On the way in to Heathrow, I see the field of geese again, and recall that last year they were splashing about in the rain - though perhaps these are the new Christmas dinner stock? Slow transit through the "Fast Track" during which, along with some Americans, I redesign the security process. For the first time the BA iPhone app has actually worked and I'm trying out the mobile boarding pass - causing a certain amount of interest amongst the security staff. Biz class so breakfast on the plane is really good - a complete surprise. At Munich I check carefully for any people to avoid and go downstairs to put my feet up on one of the squashy leather sofas and read for an hour, before going to the meeting point. At this point, as I'm the only person in the entire airport with a pair of skis it's not hard for Chris to spot me and come over to say hello. More people appear eventually and I'm delighted to see Michelle and Andrea again, and Andrew Denton. Lisa and Pete (blue) with their giant sausage ski bag have to get the train(s)/bus(es) and appear half-way through dinner.
Dinner is a major buffet of multiple bits of pork and dumplings of all kinds and it's good to see proper serving wenches. Brian appears just as I'm going for more food and gives me a big hug. I wonder if he's going to surf the pudding and cheeseboard before sitting down, but he doesn't, at least not on the first night.
Sunday
I haven't seen any sign of the lively kitten that was here last year.
The weather does not look good from the bottom and and still isn't good when we emerge from Gletscherbus 3 at 3250m. In fact there is no sign of any mountains - just whitey grey with what might be a piste over there somewhere. We do the usual wobbly first run down from the top and are segregated into groups by John and Ian. Then we do some basic drills to remind ourselves what skiing is. We make some effort to ski, but it is pretty bad and after lunch, most people call it a day and are in the bar by 2.30. (obviously someone must have told me that). I find them keeping warm in a downstairs corner. Four beers and a couple of schnapps later and the bus back to the hotel is doing the party thing - music on and flashing its lights.
The seven course dinner of tiny bits on giant white plates went on and on...for 2.5 hours, Brian taking a short cut by incorporating pudding and cheese into the first course.
Usual help-yourself-salad-and-everything-else
Smoked duck breast
Parmesan foam with polenta dumpling
Roast goose breast
Pineapple something
Chocolate almond brownie?
Cheese again
See, I remembered
Mon
At breakfast, a lovely tabby cat that must have been last year's bouncy kitten is sitting on a ledge outside watching us.
The sky has brightened slightly, well, enough to be able to see the snow. There are lots of groups of ski and snowboard instructors being trained - the Danish ones have the nicest outfits; some others you could never work for if you had to wear their colours.
It is perfect powder, good skiing and everyone seemed to be performing really well - even me - which is astonishing. We are so good that Ian took us out for another hour after lunch. There's a lot more snow and it's much lower down than last year, so the run from the Tuxerfernerhaus down to Sommerbergalm at 2100m was a tough but really nice end to the day's skiing. Well, we had to get to the bar by 4pm.
It snows all night.
Tue
I go goggle shopping with Andrea on the way down to the bus. Her Avalung rucksack sets off the shop's alarm on the way in and they virtually strip-search her before accepting that she hasn't actually nicked anything and in fact came in to buy something, but not before she is made to turn her spare pants out of the rucksack. It is pretty good weather again and there's fabulous deep powder, so today just has to start with a plunge into the stuff off-piste. For me this means getting first my jacket and then my trousers full of snow. I get down it with no style whatsoever. It is tiring. Maybe I need some chocolate?
The theme at the Hohenhaus is leather shorts and studs (not the band who look a bit milk-fed, just their shorts). Maybe that's why at dinner the first of several recurring discussions about men's underwear starts. Specifically M&S BodyMax pants.
At dinner, 1970s films. Again it snows all night.
Wed
It's still snowing and it's COLD! Really cold up at the top, minus 20, I cannot fit anymore layers under my jacket, and we can barely see to get down the first red. I fall and whack my head on the ground - which does nothing good after last night. There was a plan for trying race gates and Ian has carted 25kg of plastic pole up the mountain, but there's general agreement that the gates are not a good idea and can we go inside now please before we get frostbite.
Only kept from freezing to death by hot chocolate with rum.
We do venture out later and potter about in the fog.
After dinner, there's a certain amount of table banging, shouting and lots of peanuts in the hotel bar whilst we develop sports marketing strategies.
Thur
At last, brilliant sun! so the racing is back on.
Ian takes the red-jacketed ones through some drills to develop focus and steadiness and we all seem to be skiing really well.
Maybe it is being able to see the snow properly for the first time? I am really pleased with myself. After lunch Steve and I go back to the Kaserrer 1 to try and master the piste that is like off-piste. As the sun goes below the hill at about 2.30 it is soon extremely cold.
In the bar we have no time for inspecting the agricultural implements because tonight is the big night at the Hohenhaus, instead of Helmut aus Mallorca, we have Olaf Henning aus somewhere else, with Helmut on video :
In the absence of Neil, there is no-one to have their clothes removed. Instead, Michelle holds two men prisoner. John tries and fails to leave the bar three times. The ladies' loo confuses me completely (I must have only used the gents last year). We have to walk back to the hotel and discuss 'favourite 70s TV shows.
We go straight in to dinner from the bar (singing apparently) at about 8pm leaving a huge pile of boots and rucksacks in the hall and Rich's skis in a flower bed. The American flag napkins on the table remind us that it's Thanksgiving and so it's another meat-fest. I can't get the xylophone version of Star Spangled Banner I once heard out of my head. Chris is persuaded to eat an "Italian tomato" and turns the same colour, as it's not a tomato it's a fireball of a chilli. More marketing strategy and ladies' underwear discussions (for a change) in the bar afterwards.
Fri
The entire day is a whiteout. Survival skiing rules.
In the Hohenhaus by 3pm with Michelle for what is meant to be a quick drink to warm up but turns into a lengthy session.
Sat
An intense disussion of mens' pants continues most of the way to the airport. This is because we all think the driver might kill us on the motorway. I look at cars and wonder what to buy for Switzerland.
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