 Poster: A snowHead
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This post had to be written to preserve for future generations one man’s struggle against the odds, nay indeed titanic battle with himself, ski boots, David (name unchanged to identify the guilty party) and the resort of Sass Fee and everyone in it. Its long, but some demons need to be exorcised....
It was a grey and dank Friday night in downtown Nyon, in the autumn of 2008. Myself and my colleague and landlord, lets just call him “David” were sitting in front of his newly installed but not yet working telly, contemplating whether we could be bothered making the schlep down to the fisherman’s pub for a quiet libation or two, when David piped up with what sounded like the world’s best idea ever – he uttered the fateful phrase “hey mate, let’s go skiing”. ”Skiing?” quibbled I… “but it is October, nowhere will be open, there is no snow, what are you talking about? Also, I’ve never skied before and have a pretty chronic knee injury, surely this is a bad idea?” “No mate, we’ll go to Sass Fee, it’s a glacier mate, it’ll all be open, it’ll be fine”. “But David, I have no equipment, nothing, not even a pair of gloves, surely you need some stuff to ski in?” My protests fell on salted earth, as from the depths of his cave, David found an old pair of gloves and a hat, when paired with my golfing wet gear (basically a shell jacket and bottoms, gortex mind you), and a wolly jumper, I was deemed to be ready. Clearly in no mood to brook any arguments, we flung his ski’s into his trusty BMW and set off. Total elapsed time from commencing conversation about the possibility of skiing, to setting off, roughly 320 seconds.
My first indication that this was possibly not the best thought out plan came 5 minutes in, as we sped down the A1, no need for headlights as our route was perfectly well lit by speed camera flashes…”mate, mate, call Sass Fee, book some rooms, here’s my phone.” Sure enough, his phone had Sass Fee in it, as a contact. Rang Sass Fee – turned out it wasn’t the entire ski resort, just a small hotel in it. Which, unsurprisingly, was full. More surprising was that the hotel owner had a brother who was also a hotel owner. Much hilarity later, we had two rooms for the night. As we sped through the darkening night, my thoughts turned to the following days adventure. Surely I’ll need lessons, I’ve heard that that is important. Also, I’m going to a glacier, I’d heard that those tended to be quite high up. “David, will I be able to book lessons at such short notice, before the season has started, and are there very easy slopes I can go on?” “Mate, it’ll be fine, I promise”. Duly reassured, I dozed as we reached warp speed. The warp drive was working very well, we arrived 30 minutes before we’d decided to leave, impressive stuff. Parking at the outskirts of Sass Fee, the car park was noticeably…empty. Just David, me and the eerie wind….some time passed…..some more time passed…..no pick up from the hotel was possible, so we trudged to Sass Fee central, in search of the hotel belonging to the brother of the hotel owner that David knew. “Crikey, this ski stuff seems heavy” I thought, as I skidded along on the ice/snow/slush, carrying David’s skis....a foretaste of what was to come re the weight of ski equipment and those ill accustomed to humping it around. The rest of the night passed in easy companionship, as we scarfed pizza and beer in roughly 1 slice to 1 beer proportions.
Shortly thereafter, I awoke. Finding myself in a room that seemed to have been recreated from bits of the 1970’s. Everything was brown. The walls were brown, the floor was brown, the bathroom tiles were brown, the bed sheets were ……must have been the nerves. Took me an age to find my socks on the floor, mainly because they were brown…
So breakfast came and went, and duly decked out in my callaway top and bottoms, a wolly beanie and some lovely wolly gloves, we set off in search of ski gear to rent. Culture shock no 1. Ski boots are heavy. Why are they made of such stiff and hard material? Why can’t I get my foot in? Why is the man in the shop laughing? Why is David laughing? Oh, you undo the buckles first, ok. ARRGGH, my ankle won’t move!!! I can’t possibly be expected to walk in these!!! Oh wait, lessons. David said I’d be able to organize lessons, right, shop man will know about that. Shop man provides the phone number of ESS sass fee. ESS sass fee, after 300 rings, answer. I guess the phone diverts to individual people during the off season, as the voice that answered was not that of a man going about his daily grind, unless his daily grind is living like Keith Moon. No lesson was the curt summary of the situation. This clearly required pointing out to my sensei. “David, I can’t get a lesson, what’ll we do?” “Don’t worry mate, I have you covered, I’ll teach you to ski”. “Erm, are you sure? I don’t want to wreck your day….””mate, no worries, I’ll sort you out, I’ve taught plenty of beginners”. OK then.
About 10 years of my life later, we made it to the gondola. The shop was fully 100 metres from the lift, I slipped and slid, dropping skis, gloves, poles…. But all would be fine, the plan was to exit at the first stop of the alpine express I, where there would be easy blue…..oh wait, its not stopping there, no pistes open. Apline express II to Felskinn, that’ll be fine, plenty of…ohhhh not stopping there either..Aplin Metro to Allalin it is so, choice of pistes, Red, or Black. Take your pick.
Upon exiting the Alpin Metro, I was hit with a wall of sensation. Mostly fear, but hypothermia and pain were in there as well. The metro emptied, skiiers swished off, happily hooting and hollering at the crystal snowy expanse that awaited them. I stood there, stabbing my hobbled feet at a pair of bindings that didn’t want to take them. Eventually, by hand, David cranked me into the skis. “Now what”? I enquired, curious as to what my skiing guru had planned. “Erm, ski down mate, like this.” He swooped down 50 metres or so, to where the piste started with a tunnel of snow either side. Gingerly I followed, this was easy. Hang on, how do I stop? Or turn? Fuuuucccccckkkkkkkkkk. Ok, that’s how you stop, you ski into the snowdrift. Seems fine. “Mate, what are you doing? To stop do this” (parallel stops). To turn, do this (parallel turns).” Great, thanks, helpful . Follow tunnel of snow, stopping by smashing into the side every 10 metres. Reverse, aim for the other side, go again. Great. Eventually, the tunnel of terror ends and the piste opens up to a majestic vista of Alp. Gulp. No more snow drifts. However, the first bit was super wide, and not so bad. Follow Mr Myagi across the piste, erm, gingerly. Make two turns that took about 3 minutes each to perform. Mr Myagi decides I can ski. “Mate, I’m just going to do a run, keep doing what you’re doing”.
WHAT? WHAT? PARDON? EXCUSE ME? FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCKK, oh he’s gone, its just me, on my own, on this mountain, now what worked before? Oh yes, skiing sideway till you hit a ….. …. …. …… no snowbank, nothing…..ah, red pole sticking out the ground. Grab on, hold tight. Take deep breaths, mop furrowed brow. Wait. Time passes. Wait some more. More time passes. A noise from above starts to intrude on my consciousness. Ignore noise, can’t be anything to do with me. More noise. Noise starts to sound agitated, agitated noises can be entertaining. Look up. See about 20 people gesticulating wildly at the moron who is holding onto their slalom course gate. Crap Crap Crap Crap Crap. Retreat sheepishly backwards, with no grace or dignity. Fall over, sit on your skis. Wait, it couldn’t be, the embarrassment couldn’t get worse….it does, as the entire Swiss adaptive skiing team skis their slalom course, start delayed by 5 minutes at least by ….erm…me.
First adaptive skier down has just the one ski, just the one leg. He glares at me as he passes, no doubt thinking “what is this MONUMENTAL GOBSHITE doing on this mountain”? Monumental gobshite is thinking the same thing. One by one, the entire group descends, however after skier number one, their gazes turn from rage to ones of pity, as my attempts to stand up again have made it increasingly obvious that in this terrain, I’m the one with the problem.
Make it slowly and painfully over to the other side of the piste. Fall over, as I hit my first powder. Skis release. “Thank Christ”, says I. Decide it’ll be simpler just to walk down the mountain. In 2 metres of powder. At about a 25 degree slope. It isn’t. Several lifetimes and 20 cubic metres of perspiration later, Mr Myagi reappears. “Hey mate, hows it going”? he enquires, glibly. “GET ME DOWN THIS MOUNTAIN NOW”, I demand not unreasonably. “AND I’M NOT SKIING”, I add, again not unreasonably in the circs. “Mate, you’ll have to go down like I’ve seen dads with kids, ski behind me and hold on.” Little did the maestro realize that the person behind in this scenario, with his ski’s outside the others, is the one that does the steering. HA, HA, HA. The sensation of being out of control as we descend, him flailing around, his skiis going over mine, my ski’s blissfully unmoving, was the one saving grace. His increasing embarrassment as we sped towards the restaurant at the base, where Swiss, German, Austrian ski teams were all partaking of their afternoon’s coffee break was simply glorious to behold.
We vowed never to speak of it again.
I lied.
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Obviously A snowHead isn't a real person
Obviously A snowHead isn't a real person
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coddlesangers, 
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Well, the person's real but it's just a made up name, see?
Well, the person's real but it's just a made up name, see?
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You need to Login to know who's really who.
You need to Login to know who's really who.
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 Thanks for the lunch hour laugh!
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Anyway, snowHeads is much more fun if you do.
Anyway, snowHeads is much more fun if you do.
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You'll need to Register first of course.
You'll need to Register first of course.
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coddlesangers, Brilliant! An object lesson in why learning from a "mate" is seldom a good idea. I just had to go and search your other posts and it's good to see that the initial experience didn't put you off skiing for life (I have one friend who took up snowboarding with her new beau because her former beau had scared her so much on a previous holiday that she simply can't face skiing ever again!).
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In fact, it probably made it easier for me to ski, what on earth could possibly be worse than what had already happened to me? Its been a howl a minute ever since in fairness, off to explore Splugen and other teeny resorts in Grison next week...already had around 25 days this season, targeting 40+!!
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You'll get to see more forums and be part of the best ski club on the net.
You'll get to see more forums and be part of the best ski club on the net.
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coddlesangers, love it - GOLD!
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