I was going to wait until I collected photos off everyone and do one mega supremo skiblog but it has become quite clear that's not going to happen anytime soon. So instead I've decided to do it in parts. This means that those who took their camera to the snow get a blog post of their own. Yes, you may cry in joy.
It all began like this; hobo-ing around Ivanhoe Station, waiting for a train. It's pretty obvious from these photos that morning-people are indeed of rarity - everyone looks half asleep; and it wasn't even that early.
Good ol' Mee's Bus. It brings back memories from those truly awful Ivanhoe Ski team days when I had to get up at 5:30am every Sunday just to ski for a couple of hours. The way back was even worse; all cramped together in those tiny bus seats in our sweaty ski gear and wet wet socks. God damn I hate that wet socks sensation. I'm traumatized to this day.
Back to this year's snow trip, here we have a nice looking, standard shot of the mountain. I think it was taken from the verandah of our lodge. It's missing some key ingredients though, like, snow, for example.
The worse thing is that we were completely sober.
My babies - I individually wrapped each bottle in newspaper so they wouldn't break, and thankfully they didn't. Those beers + some more in the fridge would be consumed during the course of the week, and they provided to be the perfect antidote to those tiring days of bumming around the mountain.
Whose feet are they?
Oh Tiff, you're here.
I don't exactly know why I put this up.
The snow wasn't very good. The only runs that were open were BB1, Summit and the first half of Little Buler Spur. So instead of just pointlessly gunning down those piss weak hills with my main tool of the trade (aka the board), I decided to hire a pair of skis and tried to learn something different, which was relatively interesting if not mildly amusing. Kudos to Josh who also abandoned his familiarity with skiing and tried snowboarding.
Nice standard shot no. 2. Also missing snow.
I've never seen Michael so happy...
Yes I am playing the guitar. Yes I am giving you the finger. All this bs about only women being able to multitask is, well, bs.
On one of the nights, five of us (I don't exactly remember who) played some intense poker. It ended rather unexpectedly when Josh and I, who were the last two remaining, decided to split the winnings, much to the digust of everyone. Well we won some money, they didn't.
What else was digusting was the injury sustained by Michael. Apparently he had stacked on one of the runs and was trying to get himself together when some random girl rammed her skis unto his knee. When he caught up with us at the bottom of the hill he laughed at how his ski pants were sliced so cleanly at the knee.
He was later to discover that the pants weren't the only thing that was sliced open; but his knee as well. Apparently there was blood going everywhere. This was the result of the accident:
Eww. Ah well, at least the scar will look bad-ass once it heals up. Or like a vagina (as someone commented). We've already given it a name: Vagina Knee, or Kneegina.
So that pretty much ended skiing part of Michael's ski trip, but we did have a pretty huge night on Wednesday down at Kooroora. Let's just say, a fair share of alcohol was consumed and everybody had fun. Except for Alex. Teehee.
You can't tell from this picture, but I'm the more drunk one here.
Josh loves that pose. I love teh sherpa goodness.
Thought I'd better chuck some Cam on there since these are his photos.
Well that's pretty much it for Cam's photos. Everything went down pretty smoothly except for Michael's painful accident.
On the way home.