Let it snow, let it snow, let it...actually, that´s enough now, thanks...

So, a little catching up to do, then. Now, where was I...?

I guess I should start with - christ, what day is it, Tuesday? Okay, Sunday, then. We hiked up Roca Jack to make a traverse over several powder fields, separated by rocky ridges. That morning, I´d traded in my new board for my old Supercharger at the storeroom. This proved to be a good decision, since I put a six inch long by one inch wide gouge down the centre, to the core. The technician made a face when I showed him. I spent the afternoon riding switch, and can now do it comfortably, albeit without the top speed I have going forward.

And so to the evening. Tres mucho pisco sour and beers. We ended up running into a couple of English blokes, which was SUCH a result. Finally, the asides, comments and cultural references I´ve been making are being understood, and the topic of conversation is more St. Anton than Colorado. Result. Pete and Chris (for thou art their names) are from Bath uni, and are the incoming and outgoing Bath University ski club captains. They´re top blokes, fantastic skiers, and cardboard-cutout characature public school boys. Oh, and they´d just finished a tour with Casa - the same crew we´re going to travel with. Marvellous. So, we spent the night drinking with them. We also ran into Jerry - one of my roommates - in the bar. He´s been on the Bourbon since roughly four o'clock, and was plastered. He´s made me promise I´ll bring out a bunch of people to use his condo in Beaver Creek, near Vale (incidentally, I have it on good authority that in Beaver Creek there´s an off-licence that´s called, inevitably, ´Beaver Liquors´. Brilliant.). All we would have to do is pay for cleaning. How could I possibly refuse an offer like that? Anyway, once the band had stopped (and the moustachioed Polish crew had given up wrestling random women onto the dance floor), we hit the ´club´- a small nightclub in the basement of the hotel. It was at this point that Sylv´s fleece went AWOL, containing her camera, room pass, etc. Now, some girls (women, ladies, whatever) get upset and emotional. Sylv gets scarily aggressive. Normally I´d offer a hug. In this case, however, I had no punchbag to give her, so retreated to a safe distance. Several of the hotel doors weren´t so lucky. Yup, I´d say she was pissed off. Understandable, though, as it was much like when my li´l sis had her camera stolen in Uraguay, it wasn´t so much the cost of the camera as the photographs on it. It´s interesting how different people handle their emotions.

Anyway, after writing it off, it was handed in at reception the next day (Monday). The cash had gone, but the camera was there, so happy days. Meanwhile, the snow was bucketing down. After having a very long a leisurely breakfast, we played cards until lunchtime (regular ´Scotton Tours´travellers will be pleased to note I now have three new people playing ´500´), then headed out to hit a spot of powder. It´s everywhere, and reminds me of what snowboarding really is all about. I still managed to find the only rocks, though, which made a nice noise. Since I have two boards, though, I´m not being too precious about it. Hit the hot-tub after that, and spent time rolling in the snow. Oh yes, we then did yoga. Yes, you read that right: Yoga. This was the Bath boys´ idea, and was the first time I´d done it. Yes, there WERE some very attractive women in there, but we were doing it purely for the holistic benefits, right? And to prepare for the inevitable night of drinking...

So, dinner was spent trying to think up interesting rumours to start. I was particularly pleased with mine - that the Maitre-d (spelling?), a portly gent who´s jowls had jowls, used to coach Alberto Tomba, the great downhill skier. Chris swallowed this immediately, so I think it might work. After dinner, it was more 500 (whilst listening to a band murder Led Zeppelin and the Beatles), then down to La Posada. This is pretty much a shack down by the main road, and is where the locals and staff drink. Very cheap, and with a big wood fire burning away, which left all our clothes smelling like Bonfire Night. That closed at 3:30am, and left us hiking back through two-foot deep fresh snow to the Octagon, where we´re staying. I managed not to wake my room-mates, who I´m getting to know very well now.

So, it´s now, um, Tuesday morning, and the snow´s still ´pukin´ down. The road is closed, so we could be stuck until Thursday. If that´s the case, we´ll have to arrange to meet the Casa tour later on. The thought of fresh powder ain´t too arduous, though.