Life is About Experiences – The Beauty of a Chilean Sunrise

My heart rate quickened as I ran up the hill, and the awareness of my quads and hamstrings burning with each step seemed to be draining my energy two times faster than anything else. It was still dark, and the only thing lighting the snow submerged path was the faint glow of the partially hidden stars overhead. I squinted, trying to shield my eyes from the sharp ice fragments flying amidst the glacial wind. The sound of stray dogs barking loudly in the distance seemed to surround me and my ski racing team, making it hard to recognize the source. That morning, in the snowy weather, my visual range was limited to about 3 meters, rendering it impossible to see the big blue sign I’d seen on the way to our condo the previous day. On it was written “Welcome to La Parva Ski Resort” in Spanish. Now that the entire thing was hidden under a thick layer of snow, I couldn’t read it at all. My eyes went to the top of the hill, where charming little houses and chalets lined the street; it seemed like a nice place to live. As we made our way further up, my lungs increasingly yearned for oxygen. I looked around, and when I saw the rest of my ski team continuing alongside me, I knew I would not be able to provide them with it until after warmup.

The thin air was the worst we’d ever had to deal with, as the resorts we’d been to in the past for races or other training camps stood nowhere near eleven thousand feet. I brought my attention to the big dog (who we later named Antonio) scampering along beside our group, to distract myself from my struggle to breathe sufficiently. I couldn’t quite tell which breed he was. Maybe a cross between a yellow lab and a pit bull…? He was very friendly. I checked my watch, and saw that it was 6:45 am, which meant 2:45 am Vancouver time. In that moment, the tiredness and the cold really started to get to me, making uneasy thoughts on how I would be able to survive two weeks of intense high-altitude training take over.

After the warmup run, I got ready for my first training session. For breakfast, I had two soft boiled eggs, a slice of bread, some muesli, and a peach. When I was done, I put on my snow pants, boots, jacket, helmet, goggles, & gloves. Although powder skiing days require a lot less equipment (no shin guards, arm guards, pole guards, or speed suit) and are generally pretty fun, I was disappointed that I wouldn’t get to ski gates until the next day. Nevertheless, I grabbed my skis & poles and headed for the hill, keen to explore the mountain with my team.

When we arrived at the base of the first t-bar, I noticed that it wasn’t so dark anymore, and could see sunlight peeking out from beyond the horizon: the sun was starting to rise. Everyone took pictures, unaware that this was just the beginning, and that this faint light would later turn into a dazzling show of colours. We loaded the lift, taking in our surroundings on the way up: the stray dogs trotting behind us, the slight shimmer of the snow, the smell of fresh mountain air… Everything was so different from home, and I liked it.

I’d found out before arriving in La Parva that there were 5 lifts to take to get to the very top of the mountain, but I never thought the ride up would be so fascinating in so many ways. We were able to see the lift systems and how they worked (the t-b bar and chairlift setups there are very peculiar compared to what I’m used to seeing in the local mountains), the different species of birds and animals, the runs we would be training on, and more. I found myself enjoying the culture shock!

It took close to half an hour to get to the very top of the mountain, but that was all right because when we did, the sight was breathtaking. We could see everything, from the dogs a few feet below us to even the most far away mountains. Bright, fluorescent pink and orange lights stretched across the sky, reflecting off the few clouds leftover from the snowfall. The ones left untouched by the colours gave off a dark blueish hue, adding to the contrast of the spectacle. Far below them was the city of Santiago, emitting a dim light on the now-sunlit sky. I took out my phone to take some pictures, but it was useless: nothing would be able to capture the beauty of what was in front of me. I guess it was just one of those things that you had to be there for in order to fully understand.

I looked down at Antonio who had somehow ended up lying on the front of my skis, and then glanced back at the sunrise. It was then that my doubt vanished and I knew: no matter how tough things got while I was up there, I would be able to push through it. I’d spent my summer training and preparing for it, and my body would adjust to the altitude. But most importantly, I had welcoming teammates to talk to, friendly dogs to pet, and an incredible sunrise to witness every morning.

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