"Can you be-lieve it, eh?"

So this all started as just a ski trip, so I better share a bit more on that.  But wait - first there were a few moments of levity that really need to be memorialized.  All involve skiing, though that's debatable and I'm sure Andreas would strongly disagree.  I'm not sure I'll capture every detail, and unfortunately (or fortunately for some of us), the go-pro's were turned off.

MINE

The first that comes to mind, and the nearest and dearest to me, was a tumble I took mid-week.  I generally assumed the position of "papa bear" on the slopes - with Andreas in the lead of our large, 9-person posse, I positioned myself behind everyone else so that I could keep us together, gently keep people moving, and maybe assist anyone who may fall, lose a pole or ski, or whatever.

We stayed on-piste most of the week, but at one point Andreas took a small group off-piste for a short bit (though it was just barely off).  There was an icy, moguled slope we hit and I watched our group go down safely and took some video with my phone.  I waited too long to put my phone away and suddenly Andreas, Izzie, Alex, and (someone else?) were at the bottom staring at me.  I took off still putting my phone away, before I even had my poles separated.  Not sure what I was thinking, although whatever it was, I was thinking it with confidence!  Because the slope was steep, glazed in ice, and well-moguled.  And for some reason, I decided to begin my descent out of control.  And I never gained it.

Slicing back and forth the whole way down until I was maybe 30 yards above the group - my confidence then escaped me and I inexplicably laid back too far in a turn and began some awkward tumble sequence that I still can't understand.  It was like I layed on my back at who-knows-what-miles-per-hour, and then started rolling.  My skis stayed together and on my feet.  At one point in time, I remember looking up at the sky for a millisecond and seeing both skis rotate across the clouds, in perfect parallel symmetry.  I then landed on them and stood upright and made it to the bottom before the group stopped laughing at me.

On the gondola I asked Andreas to rate the mishap on a 1 to 10 scale, based on his many years of guiding casual skiiers.  He awarded me a 10, commenting that "at least it was graceful".  He also remarked that the move should have a name - backturn or something like that - but we didn't come up with a good one.

MY WIFE'S

I'm not sure how Suzy will feel about me sharing this one.  She is so thankful that there is no known video of the following circumstances.  I only have vague flashbacks of looking down a steep 15' slope while in a lift line, and seeing her laying on her stomach with skis and poles in tow, desperately (and I mean desperately) trying to climb up the snow bank to join the rest of us in the line.  But I'll try to piece together sufficient details.

OK - I'd intended to narrate the whole sequence - but the mental image of the above is really the punchline, so I won't clog up the blog with too much minutia.  Hopefully you get the gist.

She had stopped at a chalet to drop Paige and others off for a break, and then just missed the turn to the lift line where the rest of us were gathered in a bunch.  She did stop herself at the bottom of the hill just past the lift, which is where she found herself needing to climb the steep and snowy bank.

Many people were in the queue, and many enjoyed watching Suzy's adventure.  I probably wasn't the most noble husband because not only did I not scurry down the bank to help her, I'm not sure I even let anyone know I was acquainted with her.  (I'M JUST KIDDING - I WAS TOO FAR IN THE LIFT LINE TO BE ABLE TO HELP IN TIME).  Andreas of course took it in stride - "Help her, Alex," he said (in a way that I remember as kind of like Obi-Wan-Kenobe - "use the force, Luke..."), because Alex was closest to her.  And like a good son he did so.  The rest of us just watched her slowly crawl to the top, now with a bit of assistance.

She, too, made it up in time, back on her skis, to catch most of us still laughing.

KIRSTIN'S

Someone somewhere may still be laughing about this one, albeit in a different language.  I think it was before Suzy's mishap, but in the same lift line where Kirstin somehow reverted to the most novice of B-movie skiiers by sliding, on flat ground, and in slow motion - into the backside of a woman in front of her.  I actually only looked after they made physical contact, and then I still think I watched her advance in slow motion for another 2 minutes or so.  The woman probably thought she was being taken on a very short, slow, awkward ride.

Rob called it "reverse spooning", and I still can't figure out how after over 15 years of skiing Kirstin ended up in this unfortunately basic situation.  I know she can't either, although I think her laughing fit triggered it, and it definitely rendered her temporarily helpless until the woman must have bucked her off (or something - I still don't know how they eventually separated).

I wrote this section on the plane back, and am editing it a bit before work on Monday...sadly.  I've got a few more posts to share, as we're re-entering the real world.  Wait, were all of these wonderful people we just spent a week of our lives with just a dream?  Andreas, Erica, Romain, Ed, Suzanne... Poppy??  Somehow, I think the real versions of them were better than any dream could have created... and Zermatt as well.  The skiing, maybe not so much because of the wind.  But the negative of that was far overcome with the rest of the experience.....