Wierdos of Telemark and other stories

totally knackered after piloting the LDV back from Loch Lomond at the heady speeds of at least 49mph...the Drooper trip to Kenmere was calling so I cast my raft off from the jetty of appathy and set set sail into the sea of excitement

in other words, I got in my mum's car and drove off down the m74

However, I did have my illustrious co pilot for company and stimulating conversation. She was tired and moody and me, bein incredibly attuned to such things, tried to enliven the journey by quizing her on her favourite sexual positions. That was in the Borders. The silence was akin to US-Soviet realtions circa 1963 and lasted at least to Carlisle which she rather hillariouly mispronounces car-liss

have invented a new game of cunning evilness and childish stupidity... giving out the wrong advice re. english pronounciation so now we have "honestly" without the silent h...hhhonest guv

anyway, by the time we reached the hut at Kentmere (nearly burning the clutch out in the way) most of the republic of Drooper was either 1. asleep 2. sleepy

we had time to dole out the leftover Conic Hill whisky and swap venison recipes with Mr Lees before enduring an intense night of hypothermia in the tropical camping barn...trying to think warm whilst avoiding condensation drips... oh for a good old Norwegian snow hole (much cheaper too!)

Sunday morining started bright and not very early and was a good chance to meet up with all the sleepers from the night before and catch most of the London bound crew before their early departures..
shame coz the weather down in the Lakes was utterly gorgeous...sunny cloudless skies and sixty mile views in all directions

so me, Iza and Annett went off to do the Kentmere Horse (the rest of the Drooper gang did the whole Horseshoe on Satrday - though that seemed to add to the sleepiness of the hut on Saturday eve as much as Natalie, Richard and Fiona's gorgeous cooking) so we chomped off (sans-map) off up to Mardale Head, where I left my glasses to be a not very tasty or even particularly healthy verson of sheep foodso if you see some wooly bleaters with 20:20 vision and a sore stomache in the eastern Lake District please let me know...

Al, Iza, Paivi and Annett at the end of the trip in Kentmere

last weekend of January 2006... no snow on Conic Hill (not a big surprise as it's only 300m high) and a mere skittering on Ben Lomond and a wee crown of whiteness on Ben Ime (circa 1050m) in the Arrochar Alps over on the far side of Loch Lomond. The last weekend of January should at least have white capped hills as far as the eye can see all over the Highlands but this year it's a winter drought and the hills are a pale shade of smudgy brown - even under the sharp clear blue winter skies...

it was the 2nd WS trip of the year - featuring a minibus load of US and Swedish execs and engineers in town for a company jolly and under our guidance for some fun in the hills and hangover clearance. Of course, the two greenest delegates didnt even make it all the way along Corstorphine Road before the previous evenings beer and kebabs brigtened up the pavements by Murrayfield. The rest of them had an ace time and all managed to get up the lofty hights of Conic Hill to share a bottle of Glen Moray in the icy wind before legging it down to the Oak Tree Inn on the shores of Loch Lomond at Balmaha

of course, by the time I got back into Edin I wasnt really in the mood for a 3 hour car drive down to Kentmere in the Lakes

It's Saturday night...

am 1?
a) hoovering in vast amounts of ale out there in the numerous bars of clubs of Edinburgh

b) making love to a European princess with a sexy accent and come to bed eyes

c) lying on the settee peering over my quivering beer belly at the skis leaning against the lounge wall

.... no contest there!

The Lounge...a ski tour
Left to right
1. Elan x-country 215cm with sns bindings, blue, various scars and craters as well as some decades old wax on the underside ... purchased from an Oslo jumble sale for 35kr. back in Feb 1997 - these were my faves for endless trips alone around the Nordmarka forest after work... meters of snow, prepared tracks and just the silence of the woods and a few moose for company

2. Random 1970s downhill planks 180cm - found in the hall cupboard during a previous broke period which produced a random urge to sell everything in the flat not bolted down at Ingliston car boot sale in order to fund a trip to the Lakes

3. Salomon SR7 downhill planks 185cm - these were canine testicles just a few years ago but have now been superceded by carvers as the skis to have. However they are purple

4. Dynastar telemark/mountain touring skis 215cm - these were the first skis I actually bought new with my own money and have cable bindings - the best trips with these skis all took place at Steinar's Oppheim Leikestova skibums commune house (complete with extreme women drought) - the pick of which has to be the trip up some almost 2000m peak to the south of Jotumheimen which took all day to skin up, have a painfully short cup of tea in the icy wind complete with a desperate conversaition about aforementioned lack of women in our lives just before spotting the 2 figures skiing across the lake still in view, our outrageously imaginative pondering about who they could be (acresses, weather girls, heiresses, independently weathly eco warriors etc etc) - Steinar then belting down the hill through the deep powder, glowing crimson with an awesome sunset, me following witha few wipeouts along the way... just in time to meet up with - a couple of very fit 70 year old grandmas out for a ski...
oh - and the golden eagle which buzzed the car as we drove back through Hemsedal afterwards made the trip immense!

5. Head 185 planks - purchased off the glorious ebay with the intention of being the house rock and heather and frozen grouse skis for use in Scotland. Tried and tested by Izabella during the 2nd New year skiing snow patches at Cairgorm day

6. Carvo carver skis 180cm - bought last year of ebay as an experiment - completed with a lonely pair of Rottefella toe clip bindings found after many years at the bottom of my underwear drawer... these are ace for piste skiing and definitey make the whole telemarking thing a million times easier. With these skis, I may even master this elusive technique if I get myself reincarnated a few hundrd times

7. Steinar sin blå ski - these are my favourites - not as easy to ski on as the carvers, but they have style! Steinar won these in some downhill telemark race (Alperittet Stranda possibly) and immediately painted them with blue matt emulsion paint... so they woud be the last to get nicked during on piste emergency piste stops
- the best trip on these is undoubtedly the Galdhoppigenrennet race in 98, when I didnt even manage to come last (was last individual but beat a couple of teams) - this is the race from near the top of Norways highest mountain down to the Spiterstulen hut in teh valley below - about 1000m - there's no piste or lift system so you have to walk up and the route is steep and scary (97 race had a rather disturbing large blood stain half way down). I walked up with Steinar, Erik and the gang - had to wait a while on the top, for my latest start number, getting psyched out by the enourmous steep bits, rocks etc as well as the speed some of these norskies were getting up to (down in circa 2 minutes)...

31 minutes later and one unexpected meeting with a silver birch down near the finish and I was as hyper as a three year old in a vat of red bull and completely in love with this skiing malarky

8. Green Tua Blade telemark skis - another ebay purchase though in fact I was after the bindings (stick em on the carvers in time for Courchevel - SIX WEEKS TO GO!)... however, this snow shortage will be over by then...

and there'll be some stories to tell!

from the archives of course...(distinct lack of snow at the moment!)

English based Droopers - get the vomit buckets out!
This is a story loosely based on the real and completely unimagined trip to Glenshee we had yesterday You have to admit that Edinburgh has the edge over Sunny Staffs when it comes to short distance to snow covered hillsides, basking in a weak winter sun and caressed by the faintest hint of spring in the slightest breeze (tell a lie there the wind was from the North and was fooking cold)

The particiPANTS: Mason, Haber, Vicky, Nicky and Jen plus a long lost soul from the initial Drooper membership list, Mr Mark Jones (who once was a fellrunner but now is a hard working father whose rapid dose of cranial expose is getting positively Haberesque).

The venue Glas Maol, above Glenshee, the 69th highest hill in the land and is rather shapely and rounded just like the cathedral at Brest-Litovsk. We could mention the sunny weather, snow covered hills in almost all direction and the fantastic on piste skiing you could sneak yourself if you were daft enough top attach a couple of Telemark skis to your rucksac but the real event of the day has to be the secret polybagging course discovered by our Mr Mason under the dubious pretext of a bit of ice axe practice.

Low friction shit off a titanium shovel in a vacuum might do it justice. I wendied out of course due to the urgent need for skiing and found half a hare (a flap of skin, bit of leg and maybe some liver) just after completing an unprecedented 4 consecutive telemark turns, but Mason managed to hit terminal bivi bag velocity and steer a course though the pile of rocks at the bottom of the snowy gully called the poly bag run.

What a doss!

So if you have the URGE ( a pleasant tasting but foul looking Norwegian soft drink) then get your arses up here coz there is snow in them there hills and I have a room load of spare skis and Mason has a bivy bag with holes in and a wild look in his eyes.

here's reminising about missing the mountains, from another time (post-Norway pre-Scotland)

..the journey was great - at the crack of dawn I set forth negotioating the quiet streets of whittington with all the reflexes of a zombie (with a hangover), pausing only to get the paper (quality liberal broadsheet of course) and speed read The Sport while Mrs Pearce wasn't looking.

It took exactly 4mins 43 secs for me to chance upon a wide enough gap in the Tamworth (pronounced Tam-wuff to those from WS14) bound traffic jam and to head exitedly of Lichfield where I waited exactly 4 mins 43 secs at the Birmingham Road traffic lights and 4 mins 43 secs at the Shoulder of mutton x-roads before the lanes to shenstone and the lure of the nose-to-tail-43.4 kmph - open - road carried me away into commuter dream land.

At Stonnall I had to wait exactly 4mins 43 sec to find a wide enough gap in the Birmingham bound traffic jam on the Chester Road and i crawled excitedly past the garden centres, Porsche garages, and curry empori of the West Midlands suburbs, while the sky steadily brightened from a lush shade of grey to an even lusher shade of grey.

At Steetly i had to wait exactly 4 mins 43 secs for a green light to turn right up to the immense altitudes of Barr Beacon (195m above sea level) where out of my spotless windscreen I could see all the way to Walsall and even West Bromwich (it was good air quality that day you see).

From the Beacon I rolled down to Great Barr where I waited exacly 4mins 43 sec to cross the a443 past on to Great Barr High School where I got stuck behind a whole herd of 4x4 housewife transporters doing the school run, for considerably longer than 4mins 43 secs.

By the time I pulled into the car park at Perry Barr I was late as normal, got stuck in the lift for 4mins 43 secs, and got thrown out of the system while logging in, but being the career orientated yuppie I am, was immediatedly assigned to the top secret Special Duties Filing Team where the main intellectual stimmunltaion of the millenium was....

does the Fuckpiece and Firkin come after the Fed Up and Firkin?
(For the journey home reverse the first paragraph)

jealous? (who me?) who said anyone was jealous and longing for endless slopes of deep powder, cruiseing though snow clad trees in perfectly executed telemark turns.........

Drooper New Year 05/06
******
A summary:
32 Droopers (1 Scot, 1 Finn, 0.5 Swede, 1 Pole, 2 French, 1 German, 1 Canadian, 24.5 English)
136 bottles of wine (102 red, 34 white)
circa 600 assorted beer bottles
2 real ale kegs
10 assorted single malts
1 bottle of sherry
1 ceilidh
1 animal sounds quiz
7 gorgeous dinners
1 hot tub
7 days of excitement in gloriously cold crispy weather...
12mm of snow on Cairngorm

which brings us to...

MJ teaches Al to Telemark on Cairngorm - New Years Eve
************
Just like every other morning in the hut, Shane is up at the crack of Dawn and has gone Munro Bagging on his own, Duncan and Karen have gone too, Custard is grouchy coz he wants to be out there too but cant afford to be more than 10m from the nearest flushable porcelain and I have loudly woken him up at 07.00 from his only consecutive 10 minute slumber in the whole night... still we had to be up early as today is teh big international x country ski expedition to that deep powder heaven known as the Cairngorms...

Monsieur Bagette is representing la France, Trish: la Suede, me and Al: l'Angleterre, Izabella: la Polande - however a quick stop at the Loch Morlich bacon sarnie shop... "Och, there's nae snae, pal!" and Bagette and Trish have bailed and decide to go for a more constructive walk in the Rothiemurcus forest instead

We finally get our skiing wigs* on in the Cairngom carpark at 11.00 -there is indeed no snow - in fact the surrounding hills are looking a decididly semi frozen mid winter brown and the car park is looking as uninspiring as...er... a carpark. We try to avoid unwanted attention and comments from saner member of the human race as we load up the skis and wander up through the ski centre towards to snowiness of the Fiachaille ridge leading up to the plateau

A couple of hours, 14 drinks stops and numerous stories from the achieves featuring nakedness and reindeers to keep Izabella entertained and we are on the plateau... Al spots a relatively rock-free snow patch and the heavy badly balanced rucksacs with skis seem to be worth it...

Telemarking Instruction MJ style
1. see this ski...it clips onto your boot at the toe
2. see that slope - just head downhill
3. see those rocks - best shut your eyes as it hurts less

Al is the perfect Telemark pupil as he learns to wipeout in an uncontrolled manner complete with the required ammount of yeee-ha!-ing, banshee shrieking and insane laughter. Learning to turn comes in lesson 16.4 (year 16, term 4) so we don't bother. However, Al does a passable arse-out snow plough a couple of time without falling over so he is a good bet to master the turn before the collapse of western society as we know it.

More importantly, Al has the video camera...

However, after a couple of very entertaining telemark moves down the scary icy slope of death (at least a green run), catching the attention of numerous intrigued mountaineers and a RAF mountain rescue helicopter, we decide to head up to Cairngorm (well it is a Munro after all!).

A SHOCK AT THE TOP
shock a) we are not alone in our ski induced insanity... a couple of ski-mountaineers and a telemarker have skinned up from Loch Etchecan and are beaming with excitement about having found snow on such a gorgeous winter's day
shock b) we meet Roystar, Pete and Lizzie on the summit... not that unusual to meet fellow Droopers on the summit of hills, but these 3 had taken the train up! De-schpicable! Remind us to get a bigger Drooperbrew bucket!

Anyway, with a setting sun on the way and a suitable Drooper audience at hand, we decide to head off down Cairngorm into the ski centre... much hillarity and wiping-out ensues - mostly filmed by Al. He also mananges quite a few face first wipeouts as well as some scrotum torturing splits-type mannouvers... he even manages to film himself wiping the snow off the lens after the penultimate wipe-out.. we headed down the easy blue ziz-zag run, which consisting of a couple of mm of snow on top of an icy base, is proving to be an excellent telemark training venue. Well maybe not. But we do manage to get down the hill equally as far as the the 3 other skiers who had longe since left us behind.

Competitive Spirit Rangers 4.
Intelligence and Better Judgment United 0.

Wiping out on icy ruts, frozen footpints and rocks hurts. Gives you carpet burns in places best left unmentioned in fact.

We disembark from the telemarks after 3 hours of adrelanine induced entertainment and head back down the hill totally hyper, hungry and armed with an enourmous beer thirst...

...and an urge to see in 2006 with haggis neaps and tatties and the World Famous in Laggan Animal Sounds Quiz

Fookinace!