Nearly Nirvana...

Look, I don´t want to wax too poetical here, but I think this might be worth remembering. For me, that is. Anyway,

Let me paint you a picture...

It´s one thirty in the afternoon, in Portillo. We´re in the dining room, eating another fantastic three-course meal (dijon Pork, I believe). It´s been - as some of my Colorado aquaintances put it - "Pukin´it down, maaan". We´ve had almost a metre of snow overnight, and all the lifts are closed, due to avalanche danger. The atmosphere is good. Everyone is excited at the prospect of the slopes opening with fresh powder, and the rumour mill is running on overdrive. A series of glass-shaking booms rattle the windows, and everyone runs to the terrace. They´re blasting, to clear avalanche risks. This can only mean that they´re planning to open the slopes. They guys we´re eating with drop their knives and forks and leave the dining room at a jog.

An hour later, a small crowd is gathering on the nursery slopes. The main lift has been running for an hour, but only taking up mountain guides. The sky has cleared, and it´s only a matter of time before we´re let up the hill. I adjust my bindings back on my board, so my weight is placed back, to let me surf through the snow. At some unseen signal, the group charges down the slope towards the lift. It´s like some sort of land-rush, as people jostle for positions. I sit at the top and observe, rueing the fact that I don´t have enough memory left on my camera to record this charge. We make our way down, and are on, probably, the eighth quad chair up. As we ascend, the previously-tracked slopes are now pristine and untouched. Everybody´s practically busting with excitment. I´m quietly happy, but find the enthusiasm of the North Americans amusing.

We reach the top. I glide down the transistion and into a wall of snow. The piste is covered with over a foot of new snow, which is now being smashed down into a compact trail by the eager skiers and snowboarders. Pausing briefly to strap in, we survey the mountain below. There are already some tracks, and without further ado, we drop in. Incredible. This is the best snow I´ve ever been in. Utterly soft, and slightly sluggish; I find myself coaxing my board, rather than actually steering it, since sharp turns are impossible. I adjust myself, and lean back so I´m surfing through the snow. As I plough down the steepest parts, I bounce from side to side, and ice-cold snow sprays my face. The slopes are filled with whooping and cheering. I bounce back onto the piste, then hit a ridge of snow kicked up by a piste-basher and fly through the air. I land on my back, yet still have a massive smile on my face. I raise my arms, acknowledging the cheering from the group of skiers I flew past. And to the bottom. Everybody is grinning, and spirits are high, as people scramble back up the mountain.

Every run, I become more ambitious, bouncing down through steeper and steeper powder. The Gargantua gulley opens, and everybody races to get first tracks. The snow is waist-deep at times. Racing down the hill is both terrifying and exhilarating, tinged with the knowledge that any landing will be soft. My board catches a few rocks, and I´m briefly smug that I left my brand new Option Redline in the ski store, electing to take out my old and beaten-up Supercharger. My legs being to tire, but the heart is still willing. This is without doubt the best snow I´ve ever experienced, together with perfect visibility. It simply doesn´t get better than this. I´m smiling and my heart is pumping, yet I still feel subdued next to my American companions, who are slightly more expressive in their enthusiasm.

The powder has now been pushed into lumps, and all the fresh tracks have now gone. Riding out is still immensely exhilerating, yet much more difficult, and unstable. My legs are failing, and I´m not making the turns. Even so, I keep pushing myself up the chair. I glance at the clock. It´s ten to five, and the Hispanic lift attendant motions that it is to be my last run. I´m happy to have the decision taken away from me. The light is failing, and I´m running on vapours, yet still very happy. I plough down the now-lumpen slopes, kicking up mountains of snow-spray, before hitting the side of the piste, and hopping back on. I ride switch to the bottom, then turn round and glide up to the nursery slope. Unclipping my board, I take one last look at the mountain, before heading for the hotel.

They haven´t opened the bigger half of the mountain, so hopefully tomorrow...