Posted on: 2020-02-26 09:13:10 by davidof

So ski fitness

Hypster’s gotta brand new bag

So the trips with the local alpine club turned out to be as fun as a visit to a German dentist on a trip from Latin America. Is it safe? you still remember the words as you looked at a windloaded slope and tried to do the Munter calculation in your head. Think of a number, divide it by the avalanche risk, multiply by the number of skiers in the group, divide by the slope angle and take away the number you first thought of. Hang on that’s not it. #confusion #mentalarithmetic #altitude

[Photo: Dynafit / Speedfit Collection]

Still that airbag thing you’d schlepped up 1400 meters of climbing should get you out of trouble. Only it didn’t for Sam who’d forgotten to attach his crotch strap and ended up having his arms ripped off, or Biffo who couldn’t reach his handle as he was spun around like a puppy in a tumble drier. He was buried under 6 meters of snow. The PGHM had to bring in a JCB to recover his body. Then there was Janet, she pulled on the handle and… ping! a big fat nothing as she’d missed the nth recall for a faulty firing pin. #doubt #fear #squeakybum

The trips were nothing like the brochure. Climbing at 200 meters per hour with the Buena Vista Social Security club to some desolate mountain pass where you’d picnic for an hour while Mavis located her false teeth. Then skiing down at 2 mph in manky, windblown snow. #techbinding #lockout #spiralfracture

So you’ve got a brand new bag. Ski fitness, speed touring, uphill resort skiing, whatever. You’ve repurposed your freerando gear to a sport that is trending, young, dynamic. Oh how they mocked when you blew 2000 euros on all that gear. Now you’ll show them. Plus you get to ditch that airbag rucksack, avalanche spade and probe that were like a monkey on your back. You head out before or after work to the local resort. There you join hundreds of other frustrated gig workers taking it out on the snow. Getting rid of their stress. You can admire their tight pants and aerodynamic helmets as the headlamps dance in the still night air like a reverse torchlight descent. #workout #decompression #zenitude

No lift lines for you, no siree! The days when you’ll queue up for 20 minutes while idiots ski over the back of your brand new skis or jabbing you with their poles only to see a couple of people head up on an 8 man chair because Lena can’t be separated from Lana who wants to chat to Paul. No more 60 euro lift tickets and no more old crusties from the alpine club with their crappy backcountry tours and homespun wisdom. This is getting back to the roots of ski resorts. You are a man, alone, with the mountain. #okayboomer #fuckcompanydesalpes #strand

You wake up. You are in a clinical white room. A nurse asks if you are “okay deary”. Last thing you remember was ripping the brand new corduroy in the night air and looking down at the glimmering lights of the local town, then a row of blinding lights like an Swiss geisterfahrer bearing down on you. You remember the climb up, the noise of the snow canon like low flying jets, then Janet (who’d recovered from her avalanche) getting whopped by cable attached to a piste groomer. Piste groomer, that was it, the noise, you’d come around a bend and… well that would explain the plaster casts on your arms and legs. #WTF #recovery #hospital

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