It is winter on the mountain. All around snow and ice covers the landscape like a bit of glad wrap around a week old burrito. Everywhere is white and crinkly. But it’s not all white. The landscape is speckled with brown tussocks and at the bottom of the hill are the bright colours of the base area: red archway, yellow walls and a singular blue roof. All throughout the air you hear the beautiful scraping of skis sliding on freshly groomed tracks. Their bases across the corduroy are like spoons across rough concrete. The gentle hum of the electric motor in the chairlift purrs as the skiers and snowboarders slide down the mountain like frozen peas down a steep hill. Occasionally they will crash and the first aid crew will come out to rescue them. Their sliding implements kick up particles that contribute to the cool smell of snow dust in the air. In winter the chairlift has fully enclosed heated cabins attached for about one third of its chairs. Back at the base area the aroma of hot chips can be smelled, covered with too much tomato sauce and salt they crunch in your mouth like femurs in a hydraulic press. It is cold in winter*, the chill of the frigid air bites against exposed skin. Many ski lessons are held in the winter, all the way from screaming infants who can barely walk to pros who can do back flips without breaking a sweat. most of the small kids have been left with the instructors so the parents can finally have a day off skiing. Late at night, after all the people have left the groomer will come out to re – smooth the snow so that it can be skied on again.

In summer, the glad wrap snow has been fully replaced by the chocolate coloured tussocks and sharp, craggy rock. Most colours in the landscape are quite dull in the summer.  The sound of the chairlift is still there but the ski noises are now the sound of bikes, like the sound of a large volume of pieces of play – doh being thrown against a wall, barreling down the hill with copious amounts of speed. You can’t get chips now, the “restaurant” that served then has been closed. You can still get burgers though their flavor is decent. Outside you can smell the perfume of dirt that has been whetted and then ridden through. Riding the chairlift you hear the ka – chunk of the chairs passing over the rollers. The chairlift no longer has hated cabins but now just has metal bench seats for you to sit on. The high pitched whistle of the wind can be heard on windy days. Also in the summer the mountain opens up the mountain carts and their respective tracks, these deadly tri – wheeled monstrosities zoom down the hill like out of control freight trains , ready to remove someones legs at a moment’s notice. It is slightly less cold in summer, but still quite chilly, most people are still wearing at least two layers of clothing. In summer there are no more lessons, most people teach their own kids how to ride. A lot of the employees from the mountain spend most of their summer going round and round in the mountain carts, there is much less for them to do in the summer. Occasionally some trails will be closed for maintenance and then they will go out and re – shape some parts of the track that have been worn away by the incessant use. All in all the mountain is pretty good in both summer and winter.

*Citation needed.