Mount Washington is the major skiing resort on Vancouver Island. We stayed there for three days over Christmas. I wore my cowboy boots every day. My boots and I have come a long way.
There’s wasn’t enough snowfall for the skiing runs to open, but the empty lot next to our chalet was perfect for sledding. The neighbours had even set up a track. I spent most of my time outside in the snow. Whenever I was inside, I was usually reading a novel I found in the kids bookshelf. It was an academic thriller: The Rule of Four. It’s about Princeton students solving the complex puzzles in and of an ancient text. Whenever I’m on holiday, I always manage to find a book and finish it in two or three days.
Christmas was great. Had the usual celebrations of presents and food. Even though I was the only one between ten and thirty, I still had fun and enjoyed the company of the family we don’t get to see very often. It didn’t really snow on the day, but I still count it as a white Christmas.
One night they put on fireworks. I went out on my own to catch them. As I’m walking through the snow towards the lodge, the fireworks started. So I cut through the trees, over a creek and between chalets. The bright red, green, yellow, and blue lit up the fog in the sky. The sound echoed out over the mountain side. Then silence for a moment, before the next one. I came up to the lodge and joined the crowd.
Afterwards, I made my way back, taking the long way around. I wandered through the village of mostly empty chalets. On one of the walking trails, there was a family sized snowball fight in progress. They stopped to let me pass, even though I insisted they wouldn’t hit me. As soon as I returned to the chalet, I wrote everything down in my diary immediately.
Today we’re headed down to Victoria to see the other cousins. It’s not long now before I make my way to Seattle!