Gabrielle Plonka, the Whitehorse Star’s political reporter, represented the Yukon at the 2020 Scotties Tournament of Hearts in Moose Jaw, Sask. Her colleagues at the paper are all extremely proud of her, so here she is reflecting on her experience. This first appeared in HeartChart - a daily newsletter about the goings on of the tournament.

I remember, vividly, attending my first Scotties as a spectator in 2009 to watch Stefanie Lawton and Jennifer Jones compete in the playoffs. I was fourteen years old, in my first year of competitive junior curling, and completely starstruck.

Eleven years later, I arrived in Moose Jaw this week to throw second stones for Team Yukon. I shook hands with my heroes and, every time I stepped into the hack, repeated my mantra: “One rock at a time. Calm foot.”

That meant keeping my focus narrow, and not driving my slider foot out of the hack too quickly. Stepping onto the Scotties stage is an emotional experience, and an important part of the game is channelling those emotions appropriately. As a rookie, I was determined nerves wouldn’t best me. I would play every game with a calm mind, and a calm foot.

It was an incredible experience to share the ice this week with so many passionate athletes.

The love and devotion to the sport is tangible on the ice and in the stands. The ice was quick and consistent, and I want to give thanks to the crew of ice technicians who curated it to such a high level.

I also want to give thanks to the amazing army of volunteers, who were enthusiastic and kind. They made this event a joy to participate in.

Playing for a northern team provides an experience that is unique to the majority. The isolation of the Yukon challenged us to prepare for the Scotties within our bubble. We are indebted to the tight-knit Whitehorse curling community for the support they provided us this season. Kimberly Tuor and I were stepping onto the national stage for the first time, while our veteran teammates, Hailey Birnie and Chelsea Duncan, have appeared at the Scotties multiple times between them.

Even though we weren’t able to pull off a win, each of my teammates made great shots and we played close ends. We found ourselves on the wrong side of the inch a few times, moving us to prioritize communication as the week progressed. We got a little better every game and I’m proud of my teammates, who brought their whole hearts to every single end.

Our coach, Lindsay Moldowan, was an incredible guide and source of support, and we are leaving this event better curlers thanks to her. I feel incredibly blessed to play on this team of strong, kind and passionate women, who were a constant source of inspiration to me this week.

Playing my first Scotties in Moose Jaw was a particularly special experience, as I come from Saskatchewan curling roots.

In the 1970’s, my grandfather, Joe Plonka, curled in Moose Jaw twice a week with his coworkers from the credit union. I grew up hearing about Grandpa Joe playing legends like Ed Lukowich and Paul Gowsell. My grandpa passed away in 2018, and I met a few volunteers this week who remembered him, and I treasured hearing those stories.

My dad, John Plonka, started curling in Chaplin in 1976— the year the town couldn’t field a hockey team, but got artificial ice in the two-sheet curling rink. Nearly three decades later, he strapped his six-year-old daughter into white shoes and a bicycle helmet and sent her onto the ice for the first time. I have, like the generations preceding me, spent most of my life at the curling club.

When I was sixteen, I lost a qualifying game at the B.C. juvenile provincials, and Grandpa Joe found me tearing up in the parking lot after the game.

“What, do you think this is the hardest game you’ll ever lose?” He asked. “You’ll lose way worse games than this one!”

He was right, of course. This week, our team suffered some tough losses that reminded me of Grandpa Joe’s tough love. Taking losses in stride is an important aspect of the sport.

There are always more games to play.

Many of us in the Scotties arena come from a long line of curlers. We play not only for ourselves, but for the generations before us, who spent countless hours on the ice as players, coaches and our biggest fans. We owe everything to them.