I’m kicking this off by admitting that we got a little bit [more] naughty this week. But cheekiness aside, we had to say goodbye to yet another chalet host, fellow snowboarder and original member of the team. I’m beginning to get the feeling that we’re dropping like flies. By the end of this week only half of the original team remained.
Okay, so sad news first. Allen broke his wrist and had to be sent back to Spain as he was unable to continue work.
BUT… At least he went out with a bang.
On Wednesday a group of us chose for the first time ever to ski/board to Pas. The bus from El Tarter to Pas de la Casa used to take a good twenty minutes so for beginners it was quite a substantial trek to make across a mountain.
And guess what… the weather was gross. All week it had been stunning but come Wednesday we were lucky if we found our hands right in front of our faces.
Gabs and I would not be deterred though. It took us around three hours (us being the slowest of the group) but we made it. Coming over that slope and seeing Pas sprawled beneath us was mind blowing. I remember saying to Pash back at the start of the season that I would be happy just to make it from Tarter to Soldeu. Which is a fraction of the distance I accomplished by making it to Pas.
After a quick drink and a bite to eat some of us started to board back, which was probably a bad idea. We were tired, the weather was worse than it was before and we were all making stupid mistakes. Procrastinating at the ice hotel was not going to get us home though. I tackled one of the red runs home on my bum with no grip at all. I literally slid from top to bottom, scrabbling at the
snow ice with my fingertips… crying.
After that I was beginning to wish I had stayed in Pas getting bladdered with Gabs.
Nothing else major happened until our last run home. A run that we had all done a thousand times with our eyes closed. Allen skated over the top of notoriously icy patch and fell. And we all knew it was bad.
He just didn’t get back up.
Was it his back? His head? But he’s holding his arm. Fuck… He’s broken his arm.
The mountain was closing, even the lifties were making their way back down. Fortunately there was a guy right near us when it happened and he rang for the blood wagon.*
When JoJo, Jon and I made it to the medical center to meet Allen we discovered that, sure enough, he had broken a bone… in his wrist. What a fucker. He had only recently purchased his own snowboard.
We got him drugged up on pain killers and sent him to bed. It was all we could do. After a chat with the boss it was clear that he was unable to continue work whilst in plaster. We were sad to see you go, Allen. The place just wasn’t the same without you.
Gabs crawled into my room at lunchtime the next day with a stonking hangover and an even bigger guilty conscience… but I’d have been disappointed if it had been any other way.
Now, onto dinner! Who knew you could lie your way into a 4* hotel for a full on buffet dinner? Well… I guess I kinda did, since I’ve made a habit of gate crashing M&Ds all inclusive holidays for the last year.
But this time was different. We just went in and asked if we could eat in the restaurant if we paid. They asked us if we were Neilson staff and without hesitating we said ‘yes!’ Who wouldn’t?
Hey presto, FREE DINNER. Only now we had the taste for glorious selections of salad and meat that we could only dream about in the chalets. And OBVIOUSLY we had to try our luck a second time.
Mr 4*hotel owner… sorry, not sorry. We ate all your food.
Week 14 probably definitely will contain chalet girls getting partially nude.