I am cross-country skiing with my family on the beautiful trails off Upper Canada Road in Morrisburg. The trails have names like ‘Chickadee’, ‘Blue Jay’, and ‘Cardinal’. It’s a beautiful day, but I am getting tired trying to keep up with the others. I see them stopping, and suddenly I am hopeful that a break is imminent. But much to my dismay, when I finally reach them, they start moving again. “It’s not fair! I didn’t get a break,” I whine. Dramatically, I plop down in a snowbank and pipe up: “I am just going to stay here and die!” If I were expecting sympathy, I am about to be greatly disappointed, as my mother responds: “Okay. Stay here and die. We will pick you up on the way back.” She knows all too well that I will not allow myself to be left behind. My father, more indulgent, bribes me with a promise of lunch at the Upper Canada Golf and Country Club if I make it that far, so reluctantly, I pick myself up.
Flash-forward half a century. The Morrisburg trails are long gone and live only in my memory, but I am still skiing. Today I am with the Cornwall Outdoor Club at Larose Forest in the Bourget Sector. We are a group of eight skiers of varying skill levels. I am struggling to get my skis on. In times like these I miss the three-pin bindings of my old skis. Still struggling, I look up to see five people from our group push off. As I watch them disappear around a bend, I realize that my chances of catching up are slim to none. One would think that with so many years of experience, I would have picked up some speed, but an athlete is something I have never been. Happily, we have arranged to meet at the warm-up cabin to regroup. Our break will just be shorter, but there will be a break, of that I am certain.
With a plan in place, the three remaining skiers can stick together. The pressure to keep up has been eliminated. I am not worried about the distance. I have the endurance to complete the 9-km loop we have chosen. Crisscrossing the forest, the wide and mostly flat trails are always perfectly groomed for both classic and skate skiing.
This forest provides a significant moose habitat. It leaves me to wonder where they hide out during daylight as the only clue of their existence seem to be their intersecting tracks in the snow. The sky is white today due to the impending snowfall, but it is not dismal. The sunlight, diffused as if behind a sheer curtain, gives a pastel hue to the forest. It is quite pretty. Occasionally we cross other skiers, but it is such a vast conservation area, that our sense of peace is rarely disrupted. It is pleasant to ski at a leisurely pace while observing our surroundings. I find the experience of being in the moment very uplifting, an opportunity to recharge my batteries. It almost makes me forget that I am exercising, strengthening my core and nearly every muscle in my body.
By the time we finally reach the warming hut, we have gone more than halfway around our loop. As promised, the rest of our group is inside and engrossed in conversation. The small hut is crowded but we squeeze around the table grateful for the heat from the small woodstove. We talk of everything and nothing, just happy to be enjoying a day in the outdoors. When other people start arriving, our friends who have been there the longest decide to vacate their spots. They will do a 15-minute loop and come back to meet us.
Warmed up and clipped-in to my skis, with a little assistance this time, I set off in pursuit of the faster skiers, but my energy reserve peters out quickly and I abandon the chase. My parents’ upbringing has proved effective. There is no whining or throwing myself down into a snowbank in exasperation. I have found my own rhythm somewhere in the middle and that is okay.
For more information about the Cornwall Outdoor Club, visit our website at www.cornwalloutdoorclub.ca or follow us on Facebook.
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