This is a picture of me with my skiing instructor Peter. It was taken this morning after our lesson. The lesson began badly. We went to a part of the mountain that looked to me like a sheer drop into an abyss and I froze at the top of it. Not because the temperature was below freezing but because I suddenly became very scared indeed and just couldn't move. The more I began to panic the more I started to slip down the mountain and the more frightened I became. The thought of just not being able to do this crept like a virus through my mind and those huge big fat tears began to form at the back of my eyes. Thank God for large sunglasses. I could see LBH below looking earnestly up the mountain willing me to move but it just wasn't happening. Finally dear Peter managed to make his way back up the mountain and extend his ski stick far enough for me to make a tentative grab for it.
" I cant do it. I need to go back down. I cant do it"
" Where are you going to go, Cherry? You cant go anywhere but down. Come on now, grab the end of the ski stick. It's OK, go very slowly."
*very slight but definite shake of my head stating that I would not be going in a down direction*
"Cherry now, have confidence. You did so well yesterday, where has your confidence gone? Come on Cherry, you can do it. Go very slowly, yes? That's it Cherry, good, good. See, you are a good skier, no? You are moving now, no?
You had the wrong breakfast. Tomorrow you start the day with a schnapps! No?"
And so Peter, in his thick Swiss German accent and his broken English got me down. The rest of the lesson was great. I went on to become more confident and capable and ended the lesson with what was perhaps the beginning of a technique and a nice chunky bit of speed to rival LBH's. While Peter and I were on the lift going up the mountain he told me of the time he was in last in London . It was 1965 and he was 17 years old. He knew he needed to leave the security of Saas Fee to improve his English in order to be able to teach. So he came to London, lived in Finchley and went to the Swiss restaurant in Swiss Cottage, North London every night to eat. He also cried a great deal due to homesickness but he knew he had to see this time through so he would be able to have the life he so wanted. He got that life. He has stayed in Saas Fee his whole life. He married, had a family and has two grandchildren. On one of the routes we took today Peter pointed to the top of one of the mountains.
"See those two yellow huts on ze top there, no?"
We all looked up to see what looked like two garden sheds, but must have been larger.
"I stay there for three months every Summer" Peter said. "I stay there for the climbers, no. I cook the breakfast and I help the climbers when they want to to go to the top of ze mountain"
I loved the description of his life. The Winter spent on the slopes, gently but firmly coaxing visitors like me down in moment of fear and the Summers in the hut. Serving climbers and sharing his vast knowledge of the area and terrain.
But he is only at this point in his life because he saw that time in London through to the end. I had a similar time when I was 19 and in Brazil. I saw that through to the end but not without trying very hard to get out of it. We have these mountains peppered throughout our lives. Times when the only light at the end of the tunnel is another train. But these times do end.
This break that LBH and I have taken has given me time to do so much thinking and preparing. Often I can tell when there is a change afoot. I know myself so well now that I know when to begin the girding of my loins. I know how to spot the subtle change in the wind and it's important at times like this for me to be very still and very quiet as it could be a storm that is around the corner. The storm isn't necessarily a negative thing. It could be anything from a very busy time when LBH and I hardly see anything of each other to a time of intense joy and happiness that is also particularly testing at the same time.
This time is also a time of intense fear for many different reasons that I am not able to go into. Nothing bad or untoward just something that I never wanted to face again. And I may just have to bite the bullet and face it. It will be OK and it certainly wont be as bad a second time around but I'm just so gutted that it might have to be this way.
This is my current mountain. I have them. You have them. LBH has them. My parents and friends have them. Mine are very small compared to the mountains that others have to climb. I'd be embarrassed to explain what my silly mountain was to somebody who had a real one, but grace teaches us that these things are relative.
Goodness. What a day. I hate the saying 'every day is a school day', it sounds so trite and smug. But I learnt something today up on that mountain. I learnt that no matter how high it seems I will get down from it through sheer grit, determination, a positive mental attitude and an absolute refusal to give into my fears.
Thank you dearest Peter. While you go back to your beautiful little wooden hut in this alpine village of yours you will never know how much you taught me today.
LBH continued to ski after our lesson had ended, I however had had enough. So I went back to the hotel room.
I put my feet up on the very comfy hotel bed.
And watched Gentlemen Prefer Blondes on TCM. Two hours later I awoke to the phone ringing and LBH telling me he was downstairs and needed the room key.
So here's to your mountain and my mountain, whatever they may be. I'm not going to suggest that we raise a glass to them and gently tell them that we shall conquer them eventually.
I would like to propose that we try and summon all the strength we have and bash the life out of the buggers ;-)
Have a lovely day.
Cherry x
