Have you ever met a person, and had that one interaction stick in your mind? In some of those cases, we never get the chance to see them again, and all we have to remember them by is that one interaction.
This weekend, I had my first ski day of the season. Excited to get back on the slopes, I was also excited to see the hills I had hiked only a few months prior be covered in snow.
Flash back to the end of August, and you can see this lone, cold, wet hiker marching out of the late summer blizzard. Soaked to the bone, pushing one foot infront of the other to keep warm. For me, this was day 6/8 and, though not the most physically demanding (as I had done 29km in 7.5 hours two days prior), it was the most emotionally draining. Carrying my intensely heavy pack that was only getting heavier as the snow collected, with people passing in the other direction without even so much as a hello, after not having had a legitimate conversation with anyone for 48 hours, I'm sure you can understand the frustration this brought.
Flash forward to the following weekend, and you'd find me in the same area, this time in the sunshine with my father, as he asked me "Why do you say hello to everyone?". It's simple. In our society focused around extreme connectivity, when you're in an area that has no cellphone reception, no internet to surf, the people you see are your primary lifeline, and your interaction is your safety. "If you don't say hello, then you've just missed a friend".
Jump back to that snowy day, and you can see my pace quicken as I see the Sunshine Village Lodge, and the prospect of artificial heat and a bathroom with warm water.
Opening the door, I was met with the feeling of warmth beyond my own. It felt strange to be standing in this building that most associate with the lunch time ski rush, but with the only sound being my breathing, and the drip drip drip of the slush off my jacket. I let out a window rattling sigh of relief.
And from the empty diner came a quiet "Hello?"
Sitting at a table, off to the side, was a woman, not much older than me. "You can come in" she said. Obviously my dumbfounded look had made its way from my mind and onto my frozen face. It had only been two days since I had someone to talk to, but it felt like an eternity. To have someone "invite me in" was almost beyond my comprehension, that is, until my feet did what they do best.
Walking into the room, I chose a table not too far, but not to close to the girl, so as to save her from the smell that was my every day. It took me a few moments to say anything of any worth. When you had been talking to yourself for a few days, it's easy to forget that, though you think it, they can't hear it.
Her name was Alex. She was a year round staff of the ski hill, and this was to be her last weekend working before heading home to Halifax. She had said "It was time to stop being a ski bum", which made me smile as I ate my pitas and cheese. I found it hard to maintain eye contact with her, not because I was shy, but because I was very aware of my own dirty appearance in comparison to her washed clothing and combed hair. I put on my one mostly clean toque to try and appear a little less ferral in the presence of someone so civilized.
I realized that I had been loosing weight rapidly, and decided to scope the store to see what they had with regards to food. A few sandwiches, some juice, but mostly chips and chocolate. I selected an orange, orange juice, a bar of chocolate, and a brownie to save for later. Walking up to her table, where she had a computer and a cash register, I got my first good look at her.
Her hair was tied in a long poney tail, and her face showed just enough sun to glow. The poor lighting in the room did not do her eyes justice, but they were kind, and made me forget where I was for a moment.
Until the phone rang.
I took my treats back to my table and began to organize my thoughts surrounding my pack, reminding myself that I had just met this girl and not to expect anything beyond temporary conversation. I had not planned to stop in here, but now that I had the opportunity, I could get rid of some of my food and garbage, and was happy to do so.
She watched as I pulled the contents of my backpack out and laid them out on the table. She asked about what I packed and what I would suggest or not suggest. As it turned out, she was planning on doing part of the trip I was in the middle of, starting the next weekend.
She's lucky I still had some semblance of restraint, because I would have proposed right then and there. I suggested a pump, told her about the rules and regulations of the park, as well as various things to watch out for, as well as a handful of stories from other trips I had done.
It took a fair amount to force myself to leave - when you've been cold and on your own, it's a challenge to leave comfort again. But clean clients had already begun to flow through the door, tickets ready to catch the bus down. The thought of joining them crossed my mind for a moment, as the wind bit into my face once again, and lingered for just longer than a moment before being blown away.
That evening, I stood in the snow, waiting for my water to boil and thought on my current situation. I had almost fallen quite a few times, and my backpack was still heavy, even without the garbage I had gotten rid of. Even during my evening "Wilson" session, where I talked to my camera, I had all but convinced myself, if I woke up to snow, I would leave early. However, one thought kept me in hope.
"Alex said tomorrow will be better"
Though all she had done was check the Environment Canada website, it was still hope. Who'd have thought, all it would take was one stranger saying something, and I felt warm again. Asking her for her number had slipped my mind, and my heart sank a little as I realized that there was no way to contact her again. Regardless, our short interaction kept me from shivering too badly through the night.
Flash forward to the following weekend. Standing in the Sunshine parking lot, I couldn't help but wonder if I'd ever see that girl from Halifax again. My father had asked me to take him on a short section of my trip, and I took this opportunity to suggest the section starting at sunshine. The chances of seeing her again were slim, and I had to fight my hopes to keep them from forming.
Until she got on the bus.
It took her a moment to realize that I was the soaked, tired hiker from the week before, but a weeks worth of sleep and showers can easily change that. I hope I didn't seem to eager to see her, but truth be told, I was.
I'm not sure that parents understand that there are some things you don't share. Say, you have a baby picture where you some how managed to eat dog food, or perhaps a story about your first girlfriend, or a secret crush you had on your best friend. I had described the impact she had had on my last three days of hiking, and my dad decided to share that with her by saying "He described you like an angel".
Thanks dad.
Blushing, I asked where her hiking partner was. Apparently her friend had flaked out, and she was about to venture off on her own. Only 3-4 days, mind you, but I nearly ditched my father. Her backpack was small, with a heavy kitchen pot attached by a carabiner on the outside. Though the weather outlook was far better than mine, for a first backpacking trip, I would never wish for anyone to do that alone.
Unable to commit myself to breaking from my father, we gave her a whistle and a few other things. If I couldn't go with her, it was the least we could do.
This time, I was smart enough to get her number. I was even bold enough to give her a hug.
4 days later, sitting in my basement after feebly staring at my pile of gear, trying to will it into order with my mind, I finally worked up the courage to call.
The tone rang twice. The voice on the other side was garbled with static, and I moved closer to the window. "Hello? Alex?"
"Hello? Banff Avis Car Rentals, how can I help you?"
My brain raced. Had she given me the wrong number on purpose? No, she didn't seem like the type. Plus she said she'd be interested in coffee before she went back east. I explained my situation to the attendant on the other end of the line. Normally people wouldn't listen to that sort of ramble when standing at a desk, but it must have been a slow day, because we had a 10 minute conversation about the subject. I hadn't gotten her last name, so facebook wasn't an option. I could call sunshine, but that would make me a creep. We ran through all the options we could, but to no avail.
"Put out the word, find her some how, dude. You can't let it end there" she had said.
I don't mean this to be romantic, as the idea has romanticized itself enough as is. But from this, I hope you take the importance of others. When you're cold, wet and alone, sometimes a smile is all the fire you need. Even when all hope seems lost, tomorrow will be better.
This is the word, and the word is Hello.
Alex, if you ever find this, don't worry about the whistle, just drop me a line.
Sincerely,
Carter Ficht
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