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Published: April 17th 2008
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The final descent.
The Wall in Lake Louise. Sounds easy enough. What are those pretty diamond shapes? "I'm lovin' the terrain here at Lake Louise," I say.
"Yeah me too," agrees Tom. "These wide open motorway groomers make a nice change from the steep and deep of Fernie".
"And the views from this side of the mountain are superb!" exclaims Tim.
We all agree, Lake Louise's nicknames of Rock Louise and Lake Lousy seem somewhat unfounded and we decide to head higher up the mountain.
"Where too next? I ask, sliding to a stop.
"Well," says Tim, "we've seen quite a lot of this side of the mountain. Why don't we try over there?"
Tim points to the edge of the piste, which disappears vertically into an unknown world of flat light. All around are strange signs with double black diamonds on them. I cautiously peer over the edge and check out the terrain. I spot a few small dark objects scattered around, but other than that the terrain seems featureless.
"Well, I can't actually see much in this light", I say squinting, "but hey! We're friggin' Level 2! There should be nothing down there that we can't handle!" "Yeah!" shouts Tom. "Let's do it!" yells Tim.
After the obligatory high fives I
Taking a break.
A bag of ice, a few ibuprofen and a pitcher of beer. I'll be right as rain tomorrow. strap in, adjust my goggles and drop off the side. The slope was pretty steep with icey patches, and quite a few moguls seemed to crop up from nowhere, but once I got into a rhythm things got easier. All was going well. I could hear the scrape of Tim and Tom as they followed my line, and as I grew in confidence, so did my speed. And WHAM. All of a sudden the ground rose sharply and my legs buckled. I was propelled in the air, still confused as to what the hell was going on, and I landed in a heap with just about every body part facing the wrong way. And then the pain. Oh Holy mother of Fernie - it was that horrible, head back, eyes tight shut, teeth gritted, arms clutching at imaginary objects around me type of pain. And it was all in my right ankle.
The Tim and Tom show arrived a few seconds later, looking confused and a little embarrassed. As I shouted various swear words at the white sky, Tim asked the futile, but obvious question that we'd all ask in the same situation.
"You OK?"
"Nope." I
Arriving in Banff.
The theory was that the exercise might do my ankle some good. After a few minutes hobbling I wasn't so sure. strain, "No I definitely think I'm hurt"
The guys nod in agreement and escort me down to a nearby lift. And that was it, the end of my season right there. After three months of training I twist my friggin' ankle on a mound of snow. 10 minutes later and I'm being strapped into one of those stretchers we call a meat waggon, and a crazy skier who has been cooped up for too long in a patrol hut races down the remainder of the mountain at break neck speed. The rest of the day was spent on the deck of a slopeside bar in the sunshine with a bag of ice laid on my huge ankle and a beer in my hand.
So that's that. I had planned to stay another week in Lake Lousy (that nickname is now staying), followed by a trip to Vancouver to take advantage of the two feet of snow they've had in the last few days. But now I'm coming home.
The next day the remaining Nonstoppers went to Banff for the day to soak up the warm Spring sunshine. I managed to hobble around from shop to shop, and even
Time at the bar.
Time to rest at a bar with a sun trap. Absolute bliss. If it wasn't for the pricey beer I could've stayed there all day. make it to the top of a local hill to see a view of the town and the surrounding rockies. And that evening I really put it to the test by dancing like a dad at a wedding at a local club. I had planned on getting the 12.50am bus back to Lake Lousy but I ended up in an RV parked in a Safeway car park. It's a long story, but after no sleep, being freezing cold and an ankle the size of a melon hanging over the edge of 'sofa', I'm not in a hurry to relive the experience.
So there it is. My season is at an end. My flight is booked for Tuesday 15th April so should be in Swindon by the Wednesday. Then I have a couple of months to shake off my aches and pains and get fit again for the mountains of New Zealand. And I'm hoping England has become nice and quiet in my absence? No noise or chaos, no one rushing around, everyone smiling. Yes? Excellent!
See you soon then!
Lapster.
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