Skiing

Winter in Melbourne is usually mild. It drizzles sometimes, and it can be windy, but most of the time it is sunny. So there is no snow or ice, no blizzards or avalanches, because the temperature is always above zero.

Therefore, when a group of friends invited me to go skiing, I was a bit surprised. Coming from Hong Kong in late June when it was still hot and sticky, the very idea of snow and skiing was simply overwhelming. I said ‘yes’ to my friends and I looked forward to the very first skiing experience in my life.

It was a Saturday morning. We set out at around nine o’clock, our destination: Lake Mountain, which is approximately 120km from Melbourne. I was new to this group, so we introduced ourselves to one another, and we shared some of our personal experiences. We then drove along the highways to the distant mountainous areas.



The road conditions were good and the weather was sunny and bright. The landscape outside the car windows was nice and calming, particularly on this quiet morning. It was like a silent motion picture of houses, trees, gardens and distant mountains. Gradually, the mountains loomed nearer, changing from a peaceful suburban scene to untamed Nature. The wind whipped through the majestic pine trees, making them wave their graceful branches as they whispered unknown secrets to each other. The tops of the trees reached towards the heavens, dark green against the azure sky. It was a bold and beautiful contrast, as was the pure snow covering fresh green. Even in the safety of the car, I could imagine the biting cold as I gazed out, my breath fogging up the glass pane.


We stopped at Marysville, where we took a deep breath of the cool air, stamping our feet in an effort to warm ourselves up. We bought our skiing gear here. I put on a pair of sunglasses to block out the blinding reflections of light in the white snow. With the sunglasses, I felt cool, in a sense both physical and vain. We drove up the hill, and the closer we were to the skiing resort, the more wintery it became. The snow, it seemed, blanketed the world. At a point, we had to park our car and take a resort shuttle to get to the actual skiing site.


The skiing resort was a site of joy and excitement, where people enjoyed themselves in the snowy white world either with their families, friends or on their own. Kids were running around, cheeks rosy and eyes glowing. Everywhere was the sound of laughter or screams of exhilaration. I went to hire my skiing gear (skis, poles and boots), and joined my friends. We walked deeper and higher into the snow forest, snow crunching loudly under our feet as we strove not to sink into it.


The top of the mountain was covered with snow, deceivingly soft and comfortable looking, with trees dotting the vast area. I was in a completely different world, a world unlike any other. I first skied very cautiously, but I started gaining more confidence as I got used to the unique experience.


My friends and I moved along a skiing path and after about half an hour, we came to an area where there was a slope for practicing skiing. We stopped and had lots of fun there, climbing up and skiing down repeatedly like excited children. The first time I went down, I simply could not control myself. For a couple of seconds, I experienced the feeling of being free, as if nothing could stop me, then I went flying and the next thing I knew I was on my back, limbs in the air struggling helplessly like a overturned bug. I was surprised that I was still conscious.

The fun part of skiing was not how well I could ski, but how I lost control, fell, and got back on my feet again. I reckon life is like that too. The excitement of life is not how good I am or how much I have achieved, but how I could manage to overcome difficulties and how I could learn from my weaknesses and mistakes. In the vast white snowy world, I could feel how vulnerable and insignificant I was. However, at the same time, I could also have my share of joy, excitement and thrill among the people who were there indulging themselves on a clear and bright Saturday afternoon.


Looking around me, I saw a cute snowman, probably a memoir of someone before me, just as happy and excited as I was. I walked towards it, taking my hat, sunglasses and scarf off. I put them on it. This encounter with the snowman reminded me of my childhood where, back in my hometown, we had long and cold snowy winters in the northeast of China. We had an abundance of ice and snow. We would run around and have snowball fights. We would also skate and play games only possible in winter, such as whipping a top on ice to keep it swinging. Life was fun in those days as we always seemed to be carefree.

Skiing on Lake Mountain was like a dream. My childhood winter memories kept flashing back. The only difference was that, back in those days, I took the joy and happiness for granted, but now I know how hard it can be to enjoy the simple happiness of accepting life as it is, loving the world and its beautiful nature, and especially on that day, skiing.


Note: Courtesy of Mary for reading, editing and polishing this blog entry. The ‘untamed Nature’ description became much more alive after her seemingly effortless touches.