OTHER THINGS TO DO ON MOUNTAINS





God, I hated that stupid hat!


 As a sickly little brat between the ages of 5-7, I must have had every dose of childrens' sickness
there was to be had. Whooping Cough, Measles, German Measles, Mumps and the one that nearly
did for me...... Chicken Pox. Medication really wasn't up to much back then and after about 5 weeks
of the Chicken Pox I was failing to thrive and the Doctors were giving up hope and now considered
me to be too ill to be moved as I had slipped into a coma and my breathing was very shallow.
 Finally the Doctors gave my mother the news that, in their opinion, I would be unlikely to make it
through the night. Now I'm not an overly religious individual but the local Vicar is called and he duly
arrives and goes through "last rites" and that was supposedly the end of it .......... and ME!

 Seems the Grim Reaper and I got to talking, and surprize, surprize when mother arrives in the
morning I'm sitting up in bed. However the 2 weeks in a coma had taken their toll and my rib cage
had become so weak that it had virtually collapsed. When I was strong enough it was time to go
to a major London hospital where the Doctors suggested that I needed prolonged exposure to
crisp mountain air. Consequently mother took a job and worked herself into the ground trying to
earn enough money to pay for the two of us to go to Switzerland for six weeks.

 I pause here for a little aside as I just remembered that in my village of Bridge, 3 miles from
 Canterbury we had a whole load of people who had names linked to their profession...... and the
reason I remember was the local Vicar, so here's the batting order;

Vicar/Preist               Rev CHURCH     (Capt)

Baker                        Fred BAKER

Electrician                 Frank SHORTER

 ???                          Bob CARPENTER    .......(plumber)

Car repairs               Henry FORD         ........(honest, as I live and breathe)

 

 Back to the story...... Its now January so across the Channel to Calais we go and onto the
overnight sleeper through Europe. In the early hours we are in Interlaken Switzerland and then
off into the mountains to a little village called Beattenberg. Same morning and I'm outfitted with
the skis of the day and the equally primitive boots. Lace up boots, with two sets of laces and skis
that were nearly twice my height. Crap to turn, but boy were they fast! No ski school here, so
only way to learn...... trial and error, and a lot of see like monkey, do like monkey.



These skis are longer than Bode Miller's!


 No lifts so as experience is gained just climb higher and higher up the hill then let her rip. No
turning just balls out until you came to a stop then turn round and start climbing. A couple of
weeks of this and it's getting a bit boring especially as I'm on my own and there are very few
people in this remote area. The only thing here is a full blown ski jump. So one weekend there is
lots of bunting everywhere and suddenly the slopes are alive with people who are all crowding
the jump. Obviously Joe Dumbknuckle goes to watch...... and after lots of study I decide this is my
next adventure.



No lift you say ?

 The following week I secretly start my training so as the Sun starts to go down I'm building the
prototype jump. Take several scoops of snow and build up a bit of a ramp, pat it down smooth off
and put it in the fridge overnight at -30. Following morning it's rock hard. Now I've seen how "they"
did it so take these pole things and jam them in the snow and that will be the start gate. Obviously
the higher up I go the faster I will be when I get to the jump etc, etc. So from small beginings .......
soon the little bumps were growing on the hillside and like Donald Trump every project was bigger
than the last. I expect the local villagers had a good laugh watching the mad English child building
things in the snow...... "Oh yes my dear, he's here for health reasons, poor boy!"




Up, up and .... Awaay


 So with some very rare footage from the Kodak Box Brownie here I am in the early stages of the
ski jumping hobby. Years later I go skiing with the school and then having joined the RAF I am sent
on a Ski Instructor's Course in the Lebanon of all places (more of that in another story)




 Due to circumstances beyond my control my children never learned to ski so it was a real pleasure
to take them to Telluride last winter. They both took to it pretty well and finally my son shows a bit
of promise both on the snow and on some of my bikes...... yet another story.



Edward on Day 2






 Tony Down




    Ok,  so it's back to bikes for a few articles, there are 56 now so read some of the early ones
you might have missed