Halfway through the morning I was waiting for my group to catch up, wondering if there’d be any dingaling moments and if none occurred, what I could do to try and inspire some later on. And then it hit me.
No ideas, just a girl shaped missile who misjudged her stop, lost her balance and skied straight into me before falling into a heap on the snow. This girl is the only member of this weeks group not to get given the desired prize and today she was on a mission to get one, and that crash was just the start. She also skied into a fence, skied into a snow bank and proclaimed that the shadow of the gondola looked like a boob. But none of these things were worthy winners today.
We had more lift disasters today as well, starting with the only boy of the group getting in a tangle on the T bar. Deciding that he was better off alone he was venturing up on his Larry when all of a sudden, the bar slipped up from behind his bum. This wouldn’t have ended half as badly if he wasn’t wearing a bag, but he was, and so it got caught in the straps of that bag. When he finally lost his duel to regain control and fell over, that wasn’t the end of his ascent. The bar stuck in the bag, caught him like a fish and dragged him up a further twenty metres. I did feel slightly sorry for him as he helplessly squirmed for freedom, but that was just a shade of how funny I found it.
The other brilliant failure came as a result of our first ride on the chairlift. All the kids were so thrilled that they could finally go on a lift which also served as a brief rest, and they must have got caught up in their celebrations as they forgot that eventually it would come to an end. One poor little girl fell victim to this mistake as when the time came to get off, she forgot to remove her skis from the footrest and so when it was raised, her feet went with it and flipped her backwards off the lift, flinging her around before she landed in a heap on the floor.
Her afternoon then deteriorated further on the way back down. This girl has extremely fragile confidence and despite being a fairly good skier, every time she gets to a new run or a steep run or a run she hasn’t done, she will start to cry. The first blue we did, she cried, the first red we did, she cried, the red after that, she cried. Having promised her that we wouldn’t do anything harder than the testing red run we had already done, a slight navigational error on my behalf broke that promise. In an effort to avoid another T bar I decided that an easy blue down to the chairlift was a much better option and herded the kids down. It was all going well as we meandered down the run with the kids happily cruising down thinking nothing of it, and then it started to get a bit steeper and a bit narrower. Halfway down I noticed that it wasn’t a blue, not even a very dark blue, but a black. The experienced level pistes that groups this level should never have to go down. I knew that if this one girl noticed this colourful fact that it would be an instant breakdown and ruin the progress she was making. So we barely stopped and kept making our way down and it was all going well. We got down the narrow part and we got down the steep part slowly and then, fifty metres from the end, at the top of the final, steepest pitch we had a little rest and inevitably, someone pointed out the true colour of the piste markers. Then there was no going back. This nervous girl who had just skied down the majority of a tough black run with no issues realised what the run really was and began to panic. All assurance flew out the window dragging her technique with it and after one turn she froze on the side of the slope. Then the whimpering came and then the crying started and the perfect run was ruined. Stuck on the snow she refused to move and to try and ski down and after minutes of negotiating and encouraging, after another failed turn I helped her side slip down.
After a chairlift ride up spent reminding her of her achievement she realised what she had skied and that she wasn’t half bad on the slopes and once she glided off the lift without doing a backflip, she started getting very excited. So excited in fact, she started weeing everywhere. She weed across the slope, she weed on both sides of the slope, weed as she skied down the slope and just weed all over the place. This sounds awful and disgusting but I do not mean any form of excretion due to overexcitement, just the word “wee” being screamed whilst her arms waved above her head as she celebrated her achievement. It must’ve sounded very agreeable in French.