Parting with such sweet sorrow

On Saturday we had a garage sale. It felt really great to get rid of so much stuff we never use, hopefully to someone else who will use it. 

My biggest thrill was finding a woman to adopt my cross country skis (wood with soft lignite edges, not these plastic boards with metal edges). Those skis were magical, they got me up and down some amazing mountain trails in the Rockies around Banff in my 20's and 30's.  And around here when we would get snow, I'd throw them out to season, and sometimes get Jim across the back fence to apply some wax, and off I'd go until I was too tired to move, but I'd have this huge grin that would last for days.

The bear trap bindings that hugged the backs of the boots and clipped down up front were as shiny as when I bought them 40 years ago in Calgary in a little ski shop in SW Calgary.

The woman was taller than me, but the buttery soft leather boots with down filling fit, and yes, we checked, she could wiggle her toes to keep them from freezing. Those leather boots had metal pieces protecting the flanges on the front to fit in the bear trap bindings. And the blue leather handled bamboo poles, they were still so pretty. I forgot to give her the spare aluminum tip, so if she reads this, please come back for it.

What was bitter sweet were the memories. Gigantic crunchy garlic pickles at the top of Stanley Park Glacier in the sunshine sitting on green garbage bags to keep our bums dry. Drinking from surgical tubing strung over the snowy puffed edges of the Paint or Ink Pots, whichever they were, at the top of Johnston's Canyon just outside Banff on the old road.

Old army wool pants from the Army Surplus by the Stampede, cut off at the knee to adapt to cross country, wool sweaters, and in those days, there weren't gortex jackets, but green garbage bags were perfect for sitting on for lunch, and did double duty as wind protection on the way down. It would take about 2 or 3 hours to climb up, 45 minutes for lunch and 45-75 minutes to whiz down. Days are short in the mountains in winter.

Another memory was the time the temperature was dropping so fast on the way back from a lake that I ended up with about 12 inch blocks of ice all the way down each ski because the wax we figured would work - well let's say it didn't even come close.

There was this couple, I thought they were elderly, but they were probably in their 60's that we used to often meet on those trails. I always thought that I'd be like them, out there in the winter on sunny days with the sun on bright snow in the Rockies. Wasn't meant to be.