I’ve spent most of January in the small town of Nelson in BC
The idea was to downhill ski at the local resort, Whitewater and overdose on deep powder snow. The resort is nestled under the magnificent Mount Ymir (the peak is at about 2400 metres for those who wanted to know). After a stunning powdery three-day start ski-touring at Stagleap park near Salmo, we had to adjust the schedule to accommodate the sad event of less than 20 cm of snow in three weeks. The locals say it is the driest January ever and of course last year it “puked snow” for the whole season.
So I did more Nordic skate skiing including a full moon night ski. This is easier on my knees and better for my heart. I enjoyed the eclectic offerings of our new hometown – the recreation centre for yoga and swims, independent restaurants, micro breweries, the art gallery and scenic mountain drives to the hot springs at Ainsworth and the village of Kaslo. In Castlegar, on the way to Red Mountain at Rossland – known to most of my generation as the home of 1968 Olympic skiing champion, Nancy Green, I marvelled at the conflation of the mighty Columbia River and the West arm of Kootenay Lake.
The area is dotted with charming small towns lined red-brick and wooden slatted buildings from the turn of the previous century when gold, silver and logging booms fuelled the economy and attracted those adventuring Norwegians and other speculating pioneers to the lands of the Syilx and Sinixt peoples.
The younger residents of Nelson vaguely adhere to a local uniform that features those Tasmanian all-weather boots, vanity toques that are worn indoors, flannel plaid shirts, jeans, felted slippers and cosy wool socks. There is a daily practice of acceptance of the gender continuum and equity. My hatha yoga class is low on brand-name yoga wear and high on diversity.
Meanwhile, I nurtured my seasonal obsession with Open Tennis events by streaming too many Australian Open videos. I mourned the defeat of my idol Roger Federer to the upcoming Greek star, Tsitsipas. I marvelled at the transformation of Raonic’s game by Ivan Lendl.
I watched Serena Williams performing with supreme athleticism, dignity and grace as she continues to shoulder the burden of the various prejudices against her gender, the state of motherhood, her race and body type. Naomi Osaka, no the world’s number one is standing on those shoulders. My reading was reduced to scanning tennis writing from all sources and listening to live, radio reporting of the games.
I struggled to finish Esi Edugyan’s book, Half-Blood Blues but managed to crack open her latest, Washington Black. I couldn’t settle down to read anything else. My own writing stalled during an attempt at a magical realism piece much longer than the short story length I am comfortable with. I choked with the revisions and a deadline for a non-fiction sports piece. Yes, I am concentration challenged this month. I need to keep checking the tennis scores.
I have taken the following remedial steps.
Inspired by the recent death of Mary Oliver the poet whose work I was introduced to last year, I have decided that I want to stay amazed and need more poetry in my life. I have signed up for Poem Daily.
I have scoured the AO tennis writing for energizing verbs to apply to my writing as recommended by Joe Moran whom I have previously written about. I have converted this list into an inspirational graphic to celebrate all of writing, reading and tennis. Please read David Foster Wallace on Roger Federer in the link above for further inspiration for both writing and tennis. Thanks to