Back to work today in Geneva, which was a not too brutal re-introduction to the world of work for 2006. Spent a very nice Xmas with my family, and then after a New Year round at a friend's house with more champagne than was strictly necessary I went to Zermatt with my family.
I had a skiing mishap last year, also in Zermatt, with the typical snow-boarder's injury of a dislocated shoulder. Like all these things it happened at about five Kmh when I was coming round the edge of a turn in the piste, and was waiting for the others in the party. The light was a bit flat, and I did not see a gouge in the turn, so I was off balance. Normally on a board, you just fall down, and then get up, but as I was going so slowly I stuck my arm out, only to find I had misjudged the distance, and went onto my arm harder than was good for it. I felt the arm coming out of the socket, and I knew what had happened immediately.
I yelped and swore very loudly. Luckily the rest of the party were still with me, and so I was helped to get my board off, which I would NOT have been able to do myself one handed, and stood at the edge of the piste. Zermatt being Zermatt, about five minutes later a ski guide came past, and we flagged him down. He was very helpful, and called the emergency services, and said, "well, they'll be here in a few minutes. " Now, we are on a long run in the middle of the Swiss Alps, so I assumed that this was a bit of optimism to make me feel calmer during the wait, but no, lo and behold a few minutes later a man appears with one of the big recovery sledges. He carries out a very professional inspection of my shoulder, basically to determine if there are secondary issues with nerve damage and so on, but all is OK, apart from the fact that my arm is out of its socket. (My wife, who is a doctor was also watching.)
He then shakes his head, and says something in Swiss German about not going down the hill. Then he indicates that it will be copter that takes me off, showing with his hand that going down the hill, in a sledge, with a dislocated shoulder, would be a very unpleasant experience. I concur, as right now a good hard kick in the crotch would seem like light relief.
He calls, and duly the sound of a helicopter is heard. Skiers, who have been more or less ignoring us until now, start to congregate to watch the evac, which is not good, so they are shooed away. The helicopter then arrives. Now, helicopters cannot easily always land on snow, in case they sink. The ones in Zermatt, like all hill rescue choppers have skis on them, but lowering a five (?) tonne helicopter onto snow is a tricky business. While it is feeling its way down, it is holding up its weight by displacing an equivalent amount of air, e.g. many tonnes of it a second. In other words, it is really dashed windy, and so as a bystander you have to kneel in the snow, and basically adopt a kind of bent over praying position on the snow to avoid being blown away or having your head chopped off by the rotors.
As I do this, my arm, which has been dangling totally uselessly is pushed up close to my chest. And so, in the middle of a raging blizzard of helicopter down-blast my wife hears this loud shriek, and just imagines that this is me protesting about the wind, but when the rotors stop I am able to explain that in fact the bloody thing has been forced back into the socket by the motion, and so I now no longer have a dislocated shoulder. Ironic really, shoulder fixed by helicopter.
So I get a ride round Zermatt in a helicopter, but as I no longer am in quite such discomfort, it is actually quite a fun experience. These guys really know what they are doing. Whizzing over the snow covered ridges in a small helicopter is one of the best arcade experiences I have ever had. Pity the ride is quite so expensive.
Long and the short of it is that firstly, I am OK, secondly, that was the end of last season, and thirdly, in Zermatt, my time from injury on the piste to hotel room was about and hour and forty five minutes, which is amazing, if you think about it.
Here I am after the accident, standing with a busted arm on one of the best skiing days I have ever seen. Dang.
This year, things were much better. My son, who is now six, has taken to skiing on this trip, and neither I nor his mother can keep up with him. We are both good skiers, black run and off-piste level with no problems, but this is different. He just points his skis downhill and takes off, doing his little snowplough turns at what looks like a heck of a clip, with his mother and I skiing down after him as fast as we can. We put him into lessons with a Zermatt ski guide, and this guy, being both a very experienced skier, and not his parents, just slid along behind him making sure that nothing terrible happened. As he said, "you can't teach children anything, they are too busy trying to manage at all, but if you are in front of them, they will try to imitate you."
So, ski season off to a good start this year, and let's see what else happens.
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