A 'Big White' Christmas ! (Part I)

Unfortunately now working for a consultancy practice that employs forty year old nerds who still get excited by the power of their computer processors whilst drawing pretty pictures of dull buildings, otherwise known as Architects, I missed out this year on one classic perk of the traditional British Construction worker!.

A two week holiday shutdown in honour of good old Saint Nick and all things gluttonous by way of food and drink !

This sadly meant that with only a few select days off I would not be able to make the trek home to Blighty and a traditional English Christmas in Lancaster and Ormskirk.

My saving grace was that being in the land of the single expatriate on a mission to ski as many days as possible during winter 06/07, I found two willing idiots keen on embarking upon the shared mission that was to become a ‘BIG WHITE’ Christmas !!

‘Big White’ for those who have not yet made beautiful BC is a ski resort some 300 miles within the interior of the province and is famed for having super light and powdery snow that falls in extreme abundance on regular occasions !

(Personally the only thing I found in abundance there was annoying and loud Australians – but we will come to that later)

Leaving the office on the last Friday before the big fat fella in red and white was due to make an appearance, Team chauffeur Leigh demanded Garry and I take it easy on the grog that night as he would not be happy if the 6am agreed departure for the following morning slipped by as much as ten minutes.

Double standards I say ! Standing at the bar in Smiley O’Neal’s who do we see sneaking out the door with a heavily tattooed lady under his jacket but the one and only A.D.D Hudson !

Crikey sport ! What are ya gonna do with that ! You better not be late mucka !

Thankfully being the sensible and disciplined soul I am, bed for Stig was made well before midnight !

Ahem – yes ? If you believe that then pinnochio may well be entering this Christmas tale somewhat soon !

Truthfully, Garry and I did both make pick up on time but with about four hours sleep between us.

It rapidly became apparent that A.D.D Hudson must have had more in the region of ten hours, as he began talking at 200mph and was somewhat reminiscent of a four year old who had just had ice cream and chocolate sauce for breakfast !

Loading up the side kick with skis and poles poking out of every window off we went on our 8 hour odyssey that would take us east via Hope (where Rambo First Blood was filmed), Manning Park, Penticton, Kelowna and finally Big White !

Now please remember at this point – the side kick transmission only kicks in after 20k – the rear window long since got punched through by the bums in the West End and is therefore wide open – the heating only marginally warms the front occupants – the tires are both as old and as bald as Garry’s bonce – the top speed is about 75kph – there is no radio and the back seat is permanently wet from being parked outside at night !

All in all a ride I’m sure you will agree that has definitely not been pimped by MTV any time recently !

Garry and I therefore agreed to make regular shift swaps and take two hour hits in the back with all the bags and skis whilst freezing our respective cobblers off ! Initially having packed my arctic sleeping bag as a piss take, we soon became grateful I had done so as it was soon used to ward off frostbite in the legs of who ever was in the back !

In fairness the ride was stunning and the peaceful serenity only briefly disturbed by the occasional slide and swerve in the snow falling on the mountain pass of Manning Park. As you would predict having no radio within the side kick the banter soon became ever more stupid in between Leigh providing horrendous renditions of his favourite love songs.

At this point and having heard first hand the scandalous story of our firm marketing officer grabbing Garry’s buttocks at the Christmas party (as detailed in the most recent blog) whilst declaring she thought said bald English crooner was gorgeous, we nearly crashed once more laughing at the tale being told.

Enter the nickname ‘Gorgeous George’ that sadly for Garry stuck like mud to a hut for the remainder of the trip.

Thankfully before we all went stir crazy at Leigh’s singing and my legs needed to be amputated with frostbite we arrived at our palatial gaff at the Glacier Creek Lodge in sunny Big White !

Merry Christmas ! Ho Ho Ho ! Sking it is tomorrow morning then on Christmas Eve !