Déjà vu?? or The IASF returns to Schladming…Déjà vu?? or The IASF returns to Schladming…
Another ski trip, another morning at Heathrow.
Only Terminal 1 again following the bargain offer on Lufthansa for flights to Munich and although it seemed sort of routine, there weren't so many of us around as previously. To be precise, three: your correspondent, Paul Turner and Mr. Gale. A select and hardy band of veteran WASCers if ever there was one, and, as Schladming was the destination for the snow jamboree this year, something of an equaly familiar feel to it as well. The original destination of Trysil in Norway was switched after some long-standing disputes over costs were unresolved and the good Burgers of the Schladming Tourist Office stepped into the breach for us.
Picking up Paola from the London Emirates office along the way, we arrived in the spiffing Terminal 1 at MUC albeit delayed
on the ground at LHR, stopped for a drink in the Airbräu, rushed round the supermarket for breakfast purchases and we were on
our way (not before Paul had failed to locate the right exit for the bus car park despite Dick and I telling him it was the
wrong one). Fortunately the driver had good sense to warn us that there was a pile up on the autobahn just near Rosenheim due
to some fairly persistent snow, so we were treated to a tour of lots of Bavarian villages ending in -ing (that all sound like
unusual sexual practices, according to my brother) before getting on the main route again.
Somewhat hungry and a little bit sleepy, we found our way to the apartment that would be home for the next week. It is best described as "compact", though not without mod cons. But without a kettle. Or a decent knife, and trying to cut bread with a Swiss Army knife wasn't really going to work. But, we adapted and so a decent breakfast was produced the next day. However, dinner was called for, and so we investigated some of the lesser known parts of the town and arrived at the Schwalbenbräu. Schladming's only brew pub, and it was well worth the effort. Top tip if you ever get the chance - try the dunkel, it's lecker! Refreshed, an early night was called for.
Greeted with an overcast day, Paul led us on the Planai for the traditional leg-warming trip up the drag lift past Onkel Willi’s. But imagine his disappointment when he discovered that it had been replaced by a gentle heated 8-person chair lift! Gutted was not the word, though it was not universally missed. There was little option to assuage his disappointment but to go over the Hauser Kaibling and test the snow. And my new skis, though the former was more forgiving than the latter. For those who have been there, little to say other than some good off-piste in the off-piste and fast on-piste. Despite the reduced numbers, it was perfectly possible for one of our team to get lost, which he duly did by missing the turn into a chair lift. Suitably chastened, a good day out was brought to a glühweined close at the perenially favourite Holzhackerstübe, and after some concerned viewing of CNN (BBC Europe was only showing repeats of Extras) the ritual embarrassment of the Opening Parade.
For those who have been on a WASC in the past, a variety of minor indignities have been visited on teams here in the past (not
least being renamed Brtitish Airways in Jackson Hole), and standing in the main square, it was not much different. The slagging
off from QANTAS, the usual 'How many of you are here?' questions, with the sheepish reply this time of 'Only three' and the sheer,
well, obnoxiousness of Lufthansa. It's also a chance to compare jackets and discover some completely unheard of carrier in the
wilds of Canada that so happened to turn up because their mate from Air Canada was coming too. Dragonair were the debutants this
year, and hope they make it back next year. The parade ended with free drinks in the car park while we watched the ski instructors
do their display thing, though it was so cold most people went off in search of things to burn. The party decided they were cold
enough and moved into the nearby Hohenhaus Tenne to continue the drinking, scoffing of mini-Leberkäs and, erm, renewing old
acquaintances in dark corners.
Bleary-eyed people started emerging the next day for race practice on the Planai, where one of the Austrian team members got roped in for an interview by the local TV station, so if you were watching ORFSt that week, you might have caught Paul shooting through the back of shot. If you didn't, well, you missed the tangle I made of the turn further along. Not as bad Davey Jones' attempt at a tee shot on STV, but the presence of a lens can do strange things... The sun broke out though as it was staying cold, there was plenty of life left in the practice slope. Not that it made any difference. More food, more drink, more sleep.
GS day came about as usual, with some gentle snow and flat light that turned into heavier snow and bloody freezing wind. I didn't envy the poor lifties that had been roped in to dispense food and drink at the bottom of the slope to spectators as most of them had by now disappeared inside the warmth of the Kessleralm. Still, the race went on as planned with the eternal rivalry with QANTAS renewed, though the after race drinking was pretty subdued for most.
The reason for this became apparent the next day, or should I say at stupid o'clock the next morning. That was the start time for those of us having to race the slalom over on the Hochwurzen. Unfortunately the official start time of the first run was 9am. Which meant a bus from the Planai at 7.15. 7.15! That's breakfast for normal people! So a bleary eyed crew of racers stumbled their way up to the racecourse only to be met by the slope from hell. The top section was nothing but sheet ice. The lower section had a covering but the top, well, after seeking advice from more experienced Austrians on how to cope with it, the only answer we got was "Full attack!" Yeah, right... Still the 1st run was survived by most, though even the top people were taking it gingerly. The second run was more benign (it had actual snow on it all the way down), but the freezing wind didn't help the back markers waiting at the top. By the time we had all finished, it was still only 12.30, and despite the perenially popular Mats Harstad from SAS winning the men's combined, the mood was still a bit strange.
As people were still milling around in "the finish corral" (as our American brethren are inclined to mangle the English
language), the reason for the early start became apparent: the snowboard finals had started after the slalom to ensure a good
crowd, though by the time the first race had finished, most people had lost interest and decided to go skiing or catch up on some
sleep instead. Apparently, it was quite exciting. If you like that sort of thing.
The sleep was necessary, as it was fancy dress party night, and with the theme of "1001 Arabian Nights" it was a shoo-in for Emirates and Gulf Air. The rest of us had to throw together a few things from wherever our last trip had taken us (in my case, Syria about 15 years ago), except for Swiss, who all turned up in matching outfits. Apparently the costume sub-committee had been given instructions to kit everyone out the same. Air Berlin had the same idea, but their wires got crossed somewhere, and the women were the eunuchs and the men were the belly dancers. Gruesome is not the word. But the dancing and drinking went on for a good while, as there was nothing else to worry about the next morning.
So we headed off into the wooded section of the Planai for a few hours of off-piste fun after a slightly leisurely breakfast the next day, and caught up with the fun at lunchtime. Lunchtime being the best time to do it, given the amount of food on offer from all parts of the world. I didn't quite manage to smuggle out a packet of TimTams from QANTAS, the nice girls from US Air were doing Peppermint Pattie shots and Emirates came with... camel milk chocolate. Maybe not. The highlight had to be the smoked deer meat from NetJets, not only was it tasty but you got the full story of how it was shot, skinned, butchered and smoked from the Finnish guy standing behind you.
After a few shots from the Bundy-toting QANTAS crew, the fun race seemed to start making sense as well. In this case, it consisted of running under some limbo poles down the slope, drinking a schnapps, doing an egg-and-spoon slalom and then tagging your team mates, who proceeded to saw a length off a log and then run back up to the start line on snowshoes. Which, if you had had a few, made perfect sense. Otherwise, it looked like complete chaos and even the organisers were nearly ready to admit defeat before the last team was out of the blocks. But eventually people wandered away from the festivities in varying degrees of insobriety, probably to get over the nightmare vision of the hairy naked arses of the QANTAS team running up and down the slope.
Not having been entirely put off my food, it was best bib and tucker on for the Gala Dinner in the Dachstein-Tauernhalle, and
after being reallocated a table because our original one had been taken over by the dumbasses of United who couldn't count the
number of people in their team, we settled down with the lone Japan Airlines people and the up-for-it crew from TUIFly Sweden. Just
as we were finishing the main course, the lights dimmed and we were treated to a fireworks display from the back of the hall. Oooh,
novel entertainment!? No, just a very different way of saying that the dessert buffet was open. Avoiding the burnt bits, it was
worth it. We were also pleased to be with our Japanese colleagues as there it was revealed that the venue for 2012 will be the
far-flung slopes of Niseiko in Japan. Looking forward to that one! Many retired to the foyer bar for coffee, some leapt onto the
dance floor (and some got a flogging for their troubles from a Swedish lady - seriously!) and, as the night wore on, many retired
to their packing, saying many goodbyes along the way and the promise to meet again in Crested Butte next year.
Avoiding the rush, we decided to delay departure until Saturday, so we had a gloriously sunny day to ski marathon from the far side of the Planai to the top of the Reiteralm and back again. We did it fine, although the lunch stop at the very top of the Reiteralm was postponed due to the freezing winds and the snow shower that had appeared. Still, the last descent of the World Cup slalom slope on the Planai didn't come too soon, and with aching legs, we dropped in on Herman at the HoPl ski school and Paul even contemplated buying the Flash Gordon helmet in Charley Kahr's window- a snip at €490!
Taxi Maxi turned up at the appointed hour of 9.20 the next morning to schlepp us all to the railway station, and the winding road home. Through the chaos of Salzburg Hbf and through Munich and the S-Bahn to the airport, we made good time in the snow flurries for the Lufty flight home. Tired, but having fully enjoyed the familiar sounds and snows of Schladming, we returned home to face the uncertainties of impending industrial action and finally answer the first question most people came out with, which was "Are you on strike yet?"
Whatever may have come to pass, WASC will be there next year, and we are all invited. Hold on to your free tickets though, as it will be Crested Butte in the Rockie Mountains of the US of A, and all that lovely powder to play in...
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