Snow Andorra 2000 SUNDAY Now this is the story of the third (Unofficial) club trip skiing. People always say it didn't happen exactly like I write it down, but this is how I remembered it. And as the one who volunteered to write it all down then I get to give the official version of the truth. Anyway these skiing trips are useful events as they provide a way for die hards like Donogh to go on a package holiday with all that that involves, (drinking, women, dodgy nightclubs etc.) while still being a "Mountaineering Related Activity". Mind you drinking, women and nightclubs are all fine traditional mountain activities in this club. But they also give the rest of us a trip away and something to look forward to after Christmas. So there we were in Dublin airport. Each year the start time has become more respectable, this year it was 11:30am. There were 11 going from Ireland. Donogh, Mark and Fiona Purcell, and myself, Seamus from UCDMC. The rest were related by marraiges and acquantance to Fiona. Aidan from the trip last year, Mac Dara, Brendan, Amamda & Llyod, Jenny & etc.. [fill in blanks here] Mention that most are civils Also on the trip but coming from the UK was Dermot and his new lady, Lucy, who we eagerly awaited to meet, to see if she was of fit quality for our Dermo. We all met up and checked in with Spanair. Ho, ho, 'Spanner Airlines' we joked. How true we would find this was later. There was the traditional breakfast which was livened by seeing Mother Brenadette in her clerical garb. She will be better known to the rest of the world as Sinead O'Connor. Now she might get a lot of stick for the whole preiest thing, but it's nice to see a Priest who is not afraid to appear in public with her children. Spanner Air lived up to their name by getting us to change departure gates with their Lanzerotte flight and then trying to swap flight numbers with them as well. Wouldn't it have been as easy to put us on the original flights and then just lie to the captains about where they were suposed to go? So off we headed for Barcelona. At the airport we met the person who is to the package holiday as the village idiot is to the countryside, yes the Rep. Of course its not nice to slag off a person who is a Rep only because they couldn't get the points for Street Sweeping, but I will anyway. The late departure from Dublin and the 5 hour transfer to Andorra meant we did not arrive at our destination, the resort of Soldeau, until about 10pm and evryone was knackered. The large civil engineering contingent had managed to get very excited though about the 5km tunnel we had driven through on the way. They were annoyed though that the Rep would not stop the bus for them to get out and do whatever it is civil engineers do to other people's structures. Waiting for us at the bus was Dermot and Lucy. She was promptly taken aside and interogated about her intentions. But having passed the initial inspection she was released unharmed. Rooms were divided up, beds were fought over. It was easy to seperate the men from the boys then as Donogh, Mark and myself headed out to check up on the local night life. We did a circuit of town, sticking our heads in a number of quiet bars before ending up in the Pussy Cat. Our arrival nearly doubled the number of people in the bar but we were happy to see that they had a cage to dance in. There were solemn nods of approval from our intrepid heros at this. A few pints were had and we retired with our drinking honor intact about 1:30am. MONDAY No point going kiing unless you look like one. So first order of business was get the skis, boots and poles. We had been given dire warnings about the long delays for gear and teh hour wait for the gojndola to the top of the mountain. But it all turned out ok. Well other than having your feet feel like they were being set in epoxy for the week in the boots. Up the mountain then and we volunteered for classes. These were rated by difficulty from 1 to 4. Now wholely against tradition people had cheated by practicing before coming out, with all teh civils making trips to Kilternan in the previous weeks. Mark had also been sneaking off from New Jersey at the weekends. We signed up for the hardest classes (I do have the kamikaze name to live up to) and behind us we could hear Donogh pleading his case with the lady at the counter that he was good enough to go in the top class. "Yes I have skied before". "Well I know what a red run looks like if that is any good", "Why do I have to sign a disclaimer? No one else had to." We were all made ski off anyway to demonstrate our level of incompetance. A process which removed all the cute girls from our class. Mark and I ended up in the same class with a Slovak instructor who wore his Goretex in the South Park Kenny style. he disapeared in the afternoon to be replaced by an Australian as he was required to provide Russian language classes to some ex-commie Gansters. Sorry, some well to do citizens of the former Soviet Union. The lessons provided a good way to get to know the mountain as the instructor didn't push people for the first couple of days, concentrating on style and technique. But in the process he showed us the good runs and gave us an idea of the lie of the land. The weahter had been cloudy aall day with little spits of snow. To be adventurous in the afternoon many of us decided to ski to the bottom of teh mountain right to the village. As you dropped height though the snow turned to sleet and then to rain so the last few hundred metres were wet on slushy snow, not very pleasent at all. That night almost everyone headed out to Fat Alberts, the pub about 5m from the back door of the hotel. The beer was a bit more expensive but it had a crowd, something we were finding in short supply in many of the other local pubs. While we were there we ran into the Rep organised pub crawl. I a stroke of genius that shows why we get paid the huge salaries that we earn we decided to stay in the pub and let each of the companies bring their groups to us, together with their pretty women. This worked fine until this woman [with the figure of a Valkyre] came up to me and Mark, threw her arms around us and declared that she didn't know which one of us to snog. the question was easily solved though. It was my round and when I had returned from the bar, Jenny, had had her wicked way with Mark. And so there would be no doubt he went for the encore when this very, very drunk woman tried to drink his beer. 'Twas the only way to be stopping her! Bedtime in the hotal Hotanse Arcs was 1:30 am again that night. TUESDAY Tuesday dawned sunny and clear, and we all met for breakfast.Many of the males were keeping a look out for the waitress that had served us the morning before. They were keen to figure out the brand of shapely black bra that was visible through her thin white blouse. Lessons again in the morning, practicing parallel turns, snowplow turns, stopping without injuring yourself, or standing up on skis, depending on the level of class you were in. For some people there were special classes of walking with crutches, and drinking with wrist in cast. With the finer weather we all skied to the bottom of the mountain for lunch. This was such better value, much less crowded and of better quality (several of the party were laid low with a stomach bug after the food from the mountain the day before) that we decided that this would be the best way to have lunch each day. The more adventurous of us were on the reds at this stage and in one or two cases on the blacks as well. Despite my worries the place was not as busy as I had thought and not as busy as Arnisal, the Andorran resort we were in 2 years previously. The snow wasn't too bad. A little thin in places, slushy in others, and icy in some sheltered spots at the bottom of the mountain. But generally good. Everyone was finding there was plenty to ski on at each level, especially for the beginners. With the two previous late nights (for some) and Mark still feeling cheapened at the way he had been violated we took it easy. We ended up in the Picadilly bar up town, nearly 100m from the hotel. There we were able to play Sega Rally. And if ever you wanted to see the effect drink has on people's driving skills then this was the time for it. We retired early and were back in bed for midnight. WEDNESDAY Breafast was birghtened by the return of our blak bra wearing waitress, much to the delight of the male civil engineers. Breakfast each morning, and dinner as well were "all you can eat". It was continental fare (so no Denny's saussages, or tea in normal tea bags) but you wouldn't leave the table hungry. The day started cloudy, but not too cold. At this stage the instructors were being a bit more adventurous with the groups bringing them on Red and Blue runs depending on ability. At the same time around town you could see more of the walking wounded, with casts and crutches. On the slopes the snow cannons were running in the morning to touch up the snow quality. That night though things were going to get very interesting. It had started snowing lightly as we came off the mountain and there were a few light flurries of snow as we headed for the Aspen bar. But a few pints into the night a huge dump started. Everyone got very giddy as the snow got heavier and started to build on the ground. By the time we left the pub there was about 10cm on the ground. And it was still coming down. The whole town had changed in appearance. Now it looked like the "winter wonderland" photos you see in the brochures. The Irish were much in evidence that night accross town as snowball fights broke out in the streets. Everyone went to bed early in anticipation of the day to come. THURSDAY In the morning I checked at the window as soon as I woke up and was surprised to see the snow had continued all night and it was still coming down! There was over 30cm of snow on the groudn outside the window. Of course now we had snow the concern was would the mountain be open? When we got to the gondola station it was running but no one was being let on. About an hour later the ski instructors began going up the mountain. Shortly after they reappeared down the runs. When they came back into the gondola station they were covered in powder snow and grinning from ear to ear. So would we get our turn? Finally, nearly 2 hours late we were let up the mountain. They probably had to let us go though. There were several hundred people in the queue and if they had refused us the ensuing riot would have led to the place being stripped and burned to the ground. The conditions on top though were like nothing we had every seen before. There was loose powder up to your knees everywhere and none of the runs had been pisted. So effectively we were skiing off-piste. Everything on the top of the mountain was closed as they blasted to bring down avalanches, confining people to the bottom half of the mountain. The ski school classes started late and were much shorter. It became like having to learn how to ski all over again. Things were a little crowded with everyone squeezed into the smaller number of runs. To add to fun you needed a ski mask or you went blind with the powder. And if a ski came off there was the joy of trying to find it under a foot of loose snow. But everyone was having a huge amount of fun. We all fell over regulary and dissapeared into the drifts of snow. There was one casulty in our group as Fiona strained her calf during the morning. Lunch was at the bottom of the mountain but as we went to go back up the mountain the authorities had decided we had had enough fun and shut the place down. To be fair though theri reason was the wind had been increasing and the gondolla been stopping all morning. So stuck for something to do we decided to go to Andorra La Ville the main (and only) town in Andorra. The public bus ran us in and some went to the hot springs while others hit the duty free shops. The holw country is duty free and with loads of competition between shops this was "shopping as it should be". Electronics, cosmetics, booze and even climbing gear at very nice prices. For the poorer of us though it was an oppertunity to buy the presents for those who had to stay at home. We left early to get back to the restaurant we had booked for our meal out. This was of fine quality and a very civilised affair. Is was in the continental fashion so stak was a slab of meat which was shown to a cooker prior to being served. From there we raced up to the Picadilly to get the end of their Irish night. We arrived in the door to a DJ in a Clare GAA jersey, playing Christy Moore and "A nation once again". The Engilsh were easy to spot, they were the ones trying to dance. The single males viewed the scene to see what the talent was like. However the problem was that of quantity over quality. Donogh was approached but he was still living down the incident two years ago with the English school girl (these days he alwasy demands a copy of a birth cert so then he can proove to his friends that she was over 16) so he deflected the approach by saying nothing when talked to. FRIDAY In the morning the mountain was open and all the main runs were pisted. This made it much easire to ski on and everyone was loose on the giant playground for the day. Our instructor also had us tumbling down black runs. It was the last day of lessons, which traditionally means a race and generally goofing about. As with the other afternoons we would all meet for lunch and then we would start off skiing together. Usually we would play around on the El Tartar side of the mountain where the runs were longer and easier. You had to watch out in case the mountain would close again and leave you several miles from home. But with the weather improving there was litte danger of that. On the higher and steeper runs it was becoming more icy as the loose snow had been blown off in the wind, so everyone was keeping to the reds or easier runs. there was a good mix of people aroudn with kids, to grannies and a range of nationalities. Apart from the Spanish and French there also were Dutch, the package tour set and loads of Russians for some reason? At the end of the day there was a presentation in Fat Albert's where the prizes for the races were handed out. And the usual lies of "You were the best class I have ever had", "you were the best ski instructor I ever had" were told. The extremely cute Maeve who had joined our class in the last few days was there as well. And I ferreted out that she was going to be back in Fat Albert's after she went for dinner. I made enemies that night to ensure we were in Fat Albert's at the end of the night, but damn it she wasn't there! We had engaged on something of a pub crawl with visits to the Picadilly, the Aspen and we looked in the door of the Pussy Cat as we had done every night. But as always the place was empty and no-one was in the cage. SATURDAY This was the last day of skiing and there was no lessons so we all skied like mad things for the dy. Fiona was back on the skis as well so we were all at it. Despite it being a Saturday and just after a large snow fall things seemed to be quiet. Most of the group headed over to a quieter section of the mountain where there were feew people all day. Gradually as the afternoon wore on one by one we drifted back to Soldeau to hand in the gear. As we made those last few turns down to the gondola station everyone was tired but happy. Mark made many enemies then as he headed off to buy skis to use the following weekend in the US. We all headed out for dinner again. This time to a Tex-Mex of mediocre quality. We got a group of English "Lads" to sit beside us. They kept us entertained by being loud and unfunny. We wondered would Russian mafiosos on holiday take on contract work at short notice. Everyone was fairly tired and out bus out was for 5am the follwing morning. So the drinking was subdued that night in Fat Als. Indeed the whole resort seemed to be quiet. Out inital plans to stay drinking until the bus left were ditched in favour of getting a few hours sleep, and we were in bed by midnight. SUNDAY We were up at some ungodly hour which I am sure was only put on the clock as a joke. Of course Dermot and Lucy were still safely in their beds, as their coach wasn't to leave until 11am. So they missed leaving the valley and heading up into the mountains under a full moon and clear skies. We could see out over the snow covered mountains which were brilliant under the moonight. In the distance were the lights of the snow ploughs pisting the slopes and high on the mountains the cable stations. It was a breathtaking sight. Mind you most people were comotose with exhaustion and missed it. For those that were awake there was the fun of trying to figure out why a bus that was going to Barcelona airport was driving into France. But the driver knew what he was doign and we found ourselves at the correct airport. With a bit of shoving and pushing we got our bags on a Spanner plane. We wern't too sure if it was the right one or not as it had the same flight number but all the signs in the airport said it was going to Liverpool. Another of the Irish charter flights has a group of "Norn Iron" lads with snowboards. And painted onto one of these was two tri colours and the slogan "Eire Saoirse". The board will probably have to be decomissioned as part of the peace process. The flight was uneventful, well other than the pilot going up to Drogheda and then going all the way back south at the sort of height that allowed him to read the sign posts to the airport along the N1. And so ended another skiing trip. A bit quieter in night life to previous years but with good skiing and loads of fun all the same. Dermo - "A bit too decadent" Loads of Russians Because of the time of year - few singles, shortage of quality women