Sunday, February 11, 2018

Snow joke


Snow joke: true-life ski stories

Everyone has a ski story – embarrassing moments, near-misses, avalanches … and some of them are even true. Industry professionals share their best tales
 Add your own hairy or scary ski story by clicking here
a skier in the snow

When tree-hugging goes bad

Dom Harington, professional snowboarder
I'd hit the big time as a professional snowboarder. I was getting paid to ride powder in the Andes! I'd be filmed and photographed for Relentless energy drinks along with some of my favourite pro riders.
On arriving in Chile, I went to "work", finding something that looked dangerous and jumping off it for the cameras. We soon found a gap high in the trees that I thought it would be possible to fly over if you took it at the right speed. It looked terrifying, but aided by Kodak courage I gave it a go. With trembling legs, I popped into the air, through the gap and came to land feeling a combination of adrenaline and satisfaction. This awesome feeling lasted a whole second before I rode at full speed into a massive tree.
After coming round, I was whisked away by amused paramedics and taken for every kind of scan, x-ray and injection they had. Were they cashing in on good insurance cover or being helpful? I was just pleased to find all my bones in the right place and to hobble out of the hospital. Unable to snowboard, I was forced to spend the rest of the trip chilling in hot tubs, and lounging in the hotel eating steak and drinking red wine.

Bear-faced cheek

Lynsey Devon, PR for Ski Alpine (ski-alpine.co.uk)
It was the end of a long ski season in Whistler, so to encourage the staff to clean the chalets properly we decided to host a party. We bought lots of boxes of wine and stored them under the outside stairs to keep them cool. The next day the chalet staff were busy cleaning when I noticed a trail of empty cardboard boxes across the back garden leading to the creek behind. We decide to investigate, thinking maybe someone was playing a joke. Then there came a deep low groan, sounding like a very old man. If only.
Instead we were confronted by a rather intoxicated brown Daddy bear, who lunged as if line-dancing with his eyes closed. He missed us by a hair, then swaggered down the creek. Imagine an over-the-limit bear fresh out of hibernation drinking several litres of wine on an empty stomach. He later fell asleep next to the highway and was airlifted to a safer place to sleep off his hangover.

Bum's rush


Utah Olympics jump
 How it should be done … a competitor at the 2002 Winter Olympics in Utah. Photograph: Chris Trotman/Duomo/Corbis

Jonathan Thompson, senior editor, Men's Health magazine
Looking back, I should never have attempted the 40m jump, especially after I'd broken my bottom. But the photographer hadn't got his shot, and we'd flown all the way to the west coast for this, so I gritted my teeth and went for it again.
We were in Park City, Utah – site of the 2002 Winter Olympics – and I'd been in ski jump school for three days. Working up from a one-metre kicker, I'd made it to the 20m monster by day three. And that was where over-confidence got the better of me. I took on its towering 40m big brother.
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It was on my second attempt that I shattered my coccyx. Soaring almost comically high and dangerously fast (less Eddie the Eagle, more Angry Birds) I landed like a Lycra-clad cannonball directly on my backside, so hard that I bounced into the air before landing back on the same spot with a tongue-biting smack. My left ski detached with such velocity that it shot down to the end of the jump, across a road and into the wall of a cafe.
But that wasn't the bottom line. A few agonising minutes later I found myself with a broken bone going down an Olympic ski jump again. Unnecessary bravado? Pain-induced psychosis? Over-exacting photographer? All of the above. But fortunately for me and my fragmented bum, I managed it. We got the shot and limped off to Salt Lake City airport.
It's hard to decide what was the worst part. Possibly the 11-hour plane journey (I had to be carried off in the foetal position at the other end). Or the cab ride to hospital from Heathrow – followed by an unbecoming incident with a doctor and some lubricant. And the moral? Eddie the Eagle was one brave bastard.

Lucky call 

Sascha Hamm, professional British freeride snowboarder
My friend Robert and I were hiking at the end of the day above the Austrian resort of Hochfügen. He decided to call it a day, but I carried on to the top and rode on my own (never a good idea). Halfway down I dropped into a gully, did one turn and realised it wasn't powder, but hard, wind-packed snow.
I skipped out on my heel edge and fell, setting off an avalanche which took the whole gully with it. I remember heading for trees, and managed to grab a trunk for half a second. But the avalanche ripped me off and took me over a cliff, and I landed headfirst in a hole with tons of snow pouring over me. Thankfully, my board acted like an umbrella, and though I was jammed in, I had a small air pocket. Even more luckily, I could move my left hand a little, which was just near the pocket with my mobile phone in it. Amazingly, I managed to press the green button. The phone rang and I heard Robert's voice. I explained that I was buried, and fast running out of air. He alerted the helicopter rescue.
His sense of direction is terrible though, and when my phone battery died after two hours, I thought I was a goner. But eventually I heard the helicopter. They found me from the transceiver signal and dug me out.

Perfect planning

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Elodie Beaudeau, professional freestyle skier
I have been a freestyle skier for three years and photographs are really important to what I do. Last February, after a big dump of snow, I was heading to Châtel, a pretty resort in the Portes du Soleil, with several friends, a photographer and a cameraman. It was the kind of day we dream of: sunshine and clear skies, with 50cm of fresh powder high up. We planned everything, making sure we had shovels, transceivers, probes, sandwiches and water. Half-way to Châtel, a back tyre punctured. It wasn't serious: we changed the tyre and got back on our way. But was it an omen?
At Châtel we took the chairlift up to a spot we'd found a few days before. The sun shone; the snow was fresh and easy to work with. We started on our first kicker in a lovely spot, confident the photos would be amazing. Making a kicker takes several hours. Everyone was getting impatient, wanting to be first, wanting the chance to make the only shot without any tracks in it.
All was ready. I got the first go and set off. I just missed going into a tree, made a mistake on the kicker and fell … the first shot was ruined. And I was stretchered off the hill with a broken thumb and a sprained neck. Lovely day!

White nights

Dave Taverner, owner of a holiday chalet in Chamonix (tinyurl.com/6gk5a96)
As a student, with the dregs of my overdraft to support me, I booked a last-minute trip to Chamonix. It's hard to find accommodation there in peak season. I had to retire to the woods and set to work building a bargain bivouac.
A few hours of branch stacking later, I was rather proud of my Ray Mears masterpiece – it even had a Matterhorn- inspired, Toblerone shape. Having imagined I would while away the evening in the Chambre 9 bar chatting with a Scandinavian snow bunny, I huddled by the fire drinking a box of vin-de-horrible and running through the pitch-black forest to warm up. My bed was leafy, pokey and lacked memory foam, and I woke early to wet sleet and soaking feet. For a couple of hours I curled like a Pilates master in the wooden warren before running dripping and exhausted to sit shivering in the train station until the lifts opened.

Speed merchants 

Ian Ashmore, a director of the DalikFodda (dalikfodda.com) snowboard clothing label 
My friend Will was lent a GPS wristwatch that tells you how far you have travelled, your vertical descent and your top speed. We decided to misuse this equipment. There is a piste in Tignes called Trolles that gets very, very steep. After dropping the run straight, I got to a speed where I thought, if I fall, I'll die. The watch recorded a speed of 126kmph. That's 78mph – we'd broken the UK speed limit! We tried to top 130kmph, the French limit but, after five goes decided to retire before we were "retired".

Sister sledge


Young woman riding sledge
 Who needs skis to get into trouble …? Photograph: Alamy

Julie Slaughter, owner of Wipeout goggle-wipe piste maps (wipe-out.eu)
I was in Wengen and had to get to Grindelwald. People in that area love their sledging and the routes are nuts – they cross ski pistes and get incredibly fast. My friend suggested I sledge between the two towns, which should take about an hour.
I was in jeans, and riding an old-fashioned wooden sledge. The first part was quite mellow, just below the north face of the beautiful Eiger. But then it turned incredibly fast. The first corner was a sharp right-hand bend and I overshot it into a wood. The ground was so icy I couldn't stand, and I could hear people giggling as they whipped past. I was crawling on my hands and knees thinking, what if I die down here? There are no barriers and no safety people. After flying off my third corner, I decided to walk down, and keep my sense of humour intact.

Leap of faith 

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Nicky Holford, ski journalist
For some reason I agreed to do a ski jump on one of the Olympic jumps at Steamboat in Colorado. I had to get to the top on my own in a tiny lift. Once there, I was not sure I could do it. I was wearing the sort of Michelin suit ski jumpers wear, and these huge long skis with no edges or ski poles. Once you start there is no stopping, as you can't turn. I'd had a swig of brandy, but I was terrified. Somehow I set off and the speed was incredible. When I got to the point where you are supposed to use the momentum to lift off as if you're flying, I was so scared I just plopped over and hit the concave of the jump, instead of the hill below. I racked up so much speed that I could feel the G-force. At the end, I was going so fast I went straight into the car park. I haven't done that again.

Sleigh bells ring 

Tammy Esten of Mint Snowboard School (mintsnowboarding.com) in Morzine, Avoriaz and Les Gets
While living in Zermatt, I was struck down with gastroenteritis. On my way up the pedestrian high street to the pharmacy, I suddenly heard the bells of one of the town's enormous, horse-drawn sleighs. I turned to see it bearing down on me at full speed. I leapt to the right, but the next thing I knew I was under the horses' hooves. My reaction was to curl up and protect my head, but the carriage was coming, so I stretched long and thin to fit between its runners. Bystanders started screaming – the driver had stopped the sleigh just in time to prevent a row of 20cm metal spikes (used as brakes) at the back of the sleigh from going into my head!

Zorro on skis 


Xtreme freeride contest
 Reine Barkered in action. Photograph: Jean-Christophe Bott/Corbis

Reine Barkered, Swedish professional skier and 2011 Freeride World Tour member
In Alta's backcountry I was doing a photoshoot for a Danish newspaper. We were standing on a traverse when a guy skied up and stopped in front of me. I asked, "Hey what's up?" For a response, I got a punch in the face, which split my lip. The guy kept yelling, "Go back to fucking Europe!"
I was kind of confused. The guy started waving his pole at me and got me in the arm. I was bleeding, so I grabbed my ski pole. A fencing match was on! Luckily I've seen Zorro, so I knew what to do. After a while I broke his pole. He retreated, screaming, "I'm going to need a helicopter down, man!"
At the bottom I found the sheriff and explained what happened. His reply was, "Well, welcome to Utah."

Dress to impress

Betony Garner, PR manager, Ski Club of Great Britain
Whistler was swarming with international ski racers during the 2010 Olympics. I was always on the lookout for my heroes – especially the likes of big downhill (male) racers such as Bode Miller. One day I realised that lots of racers were taking a particular chairlift up to their practice piste. I whispered to my friend that we should follow. To our delight, we managed to get in the queue next to some of the US team.
We were giggling like schoolgirls. But as the lift came to sweep us all up, I put my bottom down and was suddenly lying on the ground. My lovely new ski pants had turned super slippy in the wet snow. The lift was stopped and I had to go to the back of the queue. And the worst thing was my friend got to ride with the US ski team all the way to the top.

Going down under


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Johno Verity, professional snowboarder, johnoverity.co.uk
I was filming my friend and pro snowboarder Eric Themel along a ridge line in New Zealand. Eric dropped off a small cliff and as he landed the whole slope started to avalanche. I was right in the middle of it, and my first thought was that the slope we were on ended in a horrible pit, which might compress the snow and crush me to death.
The avalanche built up a huge amount of speed, so there was no way I could straightline out. A wall of snow came from behind and flipped me on to my front. I was getting buried. It was horrible to feel the pressure build as the whole field hit the pit. But then, strangely, the pressure went: the avalanche had enough momentum to blast through and over the other side of the pit – and as it did so it petered out. When it finally stopped I had snow everywhere – in my throat, eyes and nose – but I was sitting on top of the snow. I felt so lucky.
Watch Johno's avalanche experience at: youtube.com/watch?v=ziBYa5qYZcM

Skid to a halt


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Seb Michaud, professional skier Alaska is the best playground for freeriding, but one of the most dangerous. During my first trip in 1997, I had to ski down a huge rock bar then out of the face. The start was excellent, powdery snow flying. But at the exit, a small snow slide took me and dragged me towards a huge precipice. I did not have time to reflect or try to extract myself from this slide of death. I slipped, I slipped ... and suddenly I stopped. Another 10 metres and I'd have said hello to the angels.

Bear with me 

Alicja Stephens, freestyle skier and owner of Ski Park Pow in Morzine, (skiparkpow.com)
Off-piste in Whistler, we wondered why there were no ski tracks off to the left despite there being so much fresh powder. We soon found out why. Separated from our group, my boyfriend, Simon, and I had gone too far to go back so we skied for as long as possible, until the trees were so tight we had to walk. Our boots smashed through the snow crust with every step, and crawling between the trees became our only hope. We had no phone signal and no visible exit. We were terrified and two hours late for the rendezvous.
Spurred on by darkness and a fear of hungry bears, we eventually came across a snowmobile trail but with no visible salvation in either direction. We mentally flipped a coin, turned right and eventually got to a solitary sign: 6km! Another desperately slow hour later, our exhausted friends caught us up; they'd been through the same ordeal. Six hours late, we made it to the bar. Hearing our tale, the locals told us about the skiers who never made it back from Whistler's notoriously dangerous Khyber Pass. We understood why!

Check your tickets

Katie Waddington, co-founder of Zenith Holidays (zenithholidays.co.uk
We recently had some customers who thought they had booked a last-minute holiday to Ibiza and didn't realise until they got to Geneva airport that they had booked a ski trip – they had packed shorts and T-shirts and spent the week reading on their balcony!
Compiled by Chris Moran, Gemma Bowes, Rachel Dixon, Susan Greenwood

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