Flying. Trains. Trams. Meat pies. Sausage rolls. Lamb.
Those were all firsts for me, and most of them had rather decent outcomes. But one adventure happened on my trip that I was definitely not expecting.
My trip to Australia was also the first time I ever saw real snow.
Sure, it drizzles some sleet every now and then in my small little beach town, but the last time it actually got anywhere near a “snowy” potential was when I was three. And apparently I was sick so I was not allowed to play in the cold and wet festivities.
So after a couple of weeks in the mild winter of southern Australia, I didn’t think that snow would ever be something I would cross paths with.
But my boyfriend was pretty set on a trip to the mountains to build a snowman. Lucky me.
So after borrowing heaps and heaps of warm ski gear, we researched the best location and took off early one morning to conquer the blistering cold.
Sitting down in the car was a bit hard to do since I was wearing what felt like a hundred or so layers. Better safe than sorry, right? But I was excited.
Snow. Snow. Snow.
I was a complete and total beach bum, so frozen water wasn’t something I even knew how to handle and I kept wondering what the snow would feel like under my boots.
Crunchy? Slippery? Hard?
My brain kept racing and I kept smiling to myself, caught up in the idea of it all.
After a stop at a small bakery, we were on our way up a tall-ish mountain (I say tall but to me an ant hill is pretty damn tall too). Round and around we went, sharp turns and crisp air as we made our way towards the peak of the mountain.
The gum trees rose so high over our heads that I could not see the tops of them, and I was in awe of all of the beauty this land had to offer as I breathed in the air that became colder and colder the higher up we went.
There were piles of the snow on the sides of the roads and I knew that we were getting close. Our stop was soon. The trees and bushes held bundles of snow in their arms, holding them tightly, as if warming them from themselves. The sky was grey, the same grey I saw on my first day here. Like a shiny oyster shell, the sun was no where in sight.
Before we knew it we were parking and throwing on another sweltering layer of clothes as well as lacing up our boots tightly. The excitement in me rose as I watched young children prance around in their brightly colored snow gear, their faces showing probably as much excitement as my own. I was practically a little kid in a candy store.
The only problem was, I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to take a step into the snow and fall straight onto my face. The encouragement I had to give myself was almost comedic. Eventually though, I gained up enough courage to take a step and start walking towards the main entrance.
If you do not know me, then you should probably be informed about how dang graceful I am. Tripping over air may be hard for some, but it is a task that has always came naturally to me. My face and the floor are great acquaintances with each other, and I have been kindly escorted by an ambulance two or three times in my life. No biggie.
So, take that same lanky, tall person and put her into some slippery snow, and you have yourself some entertainment ladies and gents.
I got the hang of it after a few hours or so though, and I felt pretty confident with my movements. But then again, don’t I always?
We skipped on all of the snow boarding and skiing and went straight for the snowmen. Because, like I said earlier, I was a kid in a candy store. So one snow man, and one snow dog later, I was whooped. Snow was a lot harder to play with than I originally thought. How do these kids do it for so long?
Snow men? Check.
The last thing on my list?
Tobogganing. A.k.a sledding.
So after purchasing one toboggan, because my lovely boyfriend only wanted to watch me do it, I was off for the starting line.
Surrounded by tons of ten year olds and some toddlers, I was in starting position. I was taught that the piece of rope would slow me down when I got to the end of the hill (or what I liked to call, the finish line), and gave it a few tugs for good measure. I looked to my right and saw my boyfriend, phone in hand, waiting to take some probably pretty embarrassing photos.
Some kids got in my way, so figuring out my timing was tough stuff. But then it was my turn, my line of glory was straight ahead. My feet kicked the slick snow and I was off racing down the hill.
And I did not like this one bit. There were mounds of snow that made me catch air and fly for a short while before landing firmly back onto my bottom. Kids crashed in front of me and I had to use quick thinking to get out of their way or else end up as roadkill like them. The end of the hill came quickly and I struggled to pull on the rope with my thickly gloved hands, my sled slid to it’s side and before I knew it I was tumbling over into the snow, kids dodging me left and right.
Tobogganing was like driving in a high speed chase.
It was pretty thrilling.
I told you people, I am a small child.
My face red from the wind and from laughter, I met up with my boyfriend on the sidelines and tried to compose myself. That was a lot of fun, I told him, I’m gonna do it again!
Well, I said that, until I realized I had to walk it all the way back up the hill.
Did I ever mention how much I hate hills?
Until Next Time!!!