Though the city of Edmonton, where I live, is in the prairies, on the edge of the rolling parkland, we are not that far from the Rocky Mountains; I like to think of the mountains as our backyard. It is about a four or five-hour drive, depending on the speed you drive, or if you feel seeing the mountains in the distance counts as almost being there!
My hubby and I met in the mountains, oh so many years ago, so apart from all the healthy fresh air beauty, we have a romantic mountain yearning and to satisfy this hunger, we make two visits a year: summer and winter. We have just enjoyed our winter week trip. We go to the Purcell Mountains in British Columbia with a little stop-off in Banff on the way. We stay in the village at the Panorama ski resort, here, I downhill ski for three days and Nordic ski for three days. This is my dignified routine, dignified is another word to describe my chicken ski style. Green and blue runs are my friends and I cruise them gently enjoying the views. It is all about the view.
With the years, I am now the only person in my family generation who is still skiing, I am a bit sad about this, and even the friends we bring along will usually only maybe Nordic ski. In former days, I found social time on the ski lifts, but this has become a victim of Covid. At the moment people are nervous about chummy-teaming up on the lifts. I miss those chats with fellow skiers from all over Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Britain, the States and elsewhere.
The winter Olympics were happening in Beijing during this time. How thrilling to watch those skiers and snowboarders launch high into the air and twist and flip; it is breathtaking to see the downhill people who ski in one rapid icy streak down a steep descent. Though fascinating and entertaining to watch, their sport was in a different universe from my sedate turns and curves on the green and blue runs. I might add, that whenever possible, my skis do not lift off the snow.
Home again and I am fretting and stressing over my Camino travel plans. My last post was how to get there, there being Canfranc, where I am a volunteer in a pilgrims’ hostel for two weeks. I sort of feel comfortable with my seven-day walking plan to get there, now it is sorting out how to leave. This time on public transport. Canfranc has a great historic train station but at this time, it only has a regional train service into Zaragoza. I will do an early morning seven-kilometre uphill walk to the station and take the train to Zaragoza, then I need to cross the city to another station and get the rapid train to Madrid, then a local train to the airport and a flight out. I fly to London where I will arrive late evening. If I can make all these connections work, it will be amazingly wonderful.
I am distressed at how I can tie myself up in knots and the internet trying to sort all this out. No doubt, once the transport is in place, I will turn my stress into the whole question of packing, that is packing the backpack that I will carry on my back. This is my fourth Camino visit so I am not a complete beginner but it has been a while. I so sympathized with the man who posted on a Camino forum, that the closer his Camino trip gets, the more nervous he is feeling.
I have company!