Torino 2006....

...is the name of the 2006 Winter Olympics, and where I have been snowboarding (again) for the past week.

I ventured to these parts with the ex-girlfriend, Emma (those of you following my blog will have encountered her along the way) and her parents. Some people asked me why I was still going on the skiing holiday that we had booked some time ago. Well, why not?

Anyway..... The conditions on the first two days on the slopes wasn't ideal - particularly for snowboarding - very icy! Especially while I was still getting to grips with a snowboard that seemed to be designed for a different sport altogether than the one I was using the previous week. The highlight was probably my near death, where I slid off the edge of the piste and ended up cartwheeling at speed backwards down the hill through the trees - I could see the trees flashing past and I tumbled down trying to use my arms in a futile attempt to be the first point of impact in the certain collision with a tree. Luckily I finally landed on my head in a nice big mound of snow at the bottom the slope and quickly zipped around the corner to join the group - the only evidence of the event being snow in every inch of my body, but I looked like that most of the week anyway.

The 'home' resort in which we were accommodated was called Sauze-D'Oulx and was part of the greater array of resorts known as the Vialattea (milky way).

On day three we caught the bus over to the Clavier resort and I enjoyed a great half a day of boarding (despite losing our group when I came acropper on a J-bar). I went down probably the best run I saw all week about 6 times - each time at increasing speed with heavier and nastier falls, finally resulting in a coccyx too painful to be able to bend at the waist. So I sat out the rest of the afternoon next to a fire with a latte in one hand and a cheesy-olive-tomato-bread italian thing in the other.

Day four (Thursday - and Australia Day) was when the temperature plummeted and the misty light snow set in.... It was -13 at the bottom of the mountain around the hotel - what it was another 1000m higher with the blizzard blowing, I shiver to recall. Day five was another bus ride to a different resort in France known as Serre Chevalier and the highest peak I have encountered since South America. Pique Lyrett was 2800m, almost 1800m higher than the resort. To get to the top I had to traverse across the edge of another mountain (unable to see the edge of the cliff due to the blizzardy conditions). But I finally got to the top, and after my customary arms raised above the head when I find the highest point, I boarded the rest of the way back down the mountain. It was possibly the greatest 40 minutes of snowboarding I've had yet - racing down the mountain at full speed through deep pristine white powder. It may have been an illusion caused by excessive endorphins but I recall the sun shining on the glinting snow as I sped across it.

Only a short session on Saturday as the visibility was close to zero again, and the slopes were packed with italian weekend holiday makers - still managed a couple of good runs and wipeouts though.

Back in London Towne again now - I wasn't to sullen as I arrived back in London this time as I felt a small home-coming sensation. That quickly turned into uncontrollable rage as I was confronted with a seemingly endless parade of incompetent Englanders (actually just two, but I was operating on 3 hours sleep from the night before and wasn't in the mood for it).

In other news, my new life goal is to work for the WHO, have I mentioned this before? Second in line is self-sufficient farmer and third is global government dictator.

28 days left of Winter........