The Alps

Yodel-aye-he-hoo!!!
The weekend was spent in the company of the CapGemini consultants, skiing in Australia's Alps at Falls Creek resort. This, for those you unfamiliar with Australia's topography, is a miraculous experience as there's not much in Australia that can pass for a mountain, and even less at sufficient altitude to offer the cold temperatures and snowfall necessary for skiing. Australia's ski season lasts about 3 months and about 10 weeks of that are marginal at best.

Our arrival at Falls Creek was marred by yet another winding Australian road, which was sufficient to bring most of us to the verge of upchucking (and some that shall remain nameless went way beyond the verge and refunded their spleens). At the end of the winding road, one was forced to pay a park entrance fee of $26 per day per vehicle, and then we had to dish out another $30 per head in order to stand around for half an hour waiting for a snowcat to transport us to our accommodation. (It was at this point that an adventurous mother attempted to jump the line citing her "9-year old" as a justification - her pleas fell on unsympathetic ears and I believe it was Uta who waved goodbye as we lurched off).

Despite the rough start, our housing was top-notch (for which we paid top-dollar): jaccuzi, heated floors, leather furniture, and lots of other post-modern, dead-tech, alpine goodies. Saturday's skiing was awesome, due to the blue skies and warm weather (13C). The post-ski drinks were consumed at a pub called The Man, which didn't make much sense to me until we returned there later in the evening (it being pretty much the only lively watering hole in the area), at which point it became clear that The Man was called The Man because apparently women have too much sense to enter such a dive. Uta and I lasted until about midnight, although other more intrepid souls stuck around to see what dawn at The Man looks like (but they don't remember).

Uta and I hit the slopes early on Sunday, and eventually caught up with a couple of others (one lying prostrate in the snow) as our wounded comrades eventually rallied from the previous evening's festivities. Return trip started with another long wait for a snowcat (ours being usurped by a group of Japanese tourists) and another long ride through Spew Lane (although this trip was sans spew). Good trip, some photos here, and now we can look forward to a weekend at home.