Brits on the Piste…

Today you’re just as likely to see university students trying to build a topless human pyramid as following the fall line on a black run. The “Valley Rally” as it’s known, has become a chance for university students to party on the mountain. Silly costumes and alcohol-related antics go hand in hand with skiing and have done so for many years now. But this new breed of student is taking it to a whole new level.

I for one, am not objecting.  A twenty-three-year-old girl deciding to go topless with her friends is fine by me, and unlike the Malaysian authorities, I don’t believe it causes earthquakes.  I do worry about their safety, though, they are in an inhospitable environment, poorly equipped and inebriated.  Sadly hypothermia or worse is a real risk for these kids.  I watch as they head off with people vastly soberer and more mature than themselves for a night of probably one-sided lust.

My advice (for what it is worth) is simple, firstly remember to wear a coat you are on a mountain.  Secondly, stick with your friends and make sure you keep each other safe.

If you’re heading off piste with your kids, hire a guide.

Ski guides have gone through a rigorous training process to ensure they know what to do if things go wrong. Guides (or leaders) live in the region and are incredibly capable skiers, first aiders and survival experts. Sadly I see parents deciding to skip the guides and lead their children into the wilderness.

I find it amusing that someone with a few days of local knowledge and only a few tips found via a search engine decides to take their children off-piste. Using a search engine for life-saving advice without having any experience would be foolish. However, this is happening every school holiday throughout the Alps. Heading out into avalanche zones, with a transceiver but often without a shovel.

It’s these skiers that upset me the most, literally they are saying “please save us, but we won’t save you”.  I find this annoying to say the least, I am lucky and have never had to dig someone out after an avalanche but always carry a shovel and probe when heading off-piste.  I read a worrying statistic if you are not rescued within fifteen minutes then your chance of survival drops by eighty percent.

In short if heading off-piste, especially if you’re responsible for others.  Learn how to use a transceiver, probe and shovel or better still hire an experienced guide.

Silence is golden?

It wasn’t that long ago the only music you would hear on the slopes was the music coming from a radio by the cable car or the background noise from a fellow skiers ear-buds.  Sadly the mountains are becoming infested with noise.  Industrial grade speakers playing DJ sets or bands blasting their take on music to the masses.  I know by this point, you’re probably thinking I’m must be a complete party pooper.  The type of person who spends their evenings in bed reading rather than dancing to the latest pop sensation.  In some ways this is true, I do love apres-ski but believe it shouldn’t kick off until the last lift has stopped.  I come to ski, to escape all of my problems, a chance to be at one with nature, not to bounce along to Tine Tempah.  I do appreciate the works of Mr Tempah but when I’m trying to clear my head, the theme song from Match of The Day is not a lot of help.

Today, I would like the mountains divided, those seeking music turn right and for those looking for a higher purpose, it’s left.  Ski and mountain retreats, a chance to meditate, succumb to the pleasures of fresh powder and be at one with nature.  The right can have the ice, the golden snow and as much music as you need to make your ear drums bleed.  I know where, I will be and so do you if you want to join me.

Ski locks, has it really come to this?

I read an article in Snow Magazine that genuinely upset me.  Ski locks, the thought fellow skiers would intentionally steal another’s skis is perturbing.  It turns out I’ve been lucky and over the last few years thefts from ski resorts have risen.  Given the risk you put others’ at, I’m astounded.  We all know stealing is wrong, but to steal something that could put a fellow human’s life at risk is horrendous.

Like many others, I always saw the ski resort as the last beacon of hope for society, people bonding through common interests and the problems of the real world left in the car park. Most people still leave their problems in the car park but sadly a few idiots are beginning to ruin it for the rest of us.

The only thing I would add is this if you are going to get a ski lock, check out the Burton Cable Lock.

Becoming a Human Piste Map

Ok, so life in a ski resort is not quite the four-month long holiday I had thought when I was sat in a Weatherspoons pub back in a not so smart part of London.  In fact, life in a ski resort has its challenging moments and running away from home, on this scale doesn’t fix things.  Today I have decided to go through my post. My mother, bless her, has been scanning my post and emailing it to me.  I had been putting off this task, justifying it to myself by stating “I’m settling into my new world”.  Newsflash, this hasn’t made it go away.  I open the folder and find only bills and bank statements.  Looking on the upside of this, at least, my mother knows how impoverished I am.  Ski resort life is enriching in so many ways but financially is not one of them.

I’m going through my post folder when I see a scanned letter from the county court service.  I had not looked forward to this day, as I often see the worst in these situations.  Ten minutes passed as I drank a coffee, imagined the worst, I ate the last packet of chocolate buttons and decided, I had to open this email.  The letter stated the original judgement had been set aside meaning I do not owe any money.    I felt slightly foolish and a little sick from the buttons but mostly relieved.  I could finally move on.  The rest of the post was much as expected electricity bills paid via direct debit, a phone bill and bank statements telling me (as if I didn’t already know) how little money I had. So with the weight lifted off of my shoulders and having completed my CBT obligations what to do next?

After a thirty-minute meditation session, my mind was clear.  I would become a ski volunteer.  The role of a ski volunteer is a simple one, helping guests get the most out of their lift pass in return for a free lunch.  I sat on my bed studying the local piste maps, planning routes, noting down lifts and runs, preparing myself for a grilling from the self-appointed volunteer team leader.  I must have gone through every map multiple times and fell asleep with the map still on my bed.  I awoke the next morning to a face full of map and post-it notes everywhere.

I quickly got dressed and headed down to meet Nick, the self-appointed leader.  Nick explained the full extent of my duties over coffee, which I can safely say didn’t take long.  There were two rules; Don’t lose any guests and the second, always go up in pairs.  The first rule was, I thought, obvious.  The second he explained in great detail.  If an accident occurs, one volunteer can stay with the injured and the second volunteer can bring the others safely down the mountain.  With his words of wisdom still being processed, he added, “download the piste map app”.

I stopped for a moment and considered have humans outsourced memorising items to MicroSD cards?  I concluded, the answer was yes.  As humans, we have become reliant on technology in almost every part of our lives and here was another example.  You don’t need to learn the piste map, just download a free app. The application had been carefully designed by Crystal Ski, although some of the features seemed unnecessary, knowing where the other volunteers were on the mountain could save a life.

I led Nick on my carefully planned route and as we returned to the bar, awaited the verdict.  Had I made the grade?  The answer was yes, I was a ski volunteer.

 

King of the Toasties

The ink is now dry on the contracts, and I’m the proud owner of a small shed.  Big deal, I hear you say, but this is no ordinary shed – it’s my shed of dreams.  A few months ago now, I put an offer in on a small hut between a ski lift and a ski rental shop.  This hut sold paninis, although I do like a panini, it wasn’t the obvious choice for food in a cold environment.  After discussing it with friends, I decided on a toastie bar.  Since then I have been quizzing people about toasties, everywhere I go, the hospital, pharmacy, bookshop, party I ask the same question what is your favourite toastie?

I looked at the list and realised there were many, many votes for a Cheese and Ham or Croque Monsieur. Obviously, it won’t be on my menu as an Englishman making a Frenchman’s speciality is too risky for my fledgeling business to bear. I decided to begin again, holding toastie tasting sessions, inviting friends and family over to taste toasties. So drumroll please and the winners are;

In third place; Cheese, Chilli and Onion.
In second place; Cheese and Tomato.
And the winner is; Maple candied bacon, egg with cheese.

Three toasties a business does not make.  I needed to add something else, something hot and comforting and decided upon beans.  The humble baked bean has sustained students throughout university life for generations.  I have a soft spot in my heart for comfort food, and the bean is definitely in there.  Although the bean is amazing in its unadulterated form, I question if people would pay five euros for a small pot and seven euros for a large one.  I quickly decided the answer was probably no and selected additional items to add to the pot.  My Anglo-Indian Chilli-beans were born and wondrous they are too.

So next time you’re in Les Gets, why not pop along for a toastie and some amazing chilli-beans.  As the French would say A bein tot.

Snow is falling and the world seems better.

The snow is falling here in the Alps, on a day like today where else would you want to be?

Treats not Targets – skiing can be fun.

There are many laminated maps of the Portes du Soleil tucked away in chalet draws covered in red Biro ticks. The maps show the runs completed and those left to try. I’m not saying this is necessarily a bad thing but when it comes at the expense of enjoying the view from the mountain, then what is the point?

Alongside this particular map left behind were details about the number of kilometers covered, average speed and wind direction. I accept if you are training for the Olympic games then this data may be of use, but for a weekend skier, it seems unnecessary. Whenever I find a piste map like this it reminds me of the person I used to be; a stats obsessed skier or ski bore was another term used.

The challenge of conquering as many runs as possible soon becomes tedious for others, and my obsession probably affected the enjoyment of friends and family members’ holidays. It began with setting a 06:00hrs alarm to ensure I could get ready and enjoy breakfast before heading down to the first lifts of the day. I would barely stop for lunch and follow a planned route, rushing, never stopping for more than ten minutes, often to cross off a run or take a photo until the last lifts of the day. I guess you could have called me a Ski Nazi.

These days I appreciate the pleasure of skiing. Stopping for coffee and a hot chocolate is no longer a crime punishable by death. Lunch is something that can be enjoyed, not rushed or even worse eaten on a chair lift.  The change in my attitude may mean I ski less but now love skiing more.  No longer do I rush out of bed (except for powder days) and this has meant many more people happily enjoy skiing with me.

Is the cable car a good chat up opportunity?

I woke this morning to see fresh snow falling and rushed to get ready. Walking around the apartment looking for clean clothes, sniffing ski-socks just to check. Finally, I find some, throwing on a t-shirt and getting ready to head out. I couldn’t be happier, almost skipping down to the car.

I jumped into the car and went to start it when it made an awful noise. The car’s engine was cold and needed to warm up, sitting in the drivers seat I waited. I watched the digital clock on the dashboard blink, wishing the numbers to change faster. Eventually, fifteen minutes had passed, the car was warm and demisted enough to head up to the lifts. I had a smile a mile wide and got happier with every foot I climbed.

The road began to change from a ribbon of black asphalt to an off-white mix of snow and slush. Finally, I reached the car park, bounced out of the car and into my ski boots and grabbed my skis from the roof before heading for the cable car. Almost bounding to the lift, I bumped into Victoria.

Victoria was the girl from Tunbridge Wells. She had that amazing girl next door look mixed with the well-lodged plum you’d expect from a British middle-class lady. Bizarrely her now ex-boyfriend had dumped her just before she flew to the Alps, now she’s here talking with me.

I am normally pretty good with heights but today I was a little nervous.  Luckily today I had the perfect distraction and a chance to try out some of my banter, I asked, “I wonder how much this cable car weighs? Enough to break the ice?” she giggled and suggested I needed to do better than that… Undeterred and enjoying the challenge I tried this little gem, “You Know What I Have In Common With This Snow? Ten Inches.” Now laughing she replied “so when we get to the top are you going to carry me down the mountain? Now that you have swept me off my feet.” I quickly realised she’d read the same article as me and was playing along. I have to assume she welcomed the distraction as much as me.

I walked through the warning gate and onto the glacier. The glacier was wrapped in snow, deep and crisp and even. It was magical. I will remember the snow and seeing the trails I left behind for many years to come. Oh, and Victoria, I caught up with her for a drink on the way down.  It’s always better to ski with a friend and even on a powder day, sometimes there are friends.

Happy New Year

Happy new year to all my friends and followers.  Let’s make Twenty sixteen our best yet.