I met Barb on a ski slope called Devil’s Elbow just outside of Omemee, Ontario, in 2008. We hit it off immediately and since then we’ve skied — and apres-skied — together many times.
About six years ago she invited me on a skiing trip to the Rockies of Colorado, down the road from Vail. She was going with another friend, Johanna, and my friend Fran and I signed up to share a room with her.
We got a good price flying down to Denver, but it required changing at O’Hara in Chicago. Things were going well until we realized the next flight to Denver had been cancelled. We managed to wangle a way there, which involved waiting at Omaha, Nebraska, for a few hours for a turboprop plane — in a snowstorm! (And Fran is afraid of flying.) All that was open at the airport was MacDonald’s, so we washed down a burger each with some Shiraz. It was so late when we got to Denver that we’d missed our van up the mountain, so we waited again.
Barb didn’t have a cellphone, but somebody at the condo did so we got a message to them that we would be arriving between 2 a.m. and 3 a.m. Usually, the vans drop you off at a meeting point, but because it was so late we negotiated to be taken right to the condo… we just didn’t know exactly which one.
As we approached, not feeling great after a long day of travelling and climbing 10,000 feet on top of a McDonald’s and wine, we spotted a flashing light in one of the buildings. Barb had waited up and was turning the lights on and off for much of an hour to guide us in!
I took the next day off and Barb and I went through the village of Frisco at Copper Mountain. It was a funky little place with really neat stores and Barb — of course — figured out where all the good second-hand spots were and even found a sports place. She was amazing at thrift shopping and knew exactly where to go just by talking to the regulars staying at the condo.
We were the add-ons to bring the price down and being the new kids on the hill, the three of us were designated the smallest room with three beds. Between a double bed and the clothing closet, there were just a few feet and while she was rifling through her suitcase looking for the perfect après-ski wear, these cramped quarters sometimes led to unexpected views of Barb’s bare derrière. Fran said, “I’ll never forget that!”
Barb was in her late seventies at the time but could out-ski any of us who were at least 20 years her junior. Fran has since taken her daughters to stay with Barb, one of whom, Andrea, is a real horsewoman and went on a trail ride with her. Barb said, “Now, y’ know, I’m almost 80, I can’t ride like I used to…” And just after Andrea replied, “That’s ok, we can take it slow,” Barb flew by her with a big smile on her face. That was her attitude — she would just give it. She would ski all day and still have more gas in her tank to dance at the bar at the bottom of the hill.
Often, after a day on the slopes, we would cook together. She had been a Home Ec teacher and was a creative cook. She told me, “You know your way around the kitchen, that’s good.” Coming from her that was a great compliment.
About halfway through our week skiing with the “Energizer Bunny,” as she was nicknamed, the three of us decided to break for lunch after a most enjoyable morning skiing beautiful powder. There were trees on one side and an awfully steep incline approaching the chalet. Both Fran and I thought, “Oh my goodness, we’d better slow down,” but Barb was going full tilt. Going too fast was what she did.
She must have caught an edge or hit a bump, I don't know exactly how she ended up airborne but she went 180 degrees and landed on her back. Fran couldn’t look, she thought Barb was dead and the man beside her asked, “Do we need a chopper to get her to the hospital?”
A minute later we were on our way to attend to her, but before we could reach her she shook herself off and said, “Can you help me get back into these damn skis?” And then off we went to lunch. Fran and I had both assumed her aerial manoeuvres were going to cut our vacation short. Oh, ye, of little faith! We ate lunch and then went straight back to skiing. We thought she was invincible and maybe, in fact, a superhero. She was tough. Back on the horse, back on the slopes!
On our way home from this adventure, it was found that Barb’s plane ticket didn’t exactly match her passport. One of the airline personnel started giving her a hard time and threatening that she wouldn’t be able to board the plane. Barb knew how to get this situation remedied so she started yelling very loudly over and over, “I need assistance!” and accusing the officious airline staff of taking advantage of a poor little older woman. They certainly got more than they bargained for. She put on a huge scene and soon went on her way. Again I thought, “You’re my superhero, Barb!”