I have come to terms with the facts before me:
- I ride a bike but I am not a cyclist.
- I often wear running shoes but I do not run.
- I go to yoga but I am a forever-beginner who still has no idea of the names of those asanas.
- And most importantly, on this trip to Whistler…
- I don skis, but I am a crappy skier.
Especially when Whistler/Blackcomb is setting all sorts of crazy snowfall records.
Let’s be perfectly clear. Gobs of snow is great for people who know what they’re doing. The grins on those kind of boarders and skiers is rather infectious.
But for someone like me who has quivering thighs after two turns in snow that is deeper than quicksand and feels about as forgiving…well, it’s just a titch less fun.
It was at some point between the howling winds and the last time I sunk into a deep snowy hole, floundering and flailing like a half-dead halibut on a dock, that I decided…get me off this mountain alive and I will be forever selfless and only do good.
No wait, that’s not the bargain I made. I think it went more like this;
Get me off of this mountain and we’ll go to the Bearfoot Bistro for the 5-course tasting menu.
If nothing else, I am a practical woman.
Yes indeed. And while I was sliding back the delicate Vancouver Island oysters in a red wine mignonette and whilst savouring the chunks of smoked and roasted pork belly on my wild mushroom toast with pea shoots…
…and when Kevin tucked in to his lobster risotto, just before his lamb-like-chocolate, well, between my smiling sips of Cava and that perfect Pinot Noir, I knew that I had made a good, and very wise, bargain.
$36.00 for a five-course extravaganza is a small price to pay to make it off the mountain alive.