03/03: Geez, ya'd think it was a big deal or somethin'
Category: Skiing/Boarding
Posted by: ajmilne
So yes, I spent this last weekend at Tremblant. Got to looking at the forecast for the weekend here and the forecast there, and then got to thinking it was the better option. And what with this being a really, really thin season, snowfall-wise, I also got to thinking it might not be wise to wait ‘til the March holidays to do this, which had been the plan, previously.
And man, but the Olympics were all over the damned place, there. Friday night in Le Diable (it’s this brewpub I sometimes frequent), it’s the game against Slovakia, and people yelling. Then it’s some speed skaters, taking a gold, more yelling…
Thought for the moment: I’m not sure ever seen people yell about speed skating before. Not that that’s a bad thing or nothin’…
Saturday night is Jasey Jay Anderson night. That’s Tremblant’s favourite son (can you still call a veteran in his thirties now, a favourite ‘son’, exactly?) taking his gold in the parallel giant slalom. Add a few decibels to the music, to the screaming. It’s written on the whiteboard of the tapas place I sat in a while that eve: ‘Jasey Jay got the gold’…
Me, I saw only his first heat—I only heard his winner. It’s on the agenda to see it, sure—there’s a (rare) sport I’ll absolutely watch, at least. And with the crazy visibility on the course, what I did see was absolutely something to see—big boarders on big alpine boards, screaming out of the fog…
(Makes note to self again to try out an alpine board sometime…)
… but yeah, I’ve only heard it so far. Funny how after a whole day on Tremblant, some of it pushing some more aerial work, some of shepherding a five year old, you do get a bit worn out… I heard Anderson win in the next room, the rest of la famille watching it, while I lay there in the dark working on getting some sleep, letting some stressed joints and muscles settle down. And reflected that the guy out there beating the world cup champion wasn’t that much younger than I am. Impressive.
Sunday night we’d had this plan to eat in the village before coming back. But it wasn’t to be. The men’s hockey team was playing the US for the gold, and damn, but getting a seat anywhere where there was also a TV—which turned out to be most of the places we might have eaten—just wasn’t on…
I was in such an establishment for the first goal, trying to get such a table. The goal scared the hell outta me and the hostess I was talking to, since we weren’t looking, and then everyone yelled all at once…
Anyway, we gave up on the table, headed home, heard on the radio enroute that Canada had won. And getting out of the car at home, you could hear cars several blocks away honking, people yelling…
Presuming it was over the hockey game. Maybe the whole scene. I guess either way would make sense. Fourteen golds in the winter games is a record, sure. And people do go a bit crazy over hockey around here…
They’re talking about this on the radio now about this being some kinda defining moment. I guess I’m okay with that—I guess it was. I don’t really watch hockey, but at least find myself vaguely pleased the speed skaters got some attention, a little more distinctly pleased Jasey Jay and Ms. Maelle Ricker did…
What can I say. I’m not a team player. Sez so right on most of my performance assessments…
In less pleasing news, the season’s ending. There’s grass between the moguls on some of the runs at Tremblant. I wish I could report better… And I get to thinking about the fact the pundits are saying Harper and his fellow assholes are counting on the post-Olympic glow to distract people from the fact that yes, they just prorogued parliament again rather than face the music on some bad shit outta Afghanistan… And I find myself more ‘n slightly pissed off about that, on balance…
So, on a more sobering note, people, let’s get back to work, now. The climate’s headed for the shitter, and we’ve got the fucking dregs of a prairie bible study group who probably figure praying over shit counts as doing something about it running the fucking parliament. And I don’t want my kids asking me in puzzlement, when they’re 15, whether they really vaguely remember something white and cold we used to call snow.
(/Sadly packs away board…)
And man, but the Olympics were all over the damned place, there. Friday night in Le Diable (it’s this brewpub I sometimes frequent), it’s the game against Slovakia, and people yelling. Then it’s some speed skaters, taking a gold, more yelling…
Thought for the moment: I’m not sure ever seen people yell about speed skating before. Not that that’s a bad thing or nothin’…
Saturday night is Jasey Jay Anderson night. That’s Tremblant’s favourite son (can you still call a veteran in his thirties now, a favourite ‘son’, exactly?) taking his gold in the parallel giant slalom. Add a few decibels to the music, to the screaming. It’s written on the whiteboard of the tapas place I sat in a while that eve: ‘Jasey Jay got the gold’…
Me, I saw only his first heat—I only heard his winner. It’s on the agenda to see it, sure—there’s a (rare) sport I’ll absolutely watch, at least. And with the crazy visibility on the course, what I did see was absolutely something to see—big boarders on big alpine boards, screaming out of the fog…
(Makes note to self again to try out an alpine board sometime…)
… but yeah, I’ve only heard it so far. Funny how after a whole day on Tremblant, some of it pushing some more aerial work, some of shepherding a five year old, you do get a bit worn out… I heard Anderson win in the next room, the rest of la famille watching it, while I lay there in the dark working on getting some sleep, letting some stressed joints and muscles settle down. And reflected that the guy out there beating the world cup champion wasn’t that much younger than I am. Impressive.
Sunday night we’d had this plan to eat in the village before coming back. But it wasn’t to be. The men’s hockey team was playing the US for the gold, and damn, but getting a seat anywhere where there was also a TV—which turned out to be most of the places we might have eaten—just wasn’t on…
I was in such an establishment for the first goal, trying to get such a table. The goal scared the hell outta me and the hostess I was talking to, since we weren’t looking, and then everyone yelled all at once…
Anyway, we gave up on the table, headed home, heard on the radio enroute that Canada had won. And getting out of the car at home, you could hear cars several blocks away honking, people yelling…
Presuming it was over the hockey game. Maybe the whole scene. I guess either way would make sense. Fourteen golds in the winter games is a record, sure. And people do go a bit crazy over hockey around here…
They’re talking about this on the radio now about this being some kinda defining moment. I guess I’m okay with that—I guess it was. I don’t really watch hockey, but at least find myself vaguely pleased the speed skaters got some attention, a little more distinctly pleased Jasey Jay and Ms. Maelle Ricker did…
What can I say. I’m not a team player. Sez so right on most of my performance assessments…
In less pleasing news, the season’s ending. There’s grass between the moguls on some of the runs at Tremblant. I wish I could report better… And I get to thinking about the fact the pundits are saying Harper and his fellow assholes are counting on the post-Olympic glow to distract people from the fact that yes, they just prorogued parliament again rather than face the music on some bad shit outta Afghanistan… And I find myself more ‘n slightly pissed off about that, on balance…
So, on a more sobering note, people, let’s get back to work, now. The climate’s headed for the shitter, and we’ve got the fucking dregs of a prairie bible study group who probably figure praying over shit counts as doing something about it running the fucking parliament. And I don’t want my kids asking me in puzzlement, when they’re 15, whether they really vaguely remember something white and cold we used to call snow.
(/Sadly packs away board…)
