Applauding The Accompanist

We glorify our winners. Raise them up on the dais, and quite rightly hang golden medals around their necks. Who hasn’t heard of Michael Jordan, Michael Phelps, Novak Djokovic, Ash Barty, Chris Hemsworth, Nicole Kidman? Who hasn’t had goosebumps, and been totally transformed by an incredible performance on violin, or any other instrument, yet barely acknowledged the accompanist was there?

Gold medallists also give a lot back. My daughter is wearing Kate Campbell’s gold medal from the London Olympics at a charity event.

I know I’m certainly guilty as charged.

A true accompanist is an interesting creature. While they might also be a performer, and capable of truly incredible feats in their own right, that’s not what they’re there for. Rather, a true accompanist serves to bring out the best in the performer, and might even compensate for their weaknesses and mistakes while claiming none of the glory. My violin teacher used to do this when we performed in concerts, and my mother is a piano accompanist who has accompanied singers and musicians in later life out of nothing more than kindness. Never asked a penny. Meanwhile, as she played the piano, she might teach them the correct German pronunciation for the German songs, or how to read music, which had nothing to do with playing the piano, but also helped to bring out their best. It is also what our son does when he is on sound.

What’s brought all this to mind? While working towards my son’s 18th Birthday photo book and slide show, I was looking through our ski photos from 2013 and there I was achieving my mission impossible. Instead of climbing Mt Everest and going up the mountain which wasn’t a possibility with my muscle weakness issues, I decided to go down the mountain instead.

As you can see, I made it down the mountain (if you can call Perisher a mountain, but I’ll conveniently overlook that I wasn’t skiing down the Swiss Alps and rest on my laurels. Perisher was steep and terrifying enough for me!!) However, what you might not notice in that photo on first inspection, is there’s a blue man further up the hill. He is no coincidence. Rather, that’s Tom, my Adaptive Ski Instructor, who I accessed via the Disabled Winter Sports’ Association. He’s not wearing any gold medals, or receiving any acknowledgement of his selfless capacity to get behind me, and extend my capacity. Enable me not only to get to the bottom, but to even make a start. I remember getting off the chairlift and standing at the top and looking down, something you should never do. OMG!!! It was terror on steroids, particularly as the bit at the start was very steep. Again, it wasn’t the Swiss Alps, but compared to the very gentle slope on the magic carpet, it was vertical. So what did Tom do? He held my hands or maybe it was my poles but he went backwards down this scary bit so I could go forwards. Obviously, that wasn’t a big deal for him, but it meant the world to me. It enabled me to get started, and feel so supported and encouraged and have a go despite my overwhelming fear, and my physical disability. I am incredibly grateful, and hope in turn that I might be able to give someone else what he gave me in someway. What my violin teacher also gave me. Someone who enhances your light, and is overjoyed to stand in your shadow as you strut forward, and never tries to cut you down to make themselves look good. After all, it’s all about you, not about them. Although you might be paying for their services, the money spent bears no correlation to who they’ve enabled you to become.

Violin Concert 2015.

Obviously, being an accompanist is a rather under-rated role. It’s a rather subtle unappreciated form of leadership, which goes on behind the scenes to build other people up on the quiet. However, while we’re drawn like magnets to the stars, but a true star will always defer to the source of their light.

Have you ever been an accompanist for someone else is some way? Or, perhaps you’ve accompanied someone else? What are your thoughts? Is there something you’d like to add?

Best wishes,

Rowena

J- Jindabyne, NSW…A-Z Challenge.

Welcome to Day 10 of the Blogging from A to Z April Challenge 2020. Today we’re heading South from my grandparents’ place in Ipswich, Queensland to Jindabyne, which is the gateway to the Australia’s Snowy Mountains and ski fields, which have somehow become known as “The Australian Alps”. Please let me assure you, that these are not “Alps” in the real sense of the word, and are more like rounded hills than these soaring mountain peaks you see in other countries. However, you can still built snow people, have a snowball fight, ski and snowboard if you must.

While Ipswich was about the people, Jindabyne was about the experience, and for us that was skiing. We’ve made this trip a few times staying at Jindabyne and using that as a base to go skiing at Perisher.

Map showing the location of Jindabyne in relation to Mount Kosiuszko.

Jindabyne has come along in leaps and bounds, and has become so much more than cheaper place to crash for the night after squeezing out every precious moment on the snow. There’s a bevy of fantastic restaurants. So, you can eat well after an energetic day out on the slopes. In particular, we discovered Con and Donna’s fantastic Mexican restaurant,  Cocina Mexican Grill & Cantina, located in the town centre.

As much as I love great food, as I writer, I also love a story and I had a fantastic chat with Donna who drew me into their web. I might get some of these details wrong, but that’s the beauty of conversations as they pass through the years and become stories. Forty years before they opened in 2012, Con’s parents arrived in Jindabyne from Greece and like so many migrants during the 1960s, his father ended up working on the Snowy Hydro Scheme. Also, like many within the Greek community, he opened a milk bar, and restaurants working very long hours and carving out a future for their family in their adopted land. Over the years, the restaurant has had many transformations. However, when Donna and Con stripped it all back to start over, they found the original milk bar counter buried underneath and revived it. You’ve got to love a bit of nostalgia. They’ve also added a lot of personal touches like the pressed tin ceiling and suspended lights.

I clearly remember taking a number of photos inside the restaurant, as I was quite fascinated by the decor. Goodness knows where they went, and I’m convinced my dastardly computer has gobbled them up. It’s been doing a lot of that lately. I’ve been trying to dig up photos for this series, and so many of my photos have gone missing. It’s been incredibly frustrating. I have this one particular photo I want to use, and I can see it as clear as daylight in my head, but where it’s run off to is anyone’s guess. Indeed, I’ll have to start running missing photos ads, except you need a photo to run the ad. You can’t just leave an empty space. So, as you can see, I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. So, I simply present my apologies and this hope you like this photo of a Jindabyne local chewing on a carrot stick.

We were feeding kangaroos carrots for breakfast.

Thought you might also enjoy this photo… Crows At Sunrise. Just be thankful you can’t hear the din!!

However, while these nature shots are wonderful, this is why we were there:

????????????????????????????????????

However, before I head off, I just wanted to let you know that Jindabyne and the Snowy Mountains aren’t just a Winter destination. Indeed, I’ve also been down there a few times in Summer with my parents when we went on the Lakes Walk from Charlotte’s Pass through to Blue Lake, a staggering distance of  19 kms. Aside from constantly pleading with my parents: “Are we there yet?”, I remember seeing some very pretty alpine flowers. More importantly, I also saw snow for the very first time. Indeed, we tobogganed down some snow on very stylish garbage bags  near the top of Mt Kosciusko . It was so much fun.

Here I am at the summit of Australia’s tallest peak, Mt Kosciusko, which is  2,228 metres (7,310 ft) above sea level. 

Well, I hope you’ve enjoyed our trip to Jindabyne and thank you for your patience. It’s hardly what I consider a professional tour, but until my photos miraculously reappear, it’s needing to be a case of “she’ll be right mate”.

Have you ever been to Jindabyne? Or, perhaps you’ve been somewhere else starting with J? I’ve never been to Japan. There had been talk of our daughter traveling to Japan with the Central Dance Company this year, but it’s been a good thing those plans lost momentum before the coronavirus came to pass.

We hope you and yours are keeping safe.

Best wishes,

Rowena

 

 

Weekend Coffee Share – 26th August, 2019.

Welcome to Another Weekend Coffee Share. How was your week? Hope it went well.

You’re in luck this week. I had a moment of weakness in the supermarket and bought a box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates. So, you can help yourself to a golden nugget of pure scrumptious indulgence. Yum!

The last week disappeared while I was wrestling with our son over his subject choices for the last two years of school. Moreover, while preparing for that, I realized that we really need to get the house in order to help him get focused and organized. That was a rather dire realization, because our place was packed sky-high with towers of books, photo albums and homeless ephemera. After all, for him to achieve his best, this place not only needs to be a well-oiled, organized machine. It also needs to be an oasis of calm,  where our swirling vortex of out-of-control student can crash and immediately find inner peace. Of course, this process goes a lot more smoothly when the parents are exceptionally Zen (in your dreams!!)

Now, that I’ve actually thought this through further now, it’s finally hit me that I’m trying to create utopia. That a home isn’t a factory, and a family isn’t made up of exceptionally well-controlled test subjects or computer-generated characters who only do what they’ve been programmed to do. Unfortunately, families are made up of real people each with their own inner worlds and aspirations and it’s a bit much to ask anyone to put all of that on hold for two years, although a degree of self-sacrifice is to be expected.

The other thing is, that no amount of prayer or feverishly tinkering away with life, is going to protect us from fate. Good and bad things happen and just because he’s doing his HSC, we can’t give him some sort of vaccination against adversity and bad luck. Moreover, to be honest, I don’t know that I would want to either. I’d rather he developed resilience within from fighting his battles, and not succeeding in the short term because he took the easy way out. We also have our Christian faith, but I don’t believe God has promised to protect us from adversity. He’s just promised to be there with us through life’s ups and downs. However, I still have faith in the power of prayer.

That said, I still see glaring examples of the things I do for our son, rather than leaving him to do them for himself. Most of these are those relatively small things around the house, but they do add up. I did leave him to hand in some school notes, which have been in his bag for awhile, but they made it in today…yippee!! Miracles do happen!

I’m looking at working on  two main areas to help him get organized at home. Firstly, I’ve been on a cleaning rampage. Focusing on all the stacks of books teetering on just about any flat surface around the house, I’ve already dropped off a boot load of books and another pile is mounting. These books have also accumulated a lot of dust. So, moving them on is good for our health as well. Once I’ve got through the books, the photo albums are next on the agenda. As an enthusiastic amateur photographer, the photo albums are also everywhere, and I also have loads of old family photos as well. However, I’ve started scanning more of them in and then I can store the bulk of them in the roof. Have some room to move. The other area I’m working on is our time management and keeping tabs on all the appointments. We’ve missed a few things on at the school, and that’s had repercussions. So, it’s pretty important, especially next year when students get a zero for a late assessment, unless there’s a rock solid excuse and I’m talking about something akin to an alibi.

However, although I sound particularly fired up, I’ve actually been  struggling at half-mast. It’s the tail end of Winter here and virtually everybody’s fighting something off. I’ve been sleeping through most of the day and then getting a burst of energy after dinner and staying up too late and the terrible cycle repeats. However, I have a busy day tomorrow so this could be the turning point which will get me back into a good routine. Being the perpetual optimist, I live in hope.

However, it hasn’t been all responsibility during the last week. I’ve also been reading Charles Dickens’: Oliver Twist and have made it halfway. I’m really enjoying it, although poor Oliver’s trials and tribulations are rather intense and pulls at my heartstrings. He’s really happy at the moment and away from Fagan and his darstardly crew for the second time, but things have been too good for too long. I know his luck is about to turn again. If you haven’t read the book, I highly recommend it. It is fairly quick-paced and there’s a good amount of philosophical reflection throughout, which I enjoy and Dickens is famed for his well-developed characters. They really come to life.

Meanwhile, our daughter spent much of the week away snow skiing down at Perisher-Smiggins in the Australian Alps. She had a ball. Haven’t seen any photos yet.

Have you been doing any reading lately?

What about your writing? How is that going?

In terms of post through the last week,  there was:

Bye Bye Miss!

Dia-de-los-muertos-Friday-fictioneers/

Dud Photos – Thursday Doors

Dog and I Finally Go For A Walk

I also reblogged a fascinating post from The Contented Crafter which looks at the use of vivid colours versus dull neutrals: Vivid Colours

Well, time has completely run away from me again tonight and I have a swag of things on tomorrow so I’d better scoot.

This has been another contribution to the Weekend Coffee Share hosted by  Eclectic Ali. We’d love you to pop round and join us.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Bye! Bye! Miss!

“You need not be sorry for her. She was one of the kind that likes to

grow up. In the end she grew up of her own free will a day quicker than

the other girls.”

― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

/Tonight, we waved Miss off on her school ski trip. They were picked up from school in three massive coaches tonight and they’ll drive through the night to hit the slopes at Perisher Smiggins in the Australian Alps bright and early at 7.00am. By the way, if you’re used to skiing overseas, I’ll let you in on a little secret. The so-called “Australian Alps”, should really be called  “The Australian Mole Hills”. We don’t have real mountains in Australia.

Loading up the bus.

Naturally, seeing her off was a tad emotional and yanked away at my heart strings, Although she’s now 13 and in high school, as she climbed on board,  it was like watching this tiny girl get swallowed up by this massive white coach and disappear.  Not that I was about to board the bus to yank her to safety. I’m not that pathetic. I know it’s only for a few days and she’s been away from us for longer trips before. However, it’s moments like these where you not only think about all the fun adventures she’ll have, but the gaps in between certainties also open up just enough to let in the doubt. The what ifs. After all, we live in an uncertain world where anything could change at the tick of the clock. Of course, these uncertainties are always there, but our routines and busyness block them out and we forget we don’t hold the remote control. That things can happen. On the other hand, I’m equally sure she’ll arrive home tired with a beaming smile on Friday. She’ll have been away on what will be yet another trip of a lifetime.

“I think she is growing up, and so begins to dream dreams, and have

hopes and fears and fidgets, without knowing why or being able to

explain them.”

Louisa May Alcott

Another thought crossed my mind as I started working on this post, we’re in the process of waving goodbye to her childhood. Indeed, it’s clear that horse has already bolted. That said, she hasn’t grown up quite as much as the photo would suggest. She must be standing on a mound because there’s no way she’s as tall as me. I’m a good 174 cm  tall and she’s nowhere near it. Just as well I took this photo below with her Dad, which brings her nicely back down to size. Geoff is the same height as me so she hasn’t shot up quite as much after all.

 

Yet, she’s still grown up a lot since I first started blogging back in 2012. She’d only just started school the year before and truly was a little girl back then.

“All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what

we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before

we can enter another.”-

Anatole France

The kids on my daughter’s first day of school back in 2011. 

 

There are people I’ve been blogging with much of those years and have seen my kids grow up, which is a really special privilege really. After all, it’s an incredible thing to see someone grow up, looking at their photos, taking in their adventures and stories and being a part of their lives even if you’ve never met, which is one of the peculiarities of these close blogging friendships. In some instances, we do know each other better than people in the so-called real world, but we’ve never met. Never gone out for a real coffee. Nothing. It no longer seems strange to me until I try to explain it to someone who doesn’t blog.

Snowplowing on our first trip to the snow in 2012, aged 6.

Anyway, getting back to the trip, it’s going to be an experience for her. It was optional trip, and so many of her friends aren’t going, which has thrown her somewhat out of her comfort zone and she’ll be mixing with other students she doesn’t know and others where there are some tensions to boot. In effect, she’s stuck in a lift with these people for the week. While as  a teacher or parent, we can see this as a good thing and say a stranger is only a friend you haven’t met, as a teenager, is a whole different story. It can be unsettling.

Back at ski school in 2013.

However, Miss really loves skiing and is is a fairly good skier, especially compared to most of these kids who won’t have been skiing before. That should give her a bit of confidence.  I’ve also seen her face light up on the slopes. She’s had the ski bug bad before and once she hits the powder, she’ll be right. I just hope she doesn’t sustain an injury, because that could be a disaster for her dancing. She’s performing in Swan Lake with Central Dance Company in four weeks. She’s not allowed to get injured and in hindsight, perhaps I should’ve put a roll of bubble wrap into her suitcase. That would be a great look out on the slopes, but I’m sure I could’ve sold a few bubble wrap suits to some of the other parents. While we say we want our kids to get out there and experience the world, we’re all lying. We really just want them to sit in front of the TV and stay safe.

The kids with their snow kid in 2012. 

Meanwhile, we have one less person at home. For her brother, it means more chores but for me there’s one less fuss pot to feed and we could all use a few new stories. I’ve been fighting off some weird sleep virus so haven’t been much fun anyway. The week will fly by and all too soon, she’ll be back.

Well, that is except for the dogs. They don’t know anything about fun-filled ski adventures or the frolics of the sun. All they saw was the suitcase come out, and Miss is gone. Indeed, I could just imagine Lady thinking we’re hopeless parents. Don’t they even realize they’ve lost one? This is her song…

“No one to talk with
All by myself
No one to walk with
But I’m happy on the shelf
Ain’t misbehavin’
I’m savin’ my love for you…”

Meanwhile, I’ve spent a few hours tonight hunting down the photos from 2012 and getting well and truly lost down memory lane. Our son only has two more years of school and who knows how many family holidays we have left. That’s not to be negative and reflective. However, it is important to make the most of it. Find the time and money to get away. I’ve been thinking about a camping trip soon. That said, my husband and son will be going camping with the extended family up at Bathurst in a few weeks time to watch the Bathurst 500 Car Race. My daughter and I are staying home “to look after the dogs”, but she also has a dance production.

Anyway, I’m very late to get to bed and will head on now.

I’d love to hear about your skiing adventures or how you feel about your kids growing up and stretching their wings.

Best wishes,

Rowena

The Snow Job – Friday Fictioneers.

The instant Inge saw the ad, she leaped at the chance to work on the Australian ski fields. Skiing was in her blood. Yet, although her parents had met at the Nagano Olympics and ran the ski school in Grosser Arber, Inge hadn’t claimed it as her own. Rather, it took crossing that vast expanse of desert they called “the Nullarboring”, to get a sense of who she was and claim skiing as her own.

However, as the bus headed into Perisher, something was wrong. Where were the mountains? What about the snow?

All she wanted was a white Christmas.

——-

This has been another contribution for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields The photo prompt for this week was kindly provided by © Dale Rogerson.

I have crossed the Nullarbor by car, train and plane and personally, I find something inspirational in that vast expanse of seeming nothingness. It reminds me of Jesus going out into the wilderness for 40 days and 40 nights. There’s so much space, that your thoughts can just keep going and going and going without being pinned in by concrete and steel.

The Nullarbor Plain (/ˈnʌlərbɔːr/ NUL-ər-bor; Latin: nullus, “no”, and arbor, “tree”^[1]) is part of the area of flat, almost treeless, arid or semi-arid country of southern Australia, located on the Great Australian Bight coast with the Great Victoria Desert to its north. It is the world’s largest single exposure of limestone bedrock, and occupies an area of about 200,000 square kilometres (77,000 sq mi).^[2] At its widest point, it stretches about 1,100 kilometres (684 mi) from east to west across the border between South Australia and Western Australia -Wikipaedia.

BTW thought you might appreciate reading my Valentine’s Day post about the snow bear’s search for love Snowy…A Valentine’s Day Hopeful.

xx Rowena

 

 

One Word Photo Challenge:Snow

Miscellaneous Mutterings

Since I’ve been doing the Blogging A-Z April Challenge, I’ve developed some kind of additional neurosis…some kind of mutation, which has been completely overlooked by the DSM Manual, otherwise known as “the psychologists’ Bible”.

M is for Monkey

Every morning, no sooner than I’ve inhaled my kick-starting coffee, it all begins. I start jibber-jabbering away to myself and all sorts of words start cycling and recycling through my clunky head as I try to pick my word to go with the day’s letter. You see, I am now halfway through the Blogging A-Z April Challenge and with each passing day, the jibber-jabbering is only getting worse…the proverbial broken record.

Being a new recruit to the challenge, I didn’t realise until it all got underway that people generally write to a theme and turn it into quite a project. That’s right. This challenge goes way beyond simply reciting the alphabet and writing about “A is for apple”. My theme has ended up being “A few of my favourite things” and I’ve also been following the challenge on other blogs where I’ve been blown away by the amount of research involved and have learned so much!!

M is for Monster

While I have written a list of topics for each letter, some days I’ve revisited it and changed my mind.

For some reason, trying to pick something for M today has had me muttering more than usual.

Mummy

In a sense, M has to be Mummy, which I guess could also be M for Me. However, the trouble with writing about my journey as a Mum or about myself as “Mummy” is to come up with an angle that isn’t sickly sweet and sugar-coated or isn’t some never-ending whinge to end all whinges, leaving you all wondering why I ever had kids and thinking I don’t deserve them.

Next.

I did consider M for Manual, as in receiving a parenting manual when you give birth so you know what to do. After all, here in Australia, you have to sit a tough written test to get your Learner’s Permit before you can even start learning to drive a car Yet, when it comes to becoming a parent and leaving the hospital with your bundle of joy, there is no test. No licence required. You’re just left on your “pat malone” with what often turns out to be, quite a complex little bundle.

However, once I explored the manual concept further, I actually decided that I really didn’t want a manual or any kind of prescription telling me how to parent my kids. After all, being a bit of a free-thinking, creative type whose journey pretty much goes off road well beyond the road less traveled, I don’t want to create a pair of robots and I really don’t want to become a robot myself. I do try to have a routine during term time but come school holidays, I really do like to mix it up a bit, go away and explore something new but also just hang out. We all need to recharge a bit for another school term.

So, before I’d even written a word, I’d eliminated Mummy, motherhood, parenting manual and if you knew me in real time, you’d know that minimalist isn’t me. No, it’s definitely not me at all although I do appreciate those that fastidiously declutter their homes. They drop all sorts of fascinating treasures off at the op shop, which I snap and re-house. After all, treasure should never be homeless. We just need to get a bigger home or open a museum.

G’day Mate: a typical Aussie male greeting often used to disguise the fact they can’t even remember their best friend’s name.

I had originally been intending to write about miracles, which ties into what became something of a life mission to “turn my mountain around”. You see, I have an auto-immune disease called dermatomyositis as well as a neurological condition, hydrocephalus, which both give me some mobility challenges. In 2012, our family went on our first trip to the snow and although the rest of the family was going skiing, I didn’t think I could do it. Instead, I bought a pair of snow boots and intended to photograph the snow instead. However, on arrival, we spotted the Paraolympic ski team, who were out zooming down the slopes on sit skis.  This sowed a seed of doubt and I started to wonder whether I, too, could ski. We had a chat with them and they introduced me to the Disabled Winter Sports Association. We couldn’t get organised in time for that trip but I set myself a goal for the following year to ski down the mountain and in effect, turn my mountain around. In what really was quite a miracle, although it also took a fairly large dose of courage and encouragement from the family and my ski instructor, I made it down the mountain and turned my mountain around going down instead of up the mountain.

M is for mountain From Alphabet by Paul Thurlby
Published by Templar Publishing

I was so excited and on such a high, that I forgot all about the laws of physics and that what goes up, must come down.

Before we’d even left the skifields, I developed the first signs of a chest infection, which despite preventative measures, turned into a life-threatening bout of pneumonia and my auto-immune disease flared up and was attacking my lungs. Before I knew it, my life was flashing before my eyes and instead of being on top of the world, I was having chemo and fighting for my life.

Of course, this totally flipped my mountain back around and in the process it turned dark, stormy and very foreboding.

This wasn’t how my story, the motivational book I was working towards, was supposed to end up. This wasn’t the plot I’d worked out. No, it was anything but. I put the book writing plans on hold. Indeed, I was so sick that I didn’t have a choice.

You can read about my ski challenge here: https://beyondtheflow.wordpress.com/2013/09/11/turning-my-mountain-around/

However, if you know anything about Joseph Campbell and the hero’s journey, you’ll know that any journey has it’s complications or challenges but that doesn’t mean that’s where the journey ends. No, instead, we’re supposed to tackle those complications and work them  out and ultimately reach that perfect happy ending. We just need to make sure we don’t give up half way before things start turning around and starting to work out. Moreover, once we reach that happy state we need to end that journey before another journey begins, taking us to a completely new destination with a whole new set of complications, challenges and rewards.

While at first thought, it might seem desirable to get rid of all the mountains in our way to make the road smooth, without these mountains, we would never be stretched and grow to take on tougher challenges. We’d never find out what we are made of. This would be a serious loss because, through my own journey, I’ve truly come to appreciate that each of us is truly capable of doing and being way more than we ever thought possible.

Indeed, each of us is a living, breathing human miracle.

We just need to believe.

It seems that I should have had a bit more faith in my miscellaneous mutterings. It’s been quite an interesting journey and I actually found a destination after all.

Indeed, it could even be motivational.

xx Rowena

PS Geoff was doing a few miscellaneous mutterings of his own today after driving the kids all the way to their Scout Camp and finding out our daughter;’s daypack had been left behind. Unfortunately, she’d put most of her essentials inside and so a very loving Dad is driving all the way back to Nelson Bay to drop it off again tomorrow. Mutter…mutter…mutter!

PPS: Bilbo, our Border Collie, has added his howls to the mutterings tonight. Somehow, he managed to fall in the swimming pool. I had a friend over for dinner and we heard a splash follow by a few more splashes and the poor boy was desperately trying to pull himself out. I am so relieved I was within ear shot. Poor Bilbo. He doesn’t even like to get his paws wet so this was really quite an ordeal!!

Skiing Like A Banana

Just to recap, I am skiing down at Perisher with my husband and two kids. While the rest of the family are good skiers, I have a muscle wasting disease which also affects my lungs as well as a neurological condition. I have joined the Disabled Winter Sports’ Association (DWA) and am having daily lessons with a private ski instructor who has adaptive ski training credentials. Last year, I managed to ski down Perisher’s Front Valley and after subsequently being severely ill, I am trying to ski down the mountain again…turn my mountain around. This is my personal challenge and it’s definitely not a piece of cake!

Welcome to Day 3.

I was seriously intending to tackle the mountain today but I was feeling quite unsteady on my feet and giddy getting my ski boots on. I was also a bit short of breath. Decided to play it safe and spend another day on the magic carpet…the beginners run. Don’t want weird medical stuff happening out there on the mountain. No nasty surprises.

At the same time, this being day 3 and I was still on the magic carpet, I was starting to wonder. Was I playing it too safe? Why couldn’t I just catapult myself out there and do it? I knew I could do it so what was holding me back?

In retrospect, timing is everything. The time has to be right and like an egg about to hatch, the chick inside has to be ready to come out. A yolk is never going to survive. It’s way too early and it has to wait.

Of course, this kind of thinking goes quite against the grain in our modern fast-paced automatic world. Everything has to be instant…immediate. When there isn’t the time for things to ripen naturally, we blast it with chemical sprays or other accelerants and make it happen now…ready or not.

I can’t operate like that. I have to take it slow…inch by painstaking inch. Being slow, isn’t something that wins you many medals. At least not upfront but the rewards are there in the long run. You are still standing to collect your medal at the end of the race. Just ask Winter Olympic Gold Medal Skater, David Bradbury.

I christened myself the “Queen of the Carpet” half in pride, as a bit of a joke but there was also an undercurrent of sadness. I wanted to be a real skier and get out there on the big slopes. Get out of the nest. Surrounded by kids and parents wielding cameras, iphones, ipads and anything they could to capture their little darlings for eternity, I had clearly outgrown the nest.

At the same time, I was working hard on my techniques and was developing the skills that would get me down the mountain upright on two skis feeling positive about the experience instead of being scared out of my wits and or crashing all the way downhill and vowing never to ski again. For me, having that positive experience is way more important than collecting notches on my ski pole.

However, although I was merely going up and down the beginner’s carpet, I was focusing on improving my techniques and was really improving. It was a definite case of slow and steady wins the race but I was still in the nest and to win the race, you have to compete.

I don’t know what most skiers aim to achieve at the snow. Whether it’s a matter of actually learning how to ski and understanding what’s involved and working on your technique or whether they just want to get down the mountain anyway they can… as long as it’s not in a box.

It probably depends on how long you’re staying and whether you’ve caught “the bug”. We go down for 5 day blocks and find that really enables us to not only pick up where we left off last year but also to extend ourselves. Skiing is a dangerous sport and even if you’re being cautious, you can still get mowed down by someone else and pay the ultimate price.

This more cautious approach is quite different from skiing down a run and ticking it off your list. Our son told us that one of the boys in ski school had gone down an advanced black run and he was very impressed. However, when we quizzed him further, it turned out that the boy fell down the whole way and that didn’t count.

So here I was on Day 3 back on the magic carpet yet again but this time with my new instructor, Mark.

After living and breathing through my big toe yesterday, today Mark was teaching me to ski like a banana. Of course, I didn’t have to dress up like B1 or B2 from Bananas in Pyjamas. All I had to do was lean over my downhill ski like a banana.

I’m not too proud to admit that I found all this banana talk very helpful. It was something I could picture immediately and understand. At the same time, leaning over my downhill ski felt all wrong and back to front. After all, shouldn’t I be leaning uphill, away from the slope? Leaning downhill made no sense at all. Wouldn’t I fall over? Then again, I’ve never been good at physics.

In addition to learning to ski like a banana, Mark introduced me to the Eiffel Tower, this time as a how NOT to ski. This is where you ski with your legs wide apart and you’re body is in an A-frame, like the Eiffel Tower. Instead, I needed to ski with my legs together keeping my skis parallel.

There was motive in all this Eiffel Tower and banana talk. The plan was to improve my turning so I could use turning to stop and slow down instead of relying on snowploughing, which is really tough on your legs. Considering that my legs experience noticeable muscle weakness, I particularly need to be strategic and take advantage of any strategies I can to save my strength. That’s not simply being lazy but strategic. However, skiing without snowplowing felt like riding a bike down a steep hill without brakes…unnerving if not outright terrifying. However, my skiing had improved and it was time to leave the brakes behind and move on…onward and upward!

At the same time, leaving snowploughing behind felt really strange because it’s really hammered into you as a rank beginner. Like many other skills, you often have to unlearn what you know to progress to the next level…as strange as that might feel at the time.

We all have to graduate and leave the nest.

Indeed, that was the next thing on the agenda. How was I going to get down the mountain? Instead of skiing down Front Valley like I did last year which is fairly steep and very scary, the new plan was for me to try Happy Valley. I’d never been down there but at least the name sounded right. The plan was for me to get towed across to the Quad Chair. Get off at Mid-Station and ski down Happy Valley and then take the Happy Valley T-Bar back up to Mid-Station and then for me to somehow get my skis back down without me while I take the Quad Chair back down as a foot passenger.

The usual thing is to ski down Happy Valley and take the Happy Valley T-Bar up and then to ski down Front Valley. This was too much for me in one hit and so we needed to cut a few corners. However, as you can see, there’s a small hitch to the plan…

How do my skis get back down without me?

Hmm, interesting challenges ahead.

That night, the family went out for dinner and I asked Geoff and the kids for their advice. We had quite a long family discussion about how I should proceed. As much as I had outgrown the beginner’s magic carpet, it was quite awkward to get me to the next level…to take on mountains other than Front Valley.

Decided to have a chat with them at the booking desk tomorrow to see what they recommend. Despite all my procrastination, I really am needing to leave the nest and venture onto some “grown-up” slopes.

Moving onward and upward…I hope!

Beware of the Big Ski Toe!

“…the wind began to moan and groan:

away off in the distance she seemed to hear

a voice crying –

“Who’s got my hairy toe?

Who’s got my hairy toe”

So there I was out on the magic carpet on Day 2. Initially, we were going to ski across to the quad chair and head over to Happy Valley. However, my lesson was at 3.00 and so I’d done an hour of practice that morning and my legs were tired and almost out of action. That meant that we stayed on the carpet to improve my technique instead.

While this might seem less challenging than taking on the mountain, it was hard work. We were almost moving in slow motion to improve my technique and my muscles were working hard. Ursina addressed this directly. By working on my technique and how I positioned my weight and my body, the aim was to ski more efficiently. In particular, the plan was to snowplough less and to use my turns to slow me down which put much less pressure on my legs. Of course, I felt quite awkward trying to get my body and my brain to work together when they were both feeling equally awkward and jerky. I really had to switch my brain into high gear and it was jolting in protest all the way.

Not unsurprisingly, I’ve never been an athlete and aside from my violin lessons (yes, playing the violin is physical as much as musical), I haven’t given much thought to which body part you stick where to maximise performance. I’m not that into physics or how things work either. I just like to press a button and everything goes! It just goes!!

While I had been a bit apprehensive about having a different instructor, the lesson went really well and I was comfortable straight away. Indeed, I had 3 different instructors during the week and this turned out really well. They were all adaptive ski instructors, which means they are specially trained to teach people with disabilities and serious illness. Yet, what I found particularly beneficial was that each of my instructors had their own perspective or box of tricks and this really helped to consolidate my technique and I improved so much. Of course, it was also very beneficial to have private lessons so we could work intimately on my technique one-on-one. This meant that we were focusing on exactly what I needed to change to improve. That’s the benefit of having a private lesson and thanks to the special rates for DWA members, the lessons were half price. I also found that while each instructor had their own approach, they briefed each other really well so my lessons fitted seamlessly together, building up my performance brick by brick. I was really impressed at how it all came together and so was Tom when he came back. I wasn’t an expert but I was in the flow.

Confession time. I’m heading up for a hot chocolate not to ski.

Getting back to my big toe, when was the last time you seriously thought about what your big toe was doing? I mean, don’t you just shove a sock on it and hide it in a shoe?!! Okay, so I admit that I occasionally cut my toe nails and might scream and hop about when I drop something bang right on top of it but otherwise my big toe is the very much neglected thing at the end of my foot.

That all changed in this ski lesson where I had to focus all my energy on putting my weight on my big toe.

Well, I’m sure my lesson involved more than my big toe but that was the focus. I know she explained the theory at the time but now that I’m back home in front of my lap top, the explanations aren’t coming back to me. That’s probably because I filed it somewhere under “physics” and I’m much better with things filed under “p” for “photography” and “poetry” instead. There’s actually a lot of physics involved in skiing. However, I’ll cheat and consult my in-house physics expert. I promise to keep the physics lesson short and sweet. That way neither of us will turn into geeks.

Actually, Geoff was otherwise occupied watching the last lap of his car race so I resorted to Google.

Just as well I did Google those big ski toes. Turns out that you only put your weight on your big toe to turn. If I hadn’t checked that out, you could have been skiing turning round and round in eternal circles getting dizzy. Obviously, I am not a certified or otherwise ski instructor. I’m still an awkward, fumbling beginner. Now, I remember that I had to straighten myself up in between turns and have my skis parallel. I think that’s how it went. As I said, physics isn’t my thing and I have a memory like a goldfish but I still remember that verse from primary school:

“Who’s got my hairy toe?

Who’s got my hairy toe”

For some strange reason, every time my instructor mentioned my big toe, I heard those words echo in my head.

No doubt you’ve heard this poem/story at school or beside camp fire. As much as this haunting verse used to scare the begeebies out of me, I absolutely loved it…especially the ending where the narrator shouts out: “You’ve got it!!!” and you totally leap out of your skin and then laugh your head off. For some strange reason, there’s something about scary stories that makes kids laugh. Weird!

Anyway, enough of big toes, hairy toes and scary monsters.

I still had to get myself off the magic carpet and down a mountain.That’s been my challenge all along.

Not only getting back up that big, bad scary mountain but also skiing all the way down.

The Australian Alps

That’s right. Turning my mountain around for a second time. I was getting close. So very close and yet…

My goodness!

I could feel one hell of a headache coming on!!

The ski journey continues…

xx Rowena

Dipping My Toe in the Snow.

Wow! After more than seven long hours of driving and spending our first night in Jindabyne, we arrived bright and early in Perisher, otherwise known as “the snow”.

As I looked around soaking it up, I felt like I’d landed in a huge tub of cheap, whiter-than-white, vanilla ice cream. You know the stuff that’s pure white and not one of the better, creamy vanilla ice creams. The snow was deliciously thick and the skiers out on the slopes looked like those miniature figures you stick on top of birthday cakes. All we were missing was the candles, a match and Happy Birthday!

The weather wasn’t the best on our first morning. It had rained a lot the day before and the mountain was shrouded in mist. You couldn’t even see mid-station, let alone the summit. Visibility is a good thing when you’re skiing. By midday, the mist had lifted clearing the way for azure blue skies, which we enjoyed for the rest of the week. It was serious beach weather and all that was missing was the water. However, despite the balmy sunshine, it was still only 6-8°C out there and definitely NOT bikini weather…even for our daughter!!

Sun shining through the Snow Gums, Perisher.

While our kids went straight to ski school and my husband headed out to the slopes as soon as he could get the rest of us organised, I’d booked an adaptive ski lesson at 11.30 and had a bit of a wait. I am a member of the Disabled Winter Sports’ Association and I receive lift tickets and ski instruction half-price. We also received some much appreciated financial assistance under the Flexi-Rest program.

My instructor helping me on the Magic Carpet last year. I didn’t need that hand this year. Could get up the carpet myself.

I was stoked to book a lesson in with Tom, my ski instructor from last year. Tom is a specially-trained, adaptive ski instructor. He’s mean on two skis but I’ve heard that he’s also a legend in a sit chair. While it’s an achievement to be able to ski at this level, it is such an inspiration to see someone use their physical strength and expertise for good and to help people who are experiencing a few extra challenges, achieve their dream of skiing. This not only takes exceptional skiing ability but also a detailed understanding of the subtleties of so many different disabilities, treating people with respect and knowing when and how to encourage while bearing real and potentially risky limitations in mind. I was going to say that this is a gift, a talent but it’s no doubt taken a lot of hard work, a good set of listening ears and a real passion and empathy for helping people with disabilities to reach their potential.

I can’t tell you what this has meant to me and our family. It really is a terrible thing when you can’t go on a family holiday and do things together. That one member of the family is shut out and excluded when with a bit of patient, qualified assistance, they could be taking part. While I always appreciate a bit of “me-time” and having a break, it’s quite something else to be shut out of family activities. Through Tom’s help, the bird was set free from her cage and truly able to soar!!

Last year, Tom actually skied backwards down the mountain for me. That’s right. Tom skied backwards down the mountain so I could ski forwards feeling safe yet encouraged. This was much the same way as you see a parent encourage their toddler to walk beyond their first few tentative steps. How many people can say that anyone’s done that for them? Not many, I’m sure!! But Tom did that for me. Being a ski instructor, skiing backwards down a mountain wasn’t a big deal for him but it made a huge difference to a completely freaked out, panic-stricken me. There I was gobsmacked, perched on the very edge of the world holding my breath as I looked down, down, down. Perisher Village had shrunk into nothing more than a handful of dots. It was such a long, long way down and I was held in the very grip of fear. Indeed, I was frozen to the spot until I fell over. As much as I wanted a skidoo to come to my rescue, Tom went backwards down the steepest part at the top of the mountain holding my hands to encourage me down. I’m surprised that he wasn’t needing to dangle chocolate in front of me to lure me down, I was that frightened. At the same time, I desperately wanted to pull off this challenge. It had been in the pipeline for an entire year and I wanted to ski down this blasted mountain and turn my personal mountain around. I wanted to ring that victory bell!!!!

So having reached the bottom of the mountain, you can understand why Tom is my hero and has earned my respect. Oh please! I’m not some shameless, gushing cougar. No, I’m a skier! Tom and I discuss life, philosophy, writing, books and of course skiing while we’re out on the slopes. You do get to have a bit of a chat while you’re on the magic carpet. It takes awhile to crank you up even a small slope.

So there I was (along with Geoff who wanted to see how I went) a year later meeting Tom for my lesson on day 1. It was great to catch up but at the same time, I was apprehensive. How was I going to go after getting through pneumonia, a flare up of my auto-immune disease (which attacks and destroys my muscles by the way) and chemo? This savage trifecta might have knocked me down and tried its best to wipe me out but I’d got up again. Not just on my own strength but because effective treatment is available and also through the power of prayer. God wasn’t sleeping on the job either.

When it came to getting back onto the snow again, that’s where having a qualified instructor really made a difference. Left to my own devices, I wouldn’t have known quite how to get myself back onto the snow. However, Tom had me moving my legs back and forwards to get used to gliding and we did a few other bits and pieces and my ski legs almost came straight back to me. I was pleasantly surprised and somewhat amazed.

In no time at all, I was back up on the magic carpet and we were both seriously impressed. I had pretty much picked up where I’d left off last time. I was fairly smooth aside from some serious jolts and wobbles getting on the magic carpet. We did some snowploughs, turns and once again he drew the `S’ in the snow with his pole to illustrate turning. It all went so well…almost uneventful, which was pretty hard to believe after everything I’d been through. Last year, Tom even had to remind me to breathe on my first couple of days. Talk about progress!

It turned out that Tom was going to be away for a few days and so I’d be having some different instructors. I was initially very wary because Tom knew me so well and I hate having to explain my issues over and over again. Tom had also been quite literally my tower of strength last year. I am quite tall and when I fall over, it can be quite difficult for me to get myself up again even on land let alone on slippery skis in the snow. I knew Tom could do that. It really helps when you know someone knows you in this way and can help you.

Yet, while Tom and I are great mates, it was good for me to go with the other instructors because they each brought something new or emphasized a different element and so I developed quite a lot of depth to my skiing. It also meant that I came to rely more on my own strength and appreciate that it was me and not just Tom that was bringing about my success. I was practicing for an hour every day in addition to my lesson so I’d made quite a commitment to improving my skiing and was working as hard as I could. While practice might make perfect and it is tempting to try to get value for your ski pass, I do have a “smaller engine” and I really had to pace myself to get through the day. Two hours of skiing for me was my limit.

Close up a snow gum. They are so tenacious, enduring often extreme conditions yet so beautiful.

While my first day of skiing went exceptionally well, I hit an unexpected snag. Someone took my skis. Everyone stacks their skis on the racks provided and given that it’s mostly hired gear, you can understand people getting their skis mixed up. However, I had been using Geoff’s own poles and these were clearly labelled in not one but three places. At first, we spotted a pair of similar skis near where I’d left mine and thought there had been a mix up. Night skiing was on so people were still hanging around at the end of the day waiting to go out again so there were still quite a lot of skis out there. Soon those skis had been claimed and things were looking bad. Geoff rang through to the ski hire company and fortunately, someone had dropped my skis back to a ski hire place in Jindabyne. It turned out their skis were a different colour to mine on a different rack so you’ve really got to wonder what they were thinking. There I was with all sorts of memory issues from chemo brain yet someone else mixed their skis up and took mine!! You could say it takes brains.

That night, Geoff logged in and check out our ski stats. While my altitude metres were pretty woeful and that included my trip up to mid station as a walker to get my hot chocolate, I did actually score the most lift rides for the day. That’s the advantage of taking the magic carpet. It’s short and sweet.

The easy way to get down the mountain.

As pleased as I was with my progress, the mountain was still looming ahead. How would I work up the courage to get down the mountain again?

I still didn’t know.

Stayed tuned for further installments!

xx Rowena