Misty Glen Mountain Snow Bunny Hop

Standard

glen_0002.jpg

Source: Brian Eddington (2004): Out Of Bounds: The Glen Mountain Ski Story. Price-Patterson Ltd.

 

A Snow Bunny was once considered a young woman that went to the mountains to wear cute ski clothes, drink hot chocolate, and supposedly hit on the hot ski patrol boys.  I was never any good at anything that involved the outdoors and when I saw pictures of Glen Mountain today, my old Snow Bunny dreams all came back to me. I  kept thinking back to a time when visions of faux fur boots and wearing a Mod Snow Bunny white fur hat with “big pom pom balls” was la piece de resistance.

I had visited *Glen Mountain a few times in my teenage years, yet today I’m still not sure why I even considered going there. However, I do remember going on a Cowansville High School field trip, and another outing with my friend Debbie Roffey’s family. I had no idea what to expect from Glen Mountain, I really didn’t. There are photographs in the Brome County Historical Society archives that show a few trees and fields of grazing cattle at the foot of the mountain– but none of these photos were the reality of what that mountain really was.

I was, nor have even been a skier, and that beginner slope was downright scary (unless I was on a toboggan) and I really tried to learn to snowplow on the bunny hill. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t even do that, so I spent most of my time in the chalet looking at that big 1,000 ft. vertical drop staring back at me through the front door windows.

 

il_570xN.274205710.jpg

 

I remember seriously debating about taking a journey on one of the two T-Bars that went up  to mid-station and the other from mid to the top. Every hour I stood in line, and when the time came for me to go up I  muttered something about needing something from the ski shop and went back to the chalet.

Word in the valley was that a blizzard of action and an avalanche of fun  would be available to anyone who aspired to be a Glen Mountain snow bunny. Seventeen Magazine insisted that the best way to hunt “a keeper” was on skis–although at age 14 I would have been content with a first kiss while some young chap tied up the bindings on my skis.

They say that skis are the ultimate transportation to freedom. I beg to differ, and that was another issue that drove me crazy.  Debbie had these spiffy Rossignol skis while mine were a pair my Dad picked up at the Canadian Tire store in Cowansville. I immediately blamed my lack of expertise on those skis, but even when the  mountain lights came on at the end of the day I still hadn’t made it up to the top–or the middle. Each time I glanced out the door of the chalet I visioned myself coming down that hill at a 100 miles an hour screaming “where are the brakes?” Nothing like healthful outdoor exercise at 10 below when your nose is running and your face is full of fear.

 

glen_0001.jpg

 

Source: Brian Eddington (2004): Out Of Bounds: The Glen Mountain Ski Story. Price-Patterson Ltd.

 

When I got home from those ski trips my friends asked if I had a good time.  But, when it comes to skiing, there is a difference in what you think it’s going to be like, and what it’s really like, and what you are going to tell your friends. I never did go back to Glen Mountain after the ski trip with the Roffeys. Instead I used those Canadian Tire Skis on the slight downhill of Miltimore Road in Bromont.

Each time I would go down the snow covered dirt road I would scream at neighbour Linda Avery that Nancy Green had nothing on me. I also concocted a story about breaking my leg skiing to anyone that asked me to go on a ski trip with them. For decades I have lied through my teeth and stuck to the story and today I am finally going to come clean.

It was a lie-yes I admit it was a lie, to keep safety first for *Linda and trust me I  will have no regrets about this tomorrow. Bottom line is that Facebook and Twitter never existed then so the world never found out– until today.  Now it just doesn’t matter as most people can’t decipher whether what I post is for real– or just a cry for help.

Dedicated to my BFF Susie Lindau in Colorado– the Queen of skiing.

historicalnotes

*Mont Glen, which first opened in 1960 and boasts a 350-metre vertical drop—higher than every hill in the Laurentians except Tremblant—had hard times through the 1990s because it lacks snow-making equipment and is heavily dependent on the snow gods to deliver fluffy white flakes all season long.

But repeated seasons of poor snowfall and competition from neighbouring resorts caused the business to deteriorate in the 1990s. It finally closed in 2004. Lifts did run again for a few weekend a few years ago and the current owner of the property had hopes to transform it into a Private Ski Club, but that plan fell through in 2010 due to insurance cost.

*Linda Knight Seccaspina never did ski again.

$_57 (42).JPG

$_57 (43).JPG

Related reading:

Monday Mad Addict’s Attic : Glen Mountain – In the Heart of the Beautiful Eastern Townships

 

Come and visit the Lanark County Genealogical Society Facebook page– what’s there? Cool old photos–and lots of things interesting to read.

Information where you can buy all Linda Seccaspina’s books-You can also read Linda in Hometown News

 

Advertisements

About lindaseccaspina

Linda Knight Seccaspina was born in Cowansville, Quebec about the same time as the wheel was invented and the first time she realized she could tell a tale was when she got caught passing her smutty stories around in Grade 7 at CHS by Mrs. Blinn. When Derek "Wheels" Wheeler from Degrassi Jr. High died in 2010, Linda wrote her own obituary. Some people said she should think about a career in writing obituaries. Before she laid her fingers to a keyboard, Linda owned the eclectic store Flash Cadilac and Savannah Devilles in Ottawa from 1976-1996. After writing for years about things that she cared about or pissed her off she finally found her calling. Is it sex drugs and rock n' roll you might ask? No, it is history. Seeing that her very first boyfriend in Grade 5 (who she won a Twist contest with in the 60s) is the head of the Brome Misissiquoi Historical Society and also specializes in local history back in Quebec, she finds that quite funny. She writes every single day and is also a columnist for Hometown News and Screamin's Mamas. She is a volunteer for the Carleton Place and Beckwith Heritage Museum, an admin for the Lanark County Genealogical Society Facebook page, and a local guest speaker. She has been now labelled an historian by the locals which in her mind is wrong. You see she will never be like the iconic local Lanark County historian Howard Morton Brown, nor like famed local writer Mary Cook. She proudly calls herself The National Enquirer Historical writer of Lanark County, and that she can live with. Linda has been called the most stubborn woman in Lanark County, and has requested her ashes to be distributed in any Casino parking lot as close to any Wheel of Fortune machine as you can get. But since she wrote her obituary, most people assume she's already dead. Linda has published six books, "Menopausal Woman From the Corn," "Cowansville High Misremembered," "Naked Yoga, Twinkies and Celebrities," "Cancer Calls Collect," "The Tilted Kilt-Vintage Whispers of Carleton Place," and "Flashbacks of Little Miss Flash Cadilac." All are available at Amazon in paperback and Kindle. Linda's books are for sale on Amazon or at Wisteria · 62 Bridge Street · Carleton Place, Ottawa, Canada, and at the Carleton Place and Beckwith Heritage Museum · 267 Edmund Street · Carleton Place, Ottawa, Canada--Appleton Museum-Mississippi Textile Mill and Mill Street Books and Heritage House Museum and The Artists Loft in Smith Falls.

4 responses »

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s