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MONDAY, FEBRUARY 24, 2014
OPINION
DAILY TOWNSMAN / DAILY BULLETIN
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Waxing eloquent on the subject of skis “Those who know everything are a great nuisance to us who think we already do.” Jonathan Dough A friend of mine wrote recently to ask if I might be enjoying the Olympics and added, “I think the North Americans need to learn how to wax their cross country skis. Pretty pathetic.” “Pretty pathetic” neatly describes my own antics at waxing over the millennia because, frankly, nobody had the patience to teach me to do it properly and, mostly, because I never bothered to find out. Waxing my downhill skis was an utter anathema to me; they went fast enough, thank you, although there were a couple of occasions late in the spring — read, early summer — when a dab of silver wax didn’t go amiss. In fact my friend Paul and I were nearly trapped overnight up on those trails near the Kimberley ski hill because, having climbed to the height of the runs, we found that our skis refused to move. Each time we scraped them clean of snow that looked like and acted like mashed potatoes and put them down they were loaded again. It took a lot of thought, a huge amount of very bad language, and an intensive search through our two back-packs until we discovered an ancient candle, half burned
through. Rubbed on thoroughly, that candle wax did the job and we skied to safety at last. The 20-year old chocolate bar — with dog hair attached — went down remarkably well. I am sure that it was with Paul again, plus another maniac, when we had climbed up into the Nine Basins of the Wildhorse one winter and almost came unstuck. In fact, we stuck. I’ve been reminded that it was due to my blundering off in the wrong direction that caused us to be so late and Peter so, when the temperature thus the snow became Warland and cold enough, our skis wouldn’t run. There we were with the bottom fallen out of the thermometer, night falling far too rapidly, and our skis refusing to budge. We were standing on precipitous slopes, attempting to look elegant, and we weren’t moving; we were forced to walk inelegantly downhill. All three of us waxed eloquent on that occasion, I can assure you. Later on, after we had survived that episode plus, whilst being towed behind the snowmobile, my falling asleep on my skis, some loquacious person endeavoured to explain the science of skiing on too cold snow but, what with the warm room, the big meal and my general fatigue, I lost interest. Apparently, we should have had a special wax with us.
LETTERS TO THE EDITOR
However, we had to “make do” when the snowmobile wouldn’t make progress up into the Paradise Mine that spring. As if it were a noisy mule, it just refused to move. Apparently, the runners at the front wouldn’t run and so, after a “Zorba the Greek” dance, we dug out some silver ski wax and applied that. Improvisation was the word that bright day until the snowsled, sputtering indignantly, ended up way down a precipitous bank in the creek. An avid ski friend from Norway once tried to interest me in the ideas of his ancestors the Sami — those Lapp people who herd reindeer in the north. This shared interest occurred when Sami, as we called him, snapped a wooden ski in two on the mountain near Pine Pass, north of Prince George and had to make his way down in a series of long traverses with one foot on the remaining unbroken ski and the other limb on the broken bit. Sami pondered between sensational falls what his ancestors, who rushed about on skis of differing lengths might have used as a wax. We suggested reindeer poop but Sami wasn’t convinced. He claimed that he’s once used door hinges as bindings on his cross-country skis but, in that school-learned English modified by a few years in Quebec logging camps, it was hard to decide if he might be kidding. Clearly then, I should be taking some genuine lessons in waxing skis, but not just yet; it might spoil the fun.
Letters to the Editor should be a maximum of 400 words in length. We reserve the right to edit, condense or reject any contribution. All letters must include the name and daytime phone number of the writer for verification purposes. The phone number will not be printed. Anonymous letters will not be published. Only one letter per month from any particular letter writer will be published. Email letters to editor@dailytownsman.com. Mail to The Daily Townsman, 822 Cranbrook St. N., Cranbrook, B.C. V1C 3R9. In Kimberley, email editor@dailybulletin.ca. Mail to The Daily Bulletin, 335 Spokane Street, Kimberley, BC V1A 1Y9.