Tales from the MOUNTAIN

STORY BY FRANCOIS BUYS ’25 (LONSDALE’S)

PHOTOGRAPHY BY ARDEN GILL

IT IS SOMEWHAT INCREDIBLE THAT SHAWNIGAN IS CELEBRATING SKI WEEK’S 50TH ANNIVERSARY, AND EVEN MORE SO THAT I HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO PARTICIPATE SO THOROUGHLY IN MY FIRST YEAR AT THE SCHOOL.

My name is Francois Buys; I am the son of two South African immigrants, and above all, I am a proud skier. Saying that I have figuratively lived and breathed the slopes for much of my life would be an understatement. From the logging town of Quesnel, British Columbia, my family and I would traverse through the acres of snowy countryside to reach Troll Ski Resort, a secluded paradise of almost familial friends, avid ski enthusiasts, and Australian lift attendants.

From the very introduction of my skis on Manning Park Resort’s terrain, I felt right at home. However, my passion for the mountain did not just dwell on the hill; instead, I found new life within the Shawnigan community. Ski Week is so much more than just a week away from school. Ski Week is the lifelong memories you form with people from all walks of life. Ski Week is the dramas you’ll tell your grandchildren about. Ski Week is campfire stories and karaoke nights. But more than this, Ski Week is a ton of fun.

To be completely honest, Ski Week did not seem so appealing the first time I heard about it. I was strongly against the idea of wasting a week at some boring ski hill when I would much rather be at home within the comforting embrace of friends and family. This being said, after lots of persuasion from House Directors, School staff, and friends, I decided to take the plunge and spend the week at Manning Park. One of the most assertive voices during my bargaining sessions was that of Jakob. Jakob ended up being one of two roommates I would spend the entire week with. He is somewhat remarkable, and between his blunt sense of humour and indecipherable dialect of English lies a true gem of a friend.

We sat together on the bus to Manning Park, and during the seemingly never-ending journey, I found comfort within our shared laughter and roadside conversations. Jakob was a single-plank kind of guy, and I was the direct opposite, a skiing aficionado. So, naturally, my tips and tricks on the mountain were about as helpful as you might expect. Jakob had only been snowboarding a few times, and never on Manning Park’s slopes. Despite the falls, the waiting, and the struggling to dismount from the chairlift, it was one of the most enjoyably satisfying experiences to finally achieve the end of a run.

Interestingly, Ski Week hosts some of the school year’s most creative and exciting inter-House events, ones that I would never have had the opportunity to experience had I still attended school in Quesnel. I did my best to participate in as many as humanly possible, pushing my mental capacity to new lengths I had previously thought impossible.

Now, being an avid skier does not necessarily translate to all skiing disciplines. For instance, classic downhill skiing usually helps when trying something like its water-based counterpart. However, this was painfully not the case when I dove headfirst into what I thought was a very relaxed crosscountry skiing event. It turns out that downhill skiing does absolutely nothing to prepare you for the endless bodily strain found during the said crossing of the country. I initially went into the event with my head held high, pompously chirping to my friends about how I was going to leave them in the dust. But, after covering only a single kilometre in 35 minutes, my hopes and dreams of becoming an Olympic cross-country skier were promptly obliterated.

I had thought that the experience had battered me enough, so I persistently pushed forward through the icy glades. I was making great haste, but my legs grew ever more tired with every stride.

“Seven more kilometres to go!” rang out Mr. Doig’s voice. He had been standing on the sidelines, likely having cheered on thousands of others before I finally made my way past him.

It was at this point where I began to think it would have been better for me to just begin a new life in the wilderness and befriend some squirrels whilst I survived amongst the Manning Park cross-country trails. Defeated, I retired back to my cabin after much difficulty. Finishing 66th overall, I had made only marginal progress towards helping Lonsdale’s secure interHouse victory.

Over the week, we were exposed to other incredibly fun and exciting events. Most notably for me, however, has to be the karaoke night. Typically, karaoke is this backburner event that nobody pays any attention to. This is the direct opposite of what I felt.

I and another classmate, JD, valiantly put our social reputations on the line in order to sing on behalf of Lonsdale’s House. We endured many other performances before finally getting the chance to prove ourselves, and it was very clear that our nerves were catching up to us. I could barely stand, let alone hold the microphone to sing. Suddenly, a room of maybe 200 people had swelled up into what felt like a concert hall bursting at the seams with streams of people. I felt like Freddie Mercury, or maybe even Elvis, only way less cool, and much, much more anxious. Our ballad began, and we began singing none other than Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline.”

Call it a cliché, but we had an absolute blast singing in front of everybody. The judging panel was feeling the emotions, and the case was the same amongst the crowd. A sea of phone flashlights and swaying arms only encouraged us to yell the lyrics louder. Afterward, a few pats on the back from Housemates and a thumbs-up from our House Director served as our personal trophy (although we would later end up winning the event in our subcategory, actually gaining our own physical trophy).

This year’s Ski Week was unlike any experience I have had. The schools back home would draw the line at a simple field trip to the local park, or perhaps a nature walk. My introduction to Shawnigan’s brand of field trips is immensely greater than I could have ever imagined, and I am so excited for all of us students to enjoy yet another year at Manning Park in 2024.