Sunday, February 18, 2007

,Poma Problems

02/18/2007

Jean Pomajalski has had a lot to answer for over the years. When first this engineer of dubious origin set up shop in Grenoble to satisfy the need for mad English to rise uphill without effort, prior to throwing themselves back down snow covered slopes with waxed Hazel boards nailed to their hiking boots, little did he realise that he, almost alone amongst men would chop The Baron Trollaigh down to size. I should explain that dearest Dottie and I have been inveigled out to Austria, within a mile or two of the very spot where we spent our idyllic honeymoon so many years ago, indeed almost to the anniversary date. As part of our preparations for this trip we were advised, in the absence of the white stuff in Glencoe, to visit Xscape near Glasgow where a two hundred meter indoor snow slope would give some much needed practice. Apart from the mile or so one has to walk from the motor, (now returned with some new wiring) and a large crowd of school children enjoying their mid term holidays, it was all remarkably civilized. However, Jean P had the last laugh as yours trurely fell on his arse half way up the first uplift powered by JP’s devilish wheels, wire, string and candle apparatus that has not changed for almost a century and is well know as highly dangerous to many an old telemarker. To add insult to injury, as I struggled to right myself from a snowy capsize, a sallow youth of about eighty years swept smoothly to a halt alongside and with great concern offered a hand to pull the Corpse Baronial to a vertical state. Such shame! However, after dearest Dottie recovered from a fit of hysterical laughter we made good use of our hour’s practice and several unused muscles received a mild workout. The rather painful climb from the changing rooms to the surface of the planet made it easy to forgo the “Senior Citizen’s Offer” of a £4 lunch in the Sno Bar that dearest Dottie had been eying up. Another visit is needed to fine tune the technique over the next couple of weeks.

Here in Glen Trollaigh there is a touch of spring. Temperatures soar to ten degrees, a light southerly zephyr gives good light from 7.15 till 6.00 and although the colours are generally dry browns, the snowline is pushed back; snowdrops, jasmine and broom appear. Secretive black birds break cover and crossbills present a concert of spring song. Surely it will not last for long! Yours aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.