We Met On a Ski Hill

And neither of us was looking for love.

As a full-time traveling couple, I have been thinking lately about writing a bit about our relationship. As you can imagine, we don’t have a conventional relationship really. We are actually with each other for 24 hours of the day, 7 days per week, which isn’t normal for most couples. In fact, in the past 4+ years of full-time travel, we have only been apart for 5 days, and that was all at once.

My original idea was to write about how we make it as a couple with this sort of lifestyle. I did start the article, but it hasn’t formulated itself yet and is still being created in my brain. In the meantime, I read The Sober Vegan Yogi’s article:

It got me thinking that maybe others would be interested in how Chris and I met as well. So yeah, here we are.

How Did We Meet?

We met on a ski hill.

My roommate, at the time, was a volunteer ski patroller over on Mt. Washington. It’s a medium-sized ski hill located on Vancouver Island, Canada, about an hour's ferry ride away from where I was living on the mainland, in Powell River.

She had sadly lost her husband in a tragic mountaineering accident a couple of years earlier, and I had lost my marriage a little over a year before. In that time, I had bought my own house and had asked her to move in with me and rent a room, in order to share the monthly mortgage payment. She had been living alone for the first time in her adult life, and she was having a hard time with it.

She also had really only had one major relationship in her life, so we both were navigating this new world of being single together. We were the same age, both 36, and we were both a little awkward about trying to find a new relationship.

I for sure didn’t feel ready.

However, she had started dating one of the other ski patrollers on the mountain, and she went over there most weekends to do her volunteer hours, hang out with the crew, and see her new man.

This weekend, in particular, was St. Patricks Day weekend and the volunteer patrol was having a big party. She asked me if I wanted to come along.

Even though I had grown up skiing in the Canadian Rockies, I had not skied in a few years. The access to the hill was a factor, plus the expense of getting there. It really was just not an activity that I did anymore at that point.

“You should come,” she said, “they really are a fun crew.”

She was right, I needed some fun in my life and it would be good to hit the slopes again after such a long time.

The ‘volly patrol’, as they are affectionately referred to, really have a sweet deal on the mountain. They have their very own ski-in/ski-out chalet complete with its own kitchen, deck, bar-b-que, bedrooms, bunks, showers, ski storage, tech shop, lockers…….you name it.

They have a minimum that they need to volunteer each month to maintain their benefits, but they can do more if they want to and will earn free ski passes that they can then give to their friends and family. Which is how I got mine from Christie.

Chris was one of the ski bums that had basically been living at the hill for the winter because he was laid off from his summer landscaping job and was also collecting Employment Insurance (a very nice bonus of employment that many seasonal workers enjoy in Canada).

A few of them called themselves the EI (employment insurance) ski team!

While he continued to pay his rent at his home that he rented with a friend in the valley below, he spent most of his time on the mountain skiing and earning passes to give to friends. He also had designed a volunteer ski patrol logo and had some stickers made that he was selling to make some extra money.

His stickers were plastered all over the mountain including on numerous skis, helmets, and people's vehicles.

I spotted him immediately upon arrival. He was sitting at the dining table and he had his back to me. I was initially taken aback by his shaved head, short mohawk, and tattoo carved into his skull. I figured that he was much too much of a bad boy for little ol’ innocent me. His big stature and deep voice were certainly a bit intimidating, to begin with, but as the weekend wore on, I would realize that this isn’t really who he is.

A group of us hung out in the chalet for a while, just chatting and carrying on, then decided to head down to the ski hill bar. It was March 16th and a Saturday night. While it wasn’t technically St. Patricks Day, this is the night that the bar was celebrating.

Because it was cold out, and I was wearing too little clothing to be on a ski hill anyways, Chris was helping me to keep warm by blocking the cold wind that was blowing. He did this by walking behind me and opening up his jacket full width. It did help to an extent.

I also noticed the chivalrous move, with interest.

As the evening wore on we danced and chatted. Another patroller who was about 30 years older than me, and married I might add, kept telling me that I was beautiful and had nice legs. He was a funny old guy and he wasn’t really trying to hit on me, he was just being silly.

But then it was Chris whispering to me, “You ARE beautiful, you know. And you do have really nice legs.”

I laughed and told him to stop it. “Don’t tell me I am beautiful,” I said, “I will fall in love with you.”

I will say that it had been a REALLY long time since somebody had told me that I was beautiful, and it did feel nice. But I hadn’t gone to Mt. Washington to find a boyfriend, and I wasn’t even sure if I was ready to date yet. I still felt like I was recovering from my marriage and men weren’t quite on my radar. I was also taken aback a bit as he could have had his pick of women in the bar that night, many of which were obviously into him on the dance floor.

We all had fun at the bar, and when it closed we stumbled back to the chalet to continue the party. We all sat around in the kitchen, played music, and hung out. Chris was constantly on the go and was cooking up all sorts of food for all of us, as the night wore on.

I did note that it was nice to see him in the kitchen.

The next morning I awoke in my bunk and made my way downstairs. Chris had told me the night before that he had the day off from volunteering and he could show me around the mountain for the day if I was interested. I had only been to Mt. Washington once before and really didn’t know the mountain well.

He promised to be my trusty tour guide.

My roommate was heading out to do her volunteer patrol shift, and the last thing she told me was that Chris made the best breakfasts and that I was in for a treat.

However, when Chris woke up he was not in good shape. He admitted that he hadn’t been that hung-over in quite some time.

We lazed around the chalet for a bit then I finally got up and made us some food. We had a day of skiing to do, and I didn’t want to waste it.

Admittedly, Chris really didn’t feel like skiing. He was amazed at how terrible he felt, but he persevered, probably for my sake. We did a few runs and then headed to the hill lodge for lunch. We talked about many things throughout the day, and of course, I was interested to know if he was in a relationship.

He told me that he was getting over an emotionally abusive relationship that had ended at Christmas. Still a pretty fresh break-up, I noted.

We had a pretty good day and made the most of it. He showed me all of the different slopes and helped me to get better acquainted with the mountain. He was actually leaving at the end of the day because he had gotten a temporary job with a construction company for a few months. Yes, his fun and carefree winter was about to come to an end. As my roommate was volunteering the next day as well, I would be left to ski on my own and find my own way around the hill.

We went back to the volly lodge at the end of the day. We hugged goodbye and I thanked him for being my tour guide. We exchanged numbers and he told me that the next time I came back to the island, we should hang out. I agreed.

When I caught up with my roommate that evening, she asked me how my day was, but mostly wanted to know if I had enjoyed breakfast. I told her that he was too hungover to cook, and she was shocked.

“Wow, I’ve never seen that happen before.” She said.

The next morning I woke up and donned my gear. I headed up the first lift, took a run, and realized immediately that I had gone the wrong way. There was one run where if you went down it, you had to take another chair to get all the way to the top. I knew that that chair wasn’t open yet, and I knew I had goofed. Halfway down the slope, I started trying to cut across the mountain by way of the trees. It really wasn’t smart to continue going down.

Exasperated, I sat in the snow and decided to text Chris.

You won’t believe this but I got lost already.

I will admit that I WAS playing the helpless female role, even just a little bit.

I miss my tour guide.

He replied;

Yeah, I sure wish I was up there instead of down here.

I managed to make it through the rest of the day. But at about 2:00 I realized that the hill closed at 3:00 pm, and my ferry back to Powell River wasn’t until 7:20 pm.

As Chris lived in the town close to the ferry terminal, I wondered if he had some time to hang out more before I left.

I sent him another text.

By now I was getting nervous. Was he going to think I was annoying? Too forward? Too needy?

I started to realize that I wanted to get to know him a little better, but I didn’t want to scare him off.

I had no idea how all of this worked, I had been in the same relationship for the past 13 years, since my early 20s. I don’t even know if I knew how dating worked in my twenties, let alone in my mid-thirties.

He texted back;

Yeah, that sounds good, I get off work at 4:00. Meet me at my house.

His house!????? I had expected that we would meet at a coffee shop or a bar. Maybe go for a walk? I barely knew him. Was it safe to go to his house?

Now I was getting nervous for many different reasons.

I managed to find my way around the mountain for the rest of the day, then made my way down the hill at closing time. I found his house, then sat outside. I was so nervous and the only way I could think of to calm my nerves down was to drink my last cider that was in the back seat. (Ha, I can hear words of wisdom from both Sara Burdick and The Sober Vegan Yogi playing in my ears right now!)

I cracked it and went to knock on the door.

He answered it right away and had his jacket on ready to head out. I marched through the door, not knowing how to behave or what to say. I felt like a high school kid with a crush. It’s even a bit embarrassing to think back on it now.

“I was thinking that we could go and get a coffee and walk on the beach.” He said.

“Oh, coffee. Yeah, um, that sounds great.” I stammered as I looked down at my cider feeling foolish.

The first date… I guess!?

We got in my vehicle and headed off. As he suggested, we went and got coffee, I insisted on paying for my own, foolishly (always the capable female), then we headed to the beach. We walked along and laughed and chatted for a while. I recalled my helpless incident on the mountain and reiterated that I was lost without my tour guide (insert eye roll.)

As my ferry departure time was nearing, I drove him back to his house and walked him inside. I told him that I had had a nice time hanging out with him, and I hoped that we could do it again soon.

He agreed. We embraced in a hug, and then he did the unthinkable. He kissed me on the cheek! I’m sure I turned 50 shades of red, giggled, and then quickly headed out the door.

His charms had worked, I was smitten!

I made my way to the ferry, drove on, headed up to the passenger area, and sat there with the dumbest grin on my face. My cheek was still burning where he had kissed me, and I suddenly realized that I really wanted to see him again.

I sent him a message.

I made it on the ferry. Thank you again, I really had a great time hanging out with you.

So did I

he replied.

I’m pretty sure that I could feel that kiss on my cheek well into the next day. I was so excited about all of this. I just didn’t know how to act or how to behave appropriately.

I can’t remember now who texted first, but we started a dialogue that week that turned into something else. Finally, on Thursday, I asked him to come over to Powell River for the weekend.

He didn’t have much money at the time, as he had just started his new job, but he was able to get an advance from his boss, and he managed to make the trip.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

Moving In

A couple of months later, he was pretty much moved over to Powell River, and by August we had cleared out all of his belongings on the island and had put them in my house.

It was certainly official when he moved his cat in and brought his potted plants over that he had been carting around for 7 years through various moves.

Nine Years Later

It’s so hard to believe that it has been nine years now, but here we are. We have been on the road together for almost 5 years.

Together, together.

We talk once in a while about what would happen if we broke up, and then we both laugh it off. We know that isn’t going to happen, we know that we are in it for the long haul.

Thanks for taking the time to read about how we met. It’s a fun story to reflect on, especially now that we are this far down the road. We both know how lucky we are to have found the love that we have, and we don’t take it for granted one iota.

We are each other’s best friends, first and foremost, and for that we are both very thankful.

We have no idea what is around the next corner for us, and could never predict what life will throw at us down the road, but we are in it together, that much we know for sure.

Maybe now that this article is out of the way, I can finish the other one that focuses more on our nomadic life together. We will see what transpires.

I send loving and happy vibes out to you all!

xo Jill

Hi there, we are 2 Canadians, Jill and Chris from Artistic Voyages. We have been nomadic since 2017 living in numerous different countries, and experiencing the life and diversity of our planet on the ground and firsthand. We have now been on the African continent for over 2 years!

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