over at Sierra and hurriedly commanded, “Quick, act like you’re lifting weights!” Slowly, Sierra raised and lowered each arm as if pressing dumbbells. The man walked back into the main room and stared at her with an amused expression before walking off again. Or maybe he was looking at us two, who had doubled over laughing. Either way, danger avoided.
Sometime before 4:00, we piled back into the car for the long ride back after a day of successfully not falling, which had been our main goal all along.
Extra bonus video!