For at least another 24 hours.
This morning we awoke again to another 25 centimeters in town and dark skies. Slopes at Flegere provided good turning conditions, but nothing special. Over some Pastis (Ricard) at lunch back at Chez Moi, Tom and I decided to go get lost in the trees below the mid-station on the Aig du Midi. As were were thinking about it, we looked outside and I said,
"Fuck it, let's do the Cosmiques"
"Hell Yeah" Tom replied (or some similar British/American melange)
"If you think you're going get me to ski the Glacier Rond, I'm going to kick you in the mouth" I retorted.
"Drink this Pastis I made" Tom added enthusiastically.
Several moments pass
"I'm still not skiing the Rond."
"Okay, whatever, let's catch the 1:30 bin."
And then, somehow I found myself looking down that dreaded ice again. But this time it was really ready to embrace me. It was so deep and good.
Nice day at the top shack.
Aw shit its ice again, I'm going to break another binding. I want a tissue.
No, no no no; it's actually really good.
The exit, or shall we say the entrance?
Glacier Rond, with the Cunningham straight on and Aig. du Midi up there.
Oh man it's deep.
Holy god, oh man oh man oh man....
Then we skied 7000 more feet of filthy pow to tunnel where no one would pick us up. I had a nervous breakdown and said I was never skiing the Rond again.
