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Tall Tales

 Poster: A snowHead
Poster: A snowHead
I was humbled and very flattered by the response to my skiing yarns...it's probably because most skiers can relate to the various situations that I've found myself in.

I was also delighted to have inspired (if that's the right word) Jedster to tell his excellent tale....but this got me thinking how great it would be to hear about the experiences and mishaps of others. I'm sure there are some real crackers out there.

Since I don't want to monopolize any more threads, I thought I would create a space for such stories to be told.

Thank you in advance for any input.
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 Obviously A snowHead isn't a real person
Obviously A snowHead isn't a real person
If anyone hasn't seen @Old Fartbag's excellent oeuvre it is here:
http://snowheads.com/ski-forum/viewtopic.php?t=127949

Let's have some more!
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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?
About 15 years back I was at Sunshine Village near Banff for the first time, accompanied by Mrs MA, Bergmeister and Mrs B.

We'd heard that the Goat's Eye (??IIRC) area was steep - but have always enjoyed a bit of a challenge so off we went. Sure enough, we found some great runs - steep and challenging but the snow was excellent.

We then came across a sign on some double black diamond terrain that had a warning along the words of 'Cliffs, chutes, rocks, extreme terrain' and indicating that your were vritually on your own if you passed the sign...The others were a bit nervous at this stark warning of near certain death - but I was having none of it and pointed out the North American tendency to over-egg things - like warnings of thin cover, ice and marginal snow in near-perfect conditions....I recall saying 'You know what they're like over here - they're only covering their @r $es.....' So, at my insistence, off we went....to find 'Cliffs, chutes, rocks and extreme terrain' before us and the steepest, scariest face we'd ever found ourselves trying to survive. I remember thinking we wouldn't all be getting down in one piece.

But somehow, against the odds, we all managed it...After a rather scary ordeal....

Unsurprisingly I haven't been allowed to forget this little incident.... Laughing
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I think all of my memorable "incidents" have involved Andorra

First ski holiday, there were party games in the local night club "El Duc" to win a pair of skis etc, participants had to select a partner of the opposite sex at random from the audience, the girl I chose was friendly and chatty as the night went on and I managed to win the skis in the final, it was then that I noticed an "atmosphere", turns out that the girl was with her boyfriend and a bunch of his mates who were a bit miffed, harsh words were said and we made a sharp exit, skis in hand legging it down the street. (said skis were destroyed after 4 days use when a rock took the edge right off)

Years later, driving overnight to Andorra with my Fiance (now ex wife rolling eyes ) we noticed that the French cars were driving very slowly about an hour after leaving Calais, the roads didn't look that icy but I thought I'd better check so I eased the handbrake on and the back wheels immediately locked up! After about 500 miles of driving on sheet ice past various accidents and trucks laid in the gutter, it started to snow and the chains went on. Unbeknown to us, the radiator in our aged 405 estate was partially clogged, which was no problem on the level or short hills at speed but once we started the slow climb into the mountains, the temperature started to rise (just as the heater motor failed) the sides of the road were a 1m high wall of snow so any chance we got, we stopped to fill the engine bay of the car with snow Shocked
At one point the road does a left right under a rail bridge and my OH wanted to know what I was wailing about but she couldn't see from the passenger seat, the biggest snowplough in the world approaching at 100mph from the other side of the bridge, once it had passed (within mm) she eased herself off my knee and back into her own seat.
We eventually pulled into a fuel station near Pas de la Casa with about 10mm of ice crusted over most of the car, on leaving we found that the door locks had frozen open and had to drive the last few miles holding the doors shut.
Our friends apartment that we were using, had a woodburner, so we had taken a few bags of logs with us that also contained something that had eaten a hole in the seats when we went to check on the car a few days later.
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 Anyway, snowHeads is much more fun if you do.
Anyway, snowHeads is much more fun if you do.
@Old Fartbag, brilliant tales on the other thread.

I've had a similar whiteout experience, although more mildly concerning than scary. Heavy snow and wind in Val T, rest of the family (and most others) decided to call it a day, but I thought 'Just one more run'. No way am I paying for a ski pass for a day and bailing after 2 hours!! I went up Funtinel Peclet with the intention of skiing down Christine. Having been down it half an hour previously I knew the piste bashers had left a 4ft high wall of snow on either side, so I couldn't get lost if I stayed between the banks. Got to the top and conditions were substantially worse. The wind was hammering into my face and I could hardly see my hands. I poled across the flat bit to the right of the lift station and decided to take it really easy. (It was my 3rd ski trip). After a few minutes I thought that something didn't feel right. I stopped, adjusted my boots and checked bindings but my skis were not operating in the normal fashion. Every turn was killing my legs. It was the first time I had skied in that much fresh snow, so I thought that might be the problem. After about 20 minutes my thighs were burning, so I decided to head over to the left of the piste and have a rest. I turned left and waited for the bump into the snowbank...and waited....and waited. Oh 5h1t, no snowbank. I'm lost. I decided that as it was early in the day I would just wait where I was until the snow eased a bit and I could work out where I was and where I was going. After another 10 minutes the wind eased a bit and I could hear a lift, so I thought I must be down near Moraine. Relief. I'll ski on down as it is all green from there into the village. The snow soon eased and I found that I was about 20 yards from the Peclet lift station, standing perfectly still (as I had been for the past half hour) other than trying to go slow and make slide slippy turns so I didn't hit anything. I learned a valuable lesson. Making turns while standing still is not easy. Very Happy
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jedster wrote:

Let's have some more!

No pressure then!...but I hope to see others (like mk28's "between the wife's legs" story - blimey that sounds filthy)

I'll kick off my own thread with a trip I took to Verbier in 1980....which turned out to be bonkers, by anyone's definition.

I had recently left college and had been in a job long enough to earn some money..which was all to be blown on a ski holiday and my very first proper kit. The holiday was booked through Supertravel (I wasn't quite posh enough to use Blaydon Lions) and was for 2 weeks in Chalet Chat, Verbier. Our little group consisted of my parents and two mates from college (who didn't know each other). Mate 1 (who became known as Hoof) was loud, extrovert and had skied before; mate 2 (Dickie) was very quiet, shy, had never skied and had two left feet.

We went via London, where we met up with my friends and I purchased some Lange SLS skis, Salomon SX80s and an Event onepiece.....all bought at Du Sports on the Kings Road, no less.

We flew to Geneva and the transfer to Verbier went smoothly. We arrived late afternoon and my 2 mates dropped their bags and went in search of Beer. I didn't go with them as I'd managed to pick up a septic throat.

Dinner on the first night was at 8pm...It should have been at 7pm, but my two mates failed to make an appearance. They had gone MIA and in the end we had to go ahead, as they never showed up. It turned out that they had got so pissed that they couldn't find their way back to the Chalet....until 2am when they staggered in, trying to be quiet, but waking everyone up!

On day one, like the good mates we were, myself and Hoof fecked off and left Dickie to his own devices, while we went to ski school.

Now Hoof was on the pull and decided that wearing his glasses was detrimental to his precious image...so in his wisdom, he decided that going blind was a price worth paying (for vanity). We met up with the chaotic scrum of people that had to be split into different classes. For this to happen, they led us to a red mogul run in order to sort the sheep from the goats.....and by "us", I mean everybody but Hoof, who had magically vanished.

I had a pretty miserable morning, learning little, with an uninspiring instructor (who only spoke Germlish) and a class that was too big. Having put in my 3 hours, I made my way over to the restaurant that we had chosen for lunch. To my surprise, there was Hoof, surrounded by empty glasses and deep in conversation with an elderly gentlemen. Intrigued, I made my way over to find out the craic.

It turned out that Hoof, who couldn't see more than a foot or two, got left behind as the class made its way over for the Mogul Test. Now alone and at a loss, more drink seemed like a good idea. On his way over to the restaurant, he collided with the gentleman he was now sitting with and out of guilt, offered to buy him a drink by way of an apology. This turned out to be an inspired move, as this old gentleman had booked a private instructor for the fortnight, in order to get ski- ready for his son, who was joining him later. He said he hated skiing alone and asked us to join him on his lessons. We said that we'd love to, but would pay our share. He said that he would cover half and we could pay half between us. So the arrangement was made.

At no point during the day did we give a thought to poor Dickie....so it was high time to head home and see how he had survived. It turned out that he too was not without adventure. Having been left all alone, he went to pick up his skis, with the idea of busing over to the beginner area and giving this skiing lark a shot, before his lessons started the following day. After getting booted and spurred, he was stumping over to the bus, when he dropped a glove. As he bent over to pick it up, he felt the tips of his skis hit a lamp post...except the lamp post swore in German. Straightening up and turning to see where the torrent of Germanic abuse was coming from, the skis made contact a second time, but this time on the side of the unfortunate German's head. This stunned the poor fellow into silence. Dickie sheepishly apologized and gratefully arsed onto the bus that had conveniently pulled up.

On arriving at the beginner area, he now had to figure out how to put his skis on...and not a clue did he have....so he watched what others were doing and successfully copied. After about half an hour of uncontrolled marching/sliding/falling about on the near flat, he quickly realized that it was much more difficult than it looked...so he quickly decided to call it a day and head back. It then dawned on him that he had no idea how to take his skis off; so he went back to his plan of watching what other people did....which was push down on the back lever and step out. The problem was, he had no back lever, as he had those old bindings with a rubber toggle that you pull up.

I kid you not, Dickie was stuck in his skis for nearly 2 hours. Pride (and being an idiot) stopped him actually asking someone how to take them off...until he spotted someone with the same system and watched them. As he bent down to release the binding, a very stout, wayward German (a different one), managed to ski straight over his hand. The jolt shot Dickie's expensive sunglasses off his face. The German, having realized what he'd done, stopped and padded back to apologize....right over the sunglasses....squashing them flat.
Having had enough of the "skiing experience" for one day, he headed home.

That night, after the meal, my 2 friends headed out on the lash, while I went to bed, still nursing the septic throat. At about an hour after midnight, I was woken by a strange moaning sound, that appeared to be coming from inside the wardrobe. Groggily I staggered over and unlocked the cupboard door. There, upside down (and totally full), was my room mate, Dickie. "What the hell are you doing in there", I said. "Hoof stuffed me in here and I couldn't get out", came the rather pathetic reply.

The rest of the week was reasonably uneventful, but there were still some noteworthy events.

There was the morning where Hoof came into our room and in his loud, booming voice, started making disparaging remarks about the 2 middle aged, single ladies, that had the misfortune to be sharing the Chalet with us - all because they didn't meet the lofty standards of a horny 20 year old. The problem was, the two middle aged ladies were downstairs listening to every word, through the paper thin walls.....and because it was coming from our room, thought it was Dickie......this made for a very frosty relationship between them and the innocent Dickie....which myself and Hoof found hilarious and milked to the full.

Another occasion was on the day we went skiing with my parents. We were heading up on one of those old-school button lifts, where you have to catch the red disc as it flies by, put it between your legs and wait for the rope to fully uncoil (at which point it tries to yank your bollox out through your zipper!). My father went first, but the rope jammed long before it reached its full length. This resulted in my Father being lifted about 6 feet into the air (before the emergency stop button was pushed), where he was left dangling and spinning gently like a wind chime... until he was finally manhandled down by the lift staff. It was a while before he saw the funny side....not something we had trouble with, though.

Dickie continued to bus over to the fairly pathetic beginner area, where he was pretty miserable, learned little and was constantly taking pain killers to ease the pain in his hand...he refused to see a doctor.

Myself and Hoof had a splendid week skiing with our newfound friend and benefactor. He was a game old buzzard...especially as the instructor took the lesson at a pace that was more geared towards 20 year olds than a pensioner. He made it through the 2 weeks unscathed....right up to the moment where the last lesson was about to end. We had to ski down a short steep pitch to the restaurant, where he was to meet up with his son...and it was on this very final bit that he caught an edge, did the splits, pulled his groin and couldn't ski with his son for three days. I have to say, we did feel a bit guilty that we may have contributed to him getting knobbled.

As you can see, the holiday was fairly eventful. When Dickie arrived back home, he got checked by his doctor and found that he had a cracked bone in his hand. He has never shown any inclination to ski again, which is hardly surprising. When I look back to that holiday, I do feel (slightly) ashamed that we just fecked off and left him to it...but at that age, it's every man for himself.

Thank you for reading (if you've made it this far).


Last edited by You'll need to Register first of course. on Sat 19-11-16 13:22; edited 19 times in total
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 Then you can post your own questions or snow reports...
Then you can post your own questions or snow reports...
@Old Fartbag,
Quote:

spinning gently like a wind chime
Loved that! Laughing Laughing Laughing You write brilliantly!
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 After all it is free Go on u know u want to!
After all it is free Go on u know u want to!
Thank you all for your contributions...all excellent and all appreciated.
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You'll get to see more forums and be part of the best ski club on the net.
@Old Fartbag, I'm getting the impression that Northern Irish people probably shouldn't be let out wink
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Thornyhill wrote:
@Old Fartbag, I'm getting the impression that Northern Irish people probably shouldn't be let out wink

You might just be onto something there.
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 snowHeads are a friendly bunch.
snowHeads are a friendly bunch.
Hurtle wrote:
@Old Fartbag,
Quote:

spinning gently like a wind chime
Loved that! Laughing Laughing Laughing You write brilliantly!

Thank you.
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 And love to help out and answer questions and of course, read each other's snow reports.
And love to help out and answer questions and of course, read each other's snow reports.
One day when I was living in Zermatt, I decided it was time to stock up with some cheap booze from Cervinia, so skied over and down to the town and filled my rucksack with several bottles of spirits. Took the lifts back up and crossed back into Switzerland via the Theodulpass, where lo and behold, 2 Swiss customs officers were checking skiers.........
This had never happened before, but I had my passport so assumed all was golden.....
"What's in the bag?" asked one of the Gestapo
"An extra layer" I replied
"Show me" insisted the storm trooper
And on opening the bag and seeing several bottles of illicit alchohol, read me my rights, i.e. Pay up.
I said I wasn't going to,
He said you're not coming into Switzerland then
Impasse.......
I said fine, I'll go back to Cervinia and drink it in a bar and skied off!
But not back to the town, instead I took a chair up and hiked over the Furggen ridge (took around 40 mins), skied off-piste down to the Zermatt run down to Trockener Steg, sorted!
Well, actually not, I was 3/4 of the way down when suddenly I felt myself trapped in a pincer movement by the 2 officers and wrestled to the ground....
"So, you think you are James Bond" one quipped, "You're coming to the customs office with us, follow me" and ripped my season pass from around my neck (this was in the 80's before electronic passes)
Off we went and I realised I was in a bit of a pickle here, what to do, they've got my details, so can't leg it or I'm in deep $hit.........
As luck would have it, there was a tight hairpin on the Furgg Furi run down, I let them pull ahead and tossed the bottles into a snow bank, it was a hard sacrifice but my only option!
Followed them back to the Zollhaus, where they burst in to the head honcho's office and said " Ve have apprehended zis Englischer smuggling drink into Switzerland",
He came over to me and commanded "Open your bag"
(The two officers were looking very smug, brownie points were coming their way!)
I opened the bag, he looked inside, nothing......
He looked at the officers, said it's empty?
They went mad at me, he went mad at them, at one point there was actually froth coming from his mouth, he was that incensed Laughing
Nothing they could do, but on the way out, one of the officers took me to one side and told me my card was marked and if they ever caught me again I'd be arrested and charged.......
Anyway, not wanting to waste perfectly good booze, I later rode my bike up the road to Furi, hiked up to the hairpin to collect my bounty, only to find a hole in the snow and no bottles, someone must have seen me lob them and scored a nice prize!
Still, it was worth the loss for a good yarn!!!!!
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 So if you're just off somewhere snowy come back and post a snow report of your own and we'll all love you very much
So if you're just off somewhere snowy come back and post a snow report of your own and we'll all love you very much
@KenX

What a terrific story....and highlights the Swiss fixation with rules.

The only time I have seen Swiss security back down, was at Geneva Airport on our way back from a ski holiday with my brother in law (John). It was in the era before the world had gone mad, so not quite as paranoid as they are now.

Now John was shortlisted for the Guinness book of records for having the smelliest feet in the known world. For the trip home (and for reasons only known to him), he had put all his old socks in his hand luggage.

We were in a line waiting to have our luggage searched and John was at the front of the queue.

"NEXT", barked the fierce looking Swiss harridan, followed by,
"OPEN ZE BAG, PLEEZE"

As the zip slid along its track opening the bag, the most appalling smell of strong Blue Cheese (that has been left in the window of a car on a hot day), oozed from the bag.
Before the zip had reached its end, the lady now barked,
"SHUT ZE BAG PLEEZE", followed by
"NEXT"
Red faced, John lifted his handgepack and left the area.


Last edited by So if you're just off somewhere snowy come back and post a snow report of your own and we'll all love you very much on Fri 18-11-16 10:22; edited 1 time in total
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 You know it makes sense.
You know it makes sense.
@KenX,

that is a superb story - fantastic
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 Otherwise you'll just go on seeing the one name:
Otherwise you'll just go on seeing the one name:
@KenX, Great story! I trust you got your lift pass back? Madeye-Smiley
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 Poster: A snowHead
Poster: A snowHead
@KenX, Laughing Laughing
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 Obviously A snowHead isn't a real person
Obviously A snowHead isn't a real person
@Old Fartbag, brilliant yarns... Laughing
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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?
One time in the late 1980s I was staying in a hotel in Oberndorf (near St Johann in Tirol) and there was a group of about half a dozen lads from Liverpool also staying in the hotel, and I sat at the same dinner table as them. It was the time when 'Allo, 'Allo was popular on TV, and the lads had taken to jokingly referring to the Austrian owner of the very smart hotel as "Herr Flick". Laughing Unfortunately the staff had noticed this and word had got back to the owner so knowing I spoke a bit of German he jovially came up to me at the dinner table and innocently asked me in the little English he had to explain why he was being referred to as Herr Flick. For a second or two I thought to myself OMG what do I say, meanwhile the scousers were having a right laugh at this. However I gathered my thoughts and explained that Herr Flick was a German character in a British TV comedy show and he was very funny. This seemed to please the owner (I had of course diplomatically omitted the fact that Herr Flick was a Gestapo officer wink Toofy Grin )
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@KenX,
+1
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 Anyway, snowHeads is much more fun if you do.
Anyway, snowHeads is much more fun if you do.
I would like to lay claim to the invention of rocker skis, round about 1980!
It was in 3V on a school trip. I was immensely proud to graduate from the "beginner" skis with plate and cable bindings to proper skis, over head high and with step in bindings! Cutting edge or what.

The problem was that the brakes were not that reliable on the unloved examples issued to school groups, a mate of mine had lost a ski which proceeded off downslope at enormous speed, finally shooting into the trees and around head height never to be seen again. Not wishing to follow his example and get shouted at by teachers, ski hire and the family nearly decapitated by the flying ski, I decided to "tweak" the release settings. On the grounds that I might not be very good, but I played rugby and had good strong legs so what could possibly go wrong I "tweaked" up to DIN 10 allround.

All went well until one whiteout day. The place was pretty empty (everyone else had more sense) so, with 16yo confidence I had built up a good speed on what should have been a well known red run. What I had forgotten was that a green track cut across the face of the run, this had just been plowed leaving a bank on both sides. The shock of dropping off the upslope bank was nothing compared with the sudden stop as my skis dug into the downslope bank. I ended up face down in the snow, the bindings did not however release so it took a while to extract myself. When I did, both skis were cocked up at the tips like a pair or sledge runners from just in front of the boots. The rocker approach was not very effective funnily enough.
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Brilliant stories. Makes me realise what a sheltered life I have led on the ski slopes
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 Then you can post your own questions or snow reports...
Then you can post your own questions or snow reports...
Whilst skiing in Meribel with my wife we thought we would head over to Val Thorens to check out the local pistes. It was a fairly cold day so we thought we would catch an early lunch. Well one thing led to another and shall we say some of the local vino was imbibed. On emerging from the restaurant after a fine lunch we realised that the weather had taken a turn for the worse. We skied down the logging track in the valley floor to Les Menuires and then took the Bruyeres gondola back to the top of the Mont De La Chambre. We soon clocked that things were not going well when the gondola starting swinging fairly violently on its assent. On reaching the top station the cabin actually hit the top pylon so violent was the wind on the summit (lift was halted pretty much as we stepped off it). On rounding the top gondola station we were confronted by a scene that resembled the end of the world. The wind has stripped off all the fresh snow from the ridge so we had to ski on bomb proof ice for the opening section. Where the run flattens out we could not actually make any headway at all against the wind so had to take our skis off and trudge along the piste carrying them. My poor wife was nearly in tears as she tucked in behind me to seek some shelter from the battering. We eventually reached the start of the run into the top of the Meribel valley and gratefully put our skis back on and dropped out of the wind. We were not the only souls on the ridge mind - I saw at least two children get blown over who then had to be rescued by their parents. Needless to say the whole saga totally negated the lunch and I still can not ski that ridge without thinking of that afternoon. rolling eyes


Last edited by Then you can post your own questions or snow reports... on Fri 18-11-16 12:03; edited 1 time in total
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 After all it is free Go on u know u want to!
After all it is free Go on u know u want to!
Time for me to 'fess up.

It is skiing related:

few years ago I had an operation for a Hiatus Hernia, all went well, but the surgeon did warn me that for some people there could be an adjustment period when one's workings could be "windy" as he put it.
In my case...no kidding!

So we stop at a mountain restaurant for lunch, and at the end of the meal...I have to go, I mean I HAVE TO GO!

The men's room is just that, a room. Just one. Enclosed. No window. Just a fan. The fan does not work.

I do what I have to do. A lot of it, with wind. Wet and wild.
Did I mention the wind?

Even I was aware that this was obnoxiously windy.

Someone is trying the door...giving me the hurry-up. There is nothing I can do...there is unfinished business. They will just have to wait.

All good things must pass, and eventually I finish.
I open the door to the unventilated, enclosed, men's room. A little kid is waiting with his dad. His dad mutters something along the lines of "about time" and the kid is holding himself in the way that a busting-for-a pee kid does.

They enter the room.....

OH MY GOD! says the dad.
DAAAAD! I CAN'T GO IN THERE! says the kid.

They exit the room. At speed.

Then a wail from the kid......

Daddy I've weeded in my pants!

I left the building, not sure if I was proud or ashamed
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You'll get to see more forums and be part of the best ski club on the net.
I guy I worked with a few years back told me of his son's skiing misadventure. Some of the details seem a little woolly and others are hard to believe, but he was a someone I knew well and no reason to make things up..... enjoy Very Happy

University student with very limited skiing experience was making his way down the piste. Catches an edge and falls in a heap. Ski boots were less good in those days (early 80's) and on rising discovers that he has twisted an ankle (or maybe knee). Unable to ski he takes off his skis and starts to hobble down the piste. Pisteurs appear as if by magic and ask if he is OK, He says he's fine but will walk down as unable to ski. Pisteurs say they can't let him do that as it's not safe and if he can't ski down he must go down in a blood wagon. Blood wagon is duly summoned and, feeling a complete fraud, the young man is strapped in like a mummy and off they set. Half way down a particularly steep and bumpy section the pisteur at the back with the 'reins' loses control and let's go. Pisteur at the front is now unable to control things on his own and also lets go. Young man with mildly sprained ankle is now hurtling down the slope gathering speed rapidly. He makes a good fist of the moguls but then the piste turns left while the blood wagon continues straight on, impacting the first tree whereupon the poor chap, trussed in like a turkey, breaks both ankles. Embarassed
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 Ski the Net with snowHeads
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@rungsp, I nearly wet my own pants laughing reading that! That's coming from a dad of 3 kids who's had plenty of "I'm bursting" moments to contend with too so I feel the other blokes pain.

I can't compete with some of these stories but a couple of snippets.

My first skiing holiday abroad was when I was in my early 20s to Andorra (Soldeu), with 3 mates. I was the only one who'd skied before so it was lessons all round. Beginners for them, Intermediate for me to avoid skiing on my own. After the first day's lessons we met up part way up the hill, pottered around for a bit, then I decided we should all ski back down to the bottom. They were doing all right, had all mastered a basic snowplough, there was a green slope all the way back, what could go wrong?

What could go wrong was that I'd not been down the green to the base myself and although it was a pretty gentle gradient, it was narrow, very narrow, no more than a car's width, cos during the summer it was probably a forest track. Well by the time we got half way down, after numerous falls, they all had their skis off despite protestations from me that it'd still be faster to try to ski it. Pretty sure remembering we got 'swept up' by the ski patrol in the end as the hill closed. All my fault to be honest and ever since I'll not take someone down a run unless I'm 100% sure it's within their ability and/or I've checked it out myself first. It was far from amusing at the time, but it was after a few beers that evening.

Another funny incident was just last year at Nevis Range. Wife, myself and son went up the Goose T-Bar, son and I together in front of wife. We got off at the top, skied away from the dismount area and stopped. When I looked back the wife had just dismounted successfully. I looked back about a minute later and she was sprawled in a heap beside the track. Something didn't look quite right though, she was missing both ski poles, but had something 'strange' in one hand. I shuffled back and picked her up, retrieving the one ski pole I could find. I then asked "where's your other pole?".

It turns out when she'd got off, faffed a little, she'd forgot that she then had to ski past the downhill return of the t-bars. When doing so one of her poles had got caught in the string of a still retracting T-bar as she skied past it. It had yanked her off her feet, only dropping her as the snarled pole came away from the pole's grip, hence the 'strange' object I'd noticed in her hand. Of course by now the rest of her pole was merrily heading back downhill, still entangled in the T-Bar string. We could still see it in the distance.

I'd to quickly ski back to the bottom, past the pole at mid point, and try to explain to the lifty that I was there to retrieve my wife's pole. I don't think he believed me, especially as it seemed to take an age to arrive, dismissing his "it might have fallen off?" query. No, there it was, messily bobbing it's way down, still tangled up but otherwise undamaged. The lifty said that in 20 years he'd never seen that happen before.

Of course, next time back at the lift I just HAD to 'introduce' him to my wife.
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 snowHeads are a friendly bunch.
snowHeads are a friendly bunch.
I have spent a truly excellent morning reading through all your contributions...it's good to know I'm not alone...though I think it's fair to say that I've had more than my fair share of daft moments.

....and if you can stomach more of them, here is another....triggered by rungsp's hilarious post

This one happened way back in the mid 70s, where our family holiday took us to Livigno, staying at the Hotel La Pastorella ...which was not the reasonable looking place it has now, but a bargain basement hovel.

Staying in the hotel with us was a lovely Scottish couple, who had a splendidly old fashioned and delightful 11 year old daughter. In Italy at that time, group lessons included a mix of adults and children (maybe that's still the case?). She was in my class and during these lessons, decided that I would make a good surrogate older brother and we formed a bond. She was such a funny wee thing that I was delighted to take her under my wing.

When the afternoon lesson had finished, she would turn to me and say, in a squeaky Highland voice, "Will yu buy me a bottle o' pop...a big bottle." This required taking an interminably long drag, beside a Black run through the trees, to the restaurant.

Being of a devilish nature, she got great amusement from dropping bits of kit ("Help, I've droped mi pole, can u pick it up", would echo through the trees) and then watching me going into contortions trying to pick them up. It started by accident, as many of these things do, but soon turned into a sport.

Anyway, that's by the by. On this particular afternoon, we arrived at the restaurant as usual and she talked me into getting her a full 2 litre bottle of Coke. Being 15 and not having my own kids, I hadn't thought through the full implications of this purchase.

As we were heading back down (and I'm sure you're ahead of me here), she stopped suddenly and said matter of factly, "I've got to go to the toilet and I have to go now!".

Keeping a calm head, I looked about and saw a suitably dense section of forest. "You may make your way into the trees and go there, where nobody can see you", I suggested. She accepted this as a suitable compromise and gingerly made her way into the trees. I politely stood guard at the edge of the piste, with my back to the trees.

I heard a certain amount of rustling and then an anguished squeek.....shortly before she shot out backwards from between the trees, with her ski pants around her ankles. I sprung into action, removed my skis and quickly pushed this most indignant of young ladies, back from whence she came. I made sure her skis were pointed properly across the fall line and made a swift exit.

Business completed, we made it safely back....and I was sworn to secrecy.

I think I'm safe enough talking about it now, given the amount of time that's passed. It's funny to think she is now over 50 and probably has her own family...I wonder if she still remembers.


Last edited by snowHeads are a friendly bunch. on Fri 18-11-16 17:27; edited 3 times in total
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 And love to help out and answer questions and of course, read each other's snow reports.
And love to help out and answer questions and of course, read each other's snow reports.
Well there are some excellent contributions here. Lots of snorting.


In a similar - "seemed like a good idea at the time" vein I'm compelled to reveal my only real apres disaster.

This must have been 1995 and a bunch of us who had worked a season together but now had "proper" jobs managed to get a stupidly cheap January deal from our old chalet company. A nice chalet in Meribel, almost ski in ski out from the piste below the Rond Point bar (pisteside, terrace). We got into the habit of stopping off there for a beer or two before skiing the last half run back to the chalet. One day the apres spirit caught us particularly well, the bar was buzzing and their was a pretty good acoustic duo playing. Deux grand bieres pression became quatre and then cinq. It was pitch black and getting a bit close to dinner time. After struggling into my bindings I managed to ski down without incident. Hardly recommended but great fun, enough reflected light to see the piste and crisp January night air flushing the cheeks and taking the edge of the alcohol. Everyone home safe.

In my mid-twenties I'd somehow fallen under the impression that cocktails were very sophisticated and we'd secured cointreau, tequila and limes ready to produce some margaritas. I somewhat unsteadily gathered the kit together in the little kitchenette/bar in the living room (nice chalet). Digging through the cupboards I found everything except a juicer for the limes. No matter though - I found a sharp looking carving knife! A man of my improvisation skills could surely make do with that.
I sliced the first lime in half.
I held one half in my left hand.
I inserted the rather pointed tip of said carving knife in the fruit.
I rotated it in a skilful scooping motion.
It went through the lime like a, well, sharp carving knife.
And through the peel.
And through my thumb.
I remember it being more shocking than painful. In fact despite the booze I got a wave of "you are ridiculous - what did you expect" before it really started hurting. I stuck it under the cold tap and tried not to focus too much on the damage.
Clearly I must have taken the whole thing with a great deal of steel, stoicism and not a hint of fuss because I was immediately joined at the sink by the other residents of the living room including the two "medics" in the party - a vet and a podiatrist. The vet took one look and said "you are going to want some stitches in that - I'd do it myself but I haven't got my bag. So the chalet host got on the phone to "Dr Smash" and the podiatrist wrapped up my thumb and kept it elevated.
Meanwhile one of my mates opened one of the cupboard doors, "Oh were you looking for this?" waving one of those glass juicers at me. I found it a deal less funny than everyone else.
ski holidays
 So if you're just off somewhere snowy come back and post a snow report of your own and we'll all love you very much
So if you're just off somewhere snowy come back and post a snow report of your own and we'll all love you very much
A friend of mine woke up one morning on a uni ski trip, completely unaware of where he was. Strange room with a simple bed and nothing else. Very strong looking door.
He gets up and tries the door, it's locked. He bangs on it and shouts. Nothing. It gradually dawns on him that this is a police cell.

About half an hour later the door opens and a Gendarme is standing there, looking very angry. He says "So, you are awake. Are you ready to confess?" My friend is now very worried. "Confess to what?" Which just makes the Gendarme mad, and he slams the door shut and leaves. This is repeated 3 times, each time demands for a confession met with abject confusion on one side and real anger on the other.

Mt friend is now really bricking himself, and he's wracking his brains for some clue as to what he might have done to end up in here, but he can't remember anything after leaving the bar. What did he do? About an hour later, by which time the poor lad is in a real state, the door opens again and it's the Gendarme but this time he also has the rep from the travel company with him, who can barely keep a straight face. My friend is so happy to see someone he knows, and starts asking what he's done, at which point the rep's eyes go wide "You...? You...? You don't remember what you did...?" A shake of the head from my friend. At which point the rep loses control, basically collapses with laughter. The Gendarme is seriously unimpressed with this, and storms off shouting angry french. Another, much younger, Gendarme appears. And to my friend's further confusion he's finding it as funny as the rep. Over the next 5 minutes, between fits of laughter, the young gendarme and the rep tell my friend what he did.

He stole the Older Gendarme's hat from off his head and wouldn't give it back.

That was all.
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 You know it makes sense.
You know it makes sense.
Repost but still amuses me... An old 2-man rattler lift in Mammoth, a friend and I are heading up to start sessioning a rather nice bowl down into a lovely wooded run we'd been riding the day before. It's mid-week and quiet as quiet can be, and we're heading up early doors, our tracks were the only ones to the up lift at that point. Like i said, we've been up this route the day before and know whats waiting for us, a bit icy but OK exit, hooking off to the right... or do we... The top lifty that morning had taken it upon himself to dig out and rebuild the exit ramp to the lift, thinking nobody would be coming up at that time of the morning on a Thursday, so when we arrive we're greeted by a surprised looking liftie with a shovel and a 3 foot drop off the seat of a lift that doesn't slow down. So we drop. I hit the deck and immediately lose the board from underneath me on boilerplate ice, knowing the chair it about to whistle over my head, I lie flat as possible and wait to scramble out. Friend drops off her seat, lands on the tail of her board, which compresses and springs her perfectly back into the air to be recollected by the chair, and then off around the corner into the emergency stop switch; stopping the lift dead with her swinging in space, wailing; and me lying flat on my back under the next chair which is now swinging like Poe's pendulum about a foot from my face, and a liftie laughing so hard he can barely breathe. We had to get the ladder to get her off the lift...
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 Otherwise you'll just go on seeing the one name:
Otherwise you'll just go on seeing the one name:
This is the best ever thread! Very Happy
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 Poster: A snowHead
Poster: A snowHead
On my husbands first ski trip at the age of nearly 50 ( I had skied before ) we encountered the most horrific dump as we left Arinsal. I have never seen so much snow, it was quite terrifying. The 3 kids were asleep so missed it all. It was a very sudden dump and our bus driver was fab, although hearing the ABS on every corner was very unnerving. Suddenly our driver pulled alongside a coach that had swerved gently off the road into the mountain side. The driver had apparently fallen asleep and caused this minor accident however the passengers were totally refusing to carry on with him driving. Our driver hopped on to see if he could help, another driver was duly summoned and he got off to return to us........as he stepped back onto the bus it began to slide down the road of its own accord. He was still on the steps at the time. He leapt into his seat and swiftly took control and got us safely to the airport. I thought my husband was going to poop himself.
This Easter at Les Deux Alpes my husband had partaken of a little beer. He decided that he was hungry. A little like a previous post, he held said bread roll in his left hand and swiftly cut through with the exceptionally sharp bread knife in his right. Straight through into his palm., causing a lovely deep laceration. Fortunately I used to be a nurse and carry a good first aid kit. Steri strips applied and the week was saved.
My pants peeing moment was again in Les Deux Alpes when we were using the little pedestrian lift. Hubby got a little muddled with skis and poles and the doors began to close. He stuck his ski pole in to prevent it closing. .....that doesn't work in France obviously. The handle was shut in the door. Thankfully it was only the outer door and not the bit that moves. He just stood there until the lift came back down. Blooming hilarious. We even have photographic evidence.
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 Obviously A snowHead isn't a real person
Obviously A snowHead isn't a real person
Michelle63 wrote:
I thought my husband was going to poop himself. .


...potentially adding to the horrific dump in the Alps, so to speak. wink
ski holidays
 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?
Skiing related but not actually skiing.

I had recently taken up skiing and the winter olympics were on an Sarajevo.
A group at work decide we wanted to go watch the mens downhill and went in early to complete our work and take an hour off to watch the tele in the lounge.
Completed work dashed down and it was seriously sunny outside so we had to close the curtains to see the tele.

It was not sunny in Sarajevo it was foggy and the downhill was postponed.

So we had a look at a video someone had rented. Kentucky fried Movie, not a great film but a series of skits on other movies , one of which is a soft porn skit, full of dimly shots of heaving breasts and much sounds of women orgasming.... and us with the curtains closed. At which point the boss walks in showing visitors around......
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 You need to Login to know who's really who.
You need to Login to know who's really who.
My second year of skiing, I was in the Royal Navy, we were off the coast of Norway, year was about 1991.

We had been to Trondheim the previous year and knew the local slope had floodlights. Ship alongside, 5 of us jump in a taxi and make for the slope. 2 were very proficient, 1 was like me, we could get ourselves down but not very glamorous and Taff hadn't been on skis before.

Arrive at slopes, hire skis etc and get outside. A family of locals have just turned up for the evening skiing. Ma, Pa and two little ones aged 4 and 5. Full face crash hats the works. Ma and Pa were talking to us, interested in what us English (sorry to Neil the Taff!!) were doing up there. After explanations we make for the baby slope to give Taff a start. The family follow. The little ones can't work out how someone in the 20s cannot ski. Smile

After a few minutes, Ma and Pa suggest that their little ones assist Taff, we could all go skiing together.

So, we get Taff on the lift and manage to get ourselves up the chair lift. At the top, little ones are given instructions which we didn't understand, and we are away. We would see more of Taff as we came round on the circuit and passed him somewhere.

Down the slope we go, up the lift, just started down the slope again and about 10 yards down there is Taff on his side being pulled up by these kids. Everyone enjoying themselves but no one as much as the little ones who still couldn't work out how you can get to your 20s without learning to ski.

Taff only made it down the slope once but thoroughly enjoyed his evening, as did we.

His instructors were in for another treat as we sat in the bar afterwards and they were rewarded with ice cream from Ma and Pa, followed by another from each of us. Smile
latest report
 Anyway, snowHeads is much more fun if you do.
Anyway, snowHeads is much more fun if you do.
Old Fartbag wrote:


As the zip slid along its track opening the bag, the most appalling smell of strong Blue Cheese (that has been left in the window of a car on a hot day), oozed from the bag.
Before the zip had reached its end, the lady now barked,
"SHUT ZE BAG PLEEZE", followed by
"NEXT"
Red faced, John lifted his handgepack and left the area.


You should try sharing an apartment with spyderjon and dave of the marmottes. 4 blocks of Camembert which every time you opened the fridge made the entire annex building smell like somebody had dropped their ar$e right in front of you, you could smell it 2 apartments down the corridor. Bringing fellow snowheads back to the apartment you had to explain that we weren't all filthy humans who didn't wash.

for some reason they took a piece back in the car, apparently Jon was trying to sell the car at that time and it wasn't a great help
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 You'll need to Register first of course.
You'll need to Register first of course.
@jedster, OMG, we had an encounter with Doctor Smash in Meribel in '92 or '93.
I worked for an outdoor retailer, and they ran a management ski trip every year, so there were about 25 of us. The chalet wasn't technically ski in ski out, but my OH and a friend decided to take an off piste safari and get back on skis. Unfortunately it was early April and they ran out of snow. I was greeted by a knock on the door of our room, and our friend saying 'Don't panic, it's not as bad as it looks' - my OH had encountered a rock with his head, and had a gash that ran down his forehead, across his goggles, and off the end of his nose. Dr. Smash put 5 stitches inside the gash, and 6 on the outside. My sister who was training to be a doctor took the stitches out ten days later in my mum's living room with the help of a Swiss Army knife and some Blue Label Smirnoff to sterilize the knife. I suspect some of it went to fortify the patient, too.
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 Then you can post your own questions or snow reports...
Then you can post your own questions or snow reports...
@dp, Laughing Laughing Laughing

We once bought a French cheese which tasted amazing when the girl in the supermarket offered us a sample, but smelled of sour vomit when you cut into it. It had a chewy exterior and runny inside. In an effort to rid the apartment of the smell I scooped it from the fridge and went straight for the outside bins....in the lift.....bad mistake.
ski holidays
 After all it is free Go on u know u want to!
After all it is free Go on u know u want to!
Conversation with client,

The Client, "My boots stiil hurt like hell and it's the second day,"

Me, "let me have a look,"

Me, "perhaps the right boot should go on the right foot?"

...
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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.
Thornyhill wrote:


In an effort to rid the apartment of the smell I scooped it from the fridge and went straight for the outside bins....in the lift.....bad mistake.


That's wrong on so many levels. Toofy Grin
ski holidays
 Ski the Net with snowHeads
Ski the Net with snowHeads
@geepee, Laughing Laughing Dry boaking continued from level 4 down to the bins.....at which stage I thought I had escaped....until I got back in the same lift. There may have been alcohol involved.
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