From Heliskiing to Healing: My Love Affair With Movement

Heliskiing in the Bugaboos, British Columbia — I didn’t know then how much these mountains — and movement — would shape me.

Isn’t it funny how, looking back, the dots connect?

When I was 22, I heard about heliskiing for the first time—and I was instantly intrigued. A family friend had worked at a remote luxury lodge in the Canadian mountains, where guests from all over the world came for heliskiing in winter and heli-hiking, climbing, and mountaineering in summer. Coming from Windsor, Ontario—flat as a pancake—this world felt like another planet. Still, something lit up inside me. I became obsessed with landing a summer job there.

Long story short: I did. Two weeks later, I flew to British Columbia, where my love affair with movement really began.

Mountain Biking, Skiing, and the Joy of Learning Something New

That summer, I tried mountain biking for the first time. I bought my own bike, brought it back to Windsor, and rode it up the only hill in town—the landfill. I couldn’t wait to return to the mountains the following year. 

That’s when I decided: I’m going to learn how to ski.

I’d only skied once as a kid on a school trip (it ended in spilled hot chocolate and tears), but I was determined. Ironically, I remembered giving a school speech on “alpine skiing” during the 1988 Winter Olympics—without having a clue what “alpine” meant.

Fast forward almost 20 years, and I was standing in the Bugaboos, birthplace of heliskiing, learning to ski from scratch as an adult. It was hard—most people I skied with had grown up on the slopes. But I loved every minute of it. I fell, I fumbled, I got back up. And soon I was carving turns and keeping up with the guests.

Heliskiing in the Bugaboos, British Columbia — this photo captures the joy of learning to ski as an adult.

 

My Ramedica Balm Was Always in My Pack

Over the next few years, I worked both summer and winter at the lodge, fell deeper in love with mountain biking and skiing, and fully embraced my identity as someone who moves.
Anytime I had a fall on the slopes or came home sore from a long mountain bike ride, I’d rub on our Ramedica Herbal Wonder balm. My dad created it, but it wasn’t just a “family product” — it worked. It was always in my pack.

From the Mountains to Malaysia: A New Chapter in My Movement Journey

When I eventually moved back east and then to Malaysia, mountain sports were no longer part of my life—but my hunger for physical challenge remained. I took up kickboxing, high-intensity interval training, even hiphop and bellydance. I’d been practising yoga since my early twenties, so when I transitioned into teaching Ashtanga—also known as power yoga—it felt like a natural next step. I never loved the gym, but I loved —especially when rhythm and coordination were involved.

Surgery, Setbacks, and Discovering My Love for Walking

So when I needed surgery last year and was told I couldn’t do any of that for 90 days, I panicked.

“What can I do for exercise?” I asked.

“Walk,” the doctor said.

>Walk?

Boring.

But I made a commitment. I ordered a walking pad (Malaysia’s heat and humidity are not kind to long outdoor walks) and started moving.

Healing Through Walking — And the Ritual of the Balm

And you know what? It changed me.

By the time I reached the end of the 90 days, I was walking for 30 minutes at a brisk pace—and loving it. My body felt stronger. My mind felt clearer. I was sweating again, yes—but more than that, I was reconnecting to my body. Trusting it. Listening to it.

Throughout those 90 days of recovery, walking became my anchor. But there were still days my joints ached, or my muscles felt tight from healing. That’s when I’d reach for the balm. Our Ramedica Herbal Wonder Balm was my go-to — not just for relief, but for the>. That little moment of rubbing it on, breathing in the menthol, slowing down… it reminded me I was still healing, and that healing takes presence.

My Love Affair With Movement Continues

Now, even post-recovery, walking is a permanent part of my movement routine. It’s not just what I can do—it’s what I want to do.
Sometimes you just have to slow down to remember who you really are.

✨ Want more gentle ways to reconnect with your body?

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