Hands up, that’s an hold-up!
Thursday is normally a weekday. This one appeared to behave like a Sunday, though, thanks the delightful abstinence of my teachers. I’m calling here for a huge big up to Clara and Raul, without whom I wouldn’t have experienced what we call in skiers jargon a “holy fucking hold-up”.
A “hold-up” is for the mountain skier (different from the slope skier, a particular inoffensive and conventional species) an epic ride with perfect conditions of weather and snow, and without a track before himself.
For the neophyte to understand, it’s like having a trip with cocaine mixed with weed: first the explosion of feelings and a high powerful sensation that goes straight to the brain, then after the ride, a sweet and soft sensation of accomplishment tinted with a glimpse of nostalgy.
That’s what we did this early morning, old fellows Vin’s, Kris and I, in spite of an painful wake up after an unexpected alcoholic night for me. The Taillefer was our hood for a day, watch your steps while you fail.
Let's thank the priester for this holy ride kids! #thankyouFatherBarbarin
--> Here's a video for the haters who don't believe in powder in April!
