Chapter 1 - Forming
This is the first chapter of a four-part story of how some people from
rec.skiing.alpine and aus.snow invaded Utah and skiied the crap out of it.
More pictures and words will be added to this site anon.
Well, I was the first Invader to leave home base, which is Canberra Australia on
February 1.
Got plane to Sydney , had a long boring wait and then onto JAL flight to Narita (about 10
hours).
Only a few hours in Narita, and then onto JAL flight to Vancouver (about 10 hours).
I hadn’t arranged how to get from Vancouver to Seattle, thinking it’d be easy.
Ha!
The Quick Shuttle service to Seattle had just left when I got in; attempted to grab a
plane seat to Seattle: $170!!!! Bugger that.
Back downstairs to snaffle a taxi to the Greyhound terminal, in the hope of getting on the
2.20 bus.
Was successful at that and had a drizzly bus ride into the US.
Customs was easy, after all the horror stories I’d heard.
The customs guy chatted to me about Montana (he’d never been there) and issued my
little visa, no problem.
| It was dark and drizzly by the time we reached Seattle, and
pulled into the bus station after 6pm (yes, I was bloody tired!!!!). As luck would have
it, Two Buddha (Scott) was waiting for me (I had no US cash and was wondering how I was
going to call him), so loaded into the Evil Van’s replacement (a disreputable-looking
Isuzu Trooper), Doggie realised that the person who always stole her car seat was back,
and we drove back to TB’s place. In an obvious attempt to confuse me, TB had
rearranged the dungeon, reversing the home entertainment set-up, couches etc, and
he’d put a few more holes in the glass-topped coffee table. |
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I had a very empty stomach and eyes propped open with matchsticks, so that pint of beer
probably wasn’t a great idea, but it sure was nice so I had another. And another.
In the pub was Urrrrrk, Chris Dye, Steve Deem and Mrs Deem (who still can’t decipher
my accent!) and a very nice lady called Bobby-Jo who said she’d been lurking for
years.
TB was loudly offended that me and Urrk and Chris seemed to resemble each other (good
Scottish stock, evidently), and Chris was lamenting the Volkls he’d bent that day at
Snoqualmie.
I foolishly didn’t bring the camera so no exposure of Chris and Urrk (Steve
you’ll find in the Whistler chapter of my last story); TB took me back to the
dungeon, where I met my brand-new skis, kindly donated by Remington Investments Inc and
Kneissl Skis.
TB had helpfully stuck "Snowboarders Suck" stickers on them.
Monday Feb 2
Drizzly grey day, felt very odd waking up in the dungeon again! TB had donated some melatonin the night before (this stuff is not available in Oz) so I actually slept. We packed the car, and then visited the supermarket, as TB was paying Tim Petrick a visit on our way out, and wanted to get him some beer. We went to the Booth Creek Resorts office, and met Tim Petrick who seemed pleased with his beer. TB attempted to scam something off him, to no avail.
Then, we were off! Through Washington, Oregon and into Idaho, saw some very bleak
countryside and an awful lot of petrol stations (Izuzu Troopers are thirsty
things). Had a bit of a battle with snowdrifts and wind-blown snow in "the
passes", and got into Ketchum (Idaho) a bit late.
Was able to see the Sawtooth Range through, spectacular.
Ketchum was very pretty indeed. Old enough to have acquired some grace, lots of money
around, and the townsfolk evidently kept the manufacturers of fairy lights in business.
TB showed me around the town, went to all the main bars and the Sun Valley Inn which
was full of black guys and girls from Chicago; called The American Brotherhood of Skiiers,
which sounded nice. TB ended up exchanging opinions of Chicago with a bunch of them while
I examined the photos of Famous People on the walls.
A strange thing happened that night: TB didn’t snore! (Though he reckons I did:
Revenge!).
Tuesday February 3
Woke to a snowy, low-cloud day. Out the back windows of our room, we could see across
the car-park to Sun Valley ski hill.
TB mumped and grizzled about skiing by braille: I was feeling like a wet sock (jet lag, I
foolishly thought), had brand-new skis and boots, and hadn’t been on any skis since
September.
So, though I can hardly believe it now, I actually bailed!
On the road to again, headed for Park City. TB became chirpier and chirpier, while I
got grumpier and grumpier. Reached PC mid-afternoon, found the house of TB’s new
lady-love with some difficulty, and moved in. The much-mentioned "double-wide"
(Yank for mobile home) was in fact a palatial town-house, up on the hill directly opposite
PC resort.
As night fell, it became obvious that both Ketchum AND Park City kept the manufacturers of
fairy lights in business, but it did look rather nice (I suppose).
| The lady of the house finally came home to face TB’s cooking; when I
answered the door my slightly fuddled brain thought that Jerry Hall had come to visit,
dressed like she’d just got in from Paris. TB cooked some extremely smelly fish (salmon he’d brought from Seattle) and some of Stephana’s friends came for dinner. I then felt the unmistakable sore throat of….flu! |
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Wednesday February 4
TB drove me hastily to Salt Lake City (breakfast having afforded me the most unwelcome sight of the Shame of Vail courtesy of a faulty bathrobe and a Profit deep in the throes of posting or e-mailing or something).
| Took possession of the Condo, which was rather up-market, spotless, and a
bit too comfortable for what was meant to be a budget trip. I went to bed as standing up
was proving to be quite challenging. Tabi, the mighty Skigrrl, turned up in the afternoon,
and like a whirlwind unpacked heaps of glamorous clothes, 20 000 Invasion t-shirts
she’d printed up, liberated the laptop and arranged us a local ISP, and then roared
off out the door to get the groceries! She returned with TB in tow, having found him in,
where else? Wal-mart, and introduced herself. |
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Thursday February 5
I must rely on posts to rec.skiing.alpine for the next few days, cos I was in bed!
| Early this morning, TB arrived, and then Bob Thompson
("Pigopowder") joined us also. Tabi cooked a slap-up breakfast for The Boys, and the phone seemed to go non-stop as we touched base with practically every skiing internet person in SLC. The incriminating photo shows either TB ascending Mt Tabibutt, or Mt Tabibutt ascending TB, take your pick. |
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The lot of them went to, where else, Alta, and I went back to bed.
All I know about the day is that Mike East set himself a fine precedent, injuring a
tree and removing some of its bark with his head.
I asked Mike if anything of note happened that day, and he said "We just bludged in
the trees a bit".
Friday February 6
I haunted the condo again today, definitely better (standing upright was now possible for up to an hour at a stretch!). Tabi’s ski school buddy, Gordy, came for breakfast and then they all went off to Alta – again. Today they were to meet Good Ol Ed. Tabi had prepared chili stuff in a pot, so I got it going on the premise that you can never overcook chili.
The famous Tigger Wilde arrived that afternoon. I opened the door (upon which I’d stuck a Utah Invasion HQ sign and a clip-on sheep) to a downsized version of Tim the Tool Man with a very cool ski bag, whose chief concern was the two cases of Yeungling beer he’d UPS’d from Pennsylvania. He’d marked the box "ski supplies" (very accurate!) but was still worried about what might happen to it. It finally arrived on Monday.
That night, Glen Lamson (Glamson) came over for dinner and we all watched the ‘Limpics (Strine for Olympics) opening cere-moany.
Saturday February 7
Finally! My chance to do some skiing, after a week of bludging around. I was still feeling fairly pathetic, but what the hell. It snowed over night, and we (with Bob) headed for Deer Valley (I had a freebie courtesy of TB). We had to ski somewhere in Park City as TB was cooking more of that smelly fish for us, followed by the Park City Vailien Revivial (party for skiing internet geeks – us).
We met Mr and Mrs Good Ol Ed, but what with one thing and another, it took ages to get
on the slopes. Not an auspicious first day’s skiing for me and Tigger: it’d
snowed after they’d groomed, and every man and his dog had been on it before us, so
the snow was mushed-up into piles of mashed spuds.
Utah powder?! It reminded me of home.
Tigger and I went off to ski on every cat-track we could find, whilst singing appropriate
songs. (Just a Gigolo for me, Snow Cattin’ Satin Doll for Tig).
Tabi and Bob went on tree-forays, while Mike East went to help Craig, who’d hurt
his thumb.
There was a demo-day on, and we found TB being noisy about the conditions in the Olin
tent.
Most of the demos available were shapeds, and I was just discovering what nice skis the
Kneissl slaloms were, so we stole TB’s water bottle and buggered off to sing on
cat-tracks a bit more.
We all re-grouped at closing-time in the Deer Valley pub. That tab system is a trap; you end up drinking more, cos you don’t "know" that the beers are $4 a pop!
A scrawny little boy in a very fetching crumpled knee-length A-line parka (carrying a helmet) came shuffling in, piping in a high, excited voice about something he’d done with some snow and a tree; this was the famous and frightening Klaus. Bob came over all civilised, and didn’t stand up and thump him (as we’d all hoped he would), despite Klaus having maintained for several months that Bob was a retarded blow-in tourist who couldn’t ski.
Well, now we had to find Stephana’s place for dinner. But first! TB had provided
us with a shopping list; before we got fed, we had to bring the ingredients.
Well, this was a car-ride to end all car-rides. Into the Geo Metro (transl: Very Small
Car) we fitted five largish adults, five pairs of skis and five lots of skiing crap.
We drove around in circles for a bit, before deciding Albertsons probably sold
groceries. So there we were, being very silly in Albertsons (we split up; each person had
to find 2 things…).
A certain person was physically restrained from buying plastic crockery (no, we do NOT
have to bring that too!), and back at the car, triumphant with our loot, we were off, a
Very Small Car full of giggling idiots. Someone eventually pointed out that we should ring
TB at Stephana’s place, to get directions.
So off we went to find a phone! Half an hour later, we found one at the front of the PC
resort.
I told Stephana where we were, and she sent TB to find us.
Well, the occupants of the Sardine Tin got sillier and sillier, and still TB didn’t
show.
Craig stood outside the car, as a sort-of signal to TB. Well, he sure signalled something,
as a rather sporty car containing two well-coiffed gentlemen pulled up, the driver asking
Craig whether he required a lift. Craig hastily got back into the Metro.
Then, a Ford Exploder pulled up (Steph’s car!), just past us. It contained a very
large man, wearing glasses with thick lenses! He was obviously waiting for us to follow
him, so we flashed our lights at him and pulled out.
He then drove over the road into the car park, we followed, then he did a u-turn and drove
out. We followed. Then he stopped and parked! So one of us got out to see what was going
on.
| The investigator returned: "that wasn’t TB! He thought we were
the police…."!!!! Just as we were in grave danger of DYING of excessive laughter, TB found us. He seemed very puzzled at our red faces, tears and wheezing. |
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| So, we got to Stephana’s place, and invaded all the bathrooms for
showers, warpaint application etc. Glen Lamson turned up, as did Buttdawg with a mate who was apparently famous but I don’t know who he was. We feasted: they had that smelly fish, and I got some of TB’s patented smoked brisket (bloody good stuff). Then, Stephana raided her wine cellar and brought forth bottle after bottle of good Aussie red, including a Wolf Blass Grey Label Cabernet (that really needed a good breathe before we got our paws on it). We were meant to be at the PC party by 8.30pm, but that red… |
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| Our fun was RUINED by Kelly Miller (see Whistler chapter of Odyssey) who rang us from
the pub demanding to know where the hell we were, so it was all hands to the cars and bolt
to the Wasatch Brewpub, home of reasonable-strength but as usual over-hopped and
over-priced beer. As we set up sheep, attached sheep, bought beer and attached sheep, several people approached us from different corners of the pub to introduce themselves. A table full of what turned out to be Novell people coveted our sheep! |
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Good Ol Ed arrived, carrying a mysterious ski bag, labelled "top secret" in
duct tape: the special Aussie skis he’d been inventing! Suffice it to say they were the definite hit of the evening. |
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Buttdawg attempted to flog his little tourist guide of interesting things to do in the Wasatch.. Here, Buttdawg attempts to interest his friend in a copy of The Chuting Gallery. Having no success there, he then attempts to interest Glen Lamson in a copy of The
Chuting Gallery. Meanwhile, Tabi interests Kelly Miller in Something. |
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Hey, check Deja News for the 7th of February for the whole sorry tale!
Tabi and I got chauffeur-driven in style back to SLC in Glen’s Subaru, and home again home again jiggedy-jig.
This concludes Chapter 1. In the next chapter, we all ski rather a lot.