Books We Love Insider Blog: #skier

Thursday, February 9, 2023

He’s Determined to Ski Again – Barbara Baker

In 1937, when Dad was five-years-old, he learned to ski in his hometown, Partenkirchen, Germany. His first pair of skis were handmade.

Years later when he started racing, he crashed while training and broke his femur. He said it was hours before ski patrollers found him because he’d flown off the course and into the trees.

While he was in the hospital, with his leg in traction and strapped to a sky hook, bombs shook the building. Nurses ran through the ward shouting for patients to get under their beds. Dad laughs when he tells the story and says all he could do was put a pillow over his head.

Dad has skied all his life but took a two-year hiatus when he was 88 years old so he could have a long-over-due knee replacement. After the surgery, he exercised. He walked. He exercised some more. He was determined to ski again.

On January 10, 2023, we arrived at the Mt. Norquay ski resort, outside of Banff, well before the lifts opened. I forced myself to slow down - my walking, my talking (I can be a chatterbox). I wanted to focus on Dad and be helpful without him asking.

Boots on, skis on, poles in hand, we headed to the beginner hill. I stayed beside him as he tested out sliding and then climbing up the slope. Each time he climbed a bit higher.

Snow plow turns first. Then the stem christie maneuver. The parallel turns proved to be trickier. Dad’s new knee worked just fine and the leg slid nicely into place. But the old knee, which was used to being in charge for decades, was pushy and uncooperative. It rushed ahead of the uphill ski and Dad would have to stop to reposition himself.

After a few equipment adjustments and more practice, Dad was ready to go up the lift.

“Can you ask the liftie to slow it down?” he said as we got our tickets scanned at the Cascade chairlift.

I took a breath and gave a silent prayer to whomever was listening.

“Can you please slow it down,” I said to the lift operator. “He’s ninety. Testing out his new knee.”

“No problem,” the Aussie accented girl replied. “Just wave to the operator at the top and he’ll slow it down again for you to get off.”

“Perfect.”

The chair swung around and scooped us up. Dad scanned the run. He was quiet. So was I. As we got to the last tower I waved at the guy in the hut. He flagged a thumbs up. I nodded.

“I don’t know if I can stand,” Dad said.

I moved right next to him and squeezed his bicep. “I’ll just shuck you off if you can’t get up.”

He laughed. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

After an uneventful exit we stood at the top and looked down the run. Dad nodded and slid his skis back and forth. Away he went. Again, I held my breath and followed but not too close. I didn’t want to rush him.