Summer 2013 had come and gone. Followed by a short yet long wait for, you’ve guessed what: winter.
I decided to prolong the sun and the heat an extra month by visiting Swedish friend, chef and photographer Pelle, also known as Blanco, who’s winter residence happens to be Canarian surf island, Fuerteventura.
It had been years of talk and stories from Pelle before I finally decided to come and visit this lunar looking land shaped by volcanoes and tides. An month of 25 ºC+, sun, surf and good times.
View over lunar like land scape and Fuerteventura’s north shore from atop of a volcano near Coralejo town.
Puertito, “isolated” village and it’s lagoon on Lobos island just off the shores of Fuerte.
A good move, as October and November actually passed in a blink of an eye…From blazing sun and board shorts, straight to cold temperatures and snow. Winter had made it back before I had. And what a pleasant surprise that was. Excitement rushed through the whole of my body and it was not long before I geared up and went out to play.
Time had come to wake up those dormant senses and leg muscles.
There’s something really special, magical in way, about the first run of a winter season. It could not compare to the previous one I had experienced back in La Grave, but was just as gratifying nonetheless.
The season was looking promising and I was getting fired up ! Snow kept falling steadily, the trees were staking up snow and I was out to charge through them. Tree skiing is one of my top favourite, high doses of attention and reflexes are required to travel through them, specially in our local pine forests that happen to be quite dense. They’re a great place to go on a windy day.
Time pressed on and a year came to pass. A night of folly for most but I had something else in mind.
Instead of greeting the new year with a stinking hangover, I chose to have an early night and start the next planet’s cycle around the sun by greeting it with my arms wide open. Clear minded. A refreshing experience to start the year and the day. Work wouldn’t be half as hard for me as it would for the rest of my colleagues , the thought put a smile to my face.
The catering world is pretty intense and after eleven years as a chef the spark was lost. Burned out. Time had come for a change and I needed time to think. Why not work as a shaper at my home resort snowpark. Great idea, getting paid to shovel snow around and ski doesn’t sound too bad. Sounds like fun, and it is, for a while. Turns out the shovelling has the upper hand over the skiing. Snow keeps falling, you keep shaping, and a whole lot of lines get skied by others. Meanwhile you watch, asking yourself what the hell I’m I doing with this stupid shovel in my hand?
Getting the circus up and running for all them clowns I suppose…I was starting to feel like a circus freak myself.
Who could predict what was in store for me next ? Not I.
Obviously the lack of riding and excess shovelling was getting to me. I was frustrated, hungry to get out there. 9:40 am the next day, first run, like a bull charging into the ring, I drop in.
Poor judgement of the snow pack, lack of warm up run and overall fitness led to disaster. In a blink of an eye it was over, like an elastic band under too much stress my ACL snapped. As I rolled head over heels I felt as the whole world crashed down on me. I came to a stop, the pain kicked in.
Looked up, then realised how lucky I had just been. I had dodged every single rock that would have made that fall much worse.
I felt like a jerk. What was I thinking? Not much by looks of it.
Lesson learnt the hard way.
Oh well, see you next year….