Murder in the alps energy refill
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But as the day unfolded and powder fever raged, even the most secret runs were getting ‘tracked out’. They made a good team-quick, competent, intimately familiar with the mountain-and they were finding plenty of fresh lines. That day, Harmer teamed up with an old friend, Geoffrey Blackler, another winter local for whom skiing had become something of a spiritual pursuit. Surprisingly, I relaxed and just tried to go with it-I think I had accepted my fate.” Binning came to a halt at the bottom of the hill with little more than a torn knee ligament. The avalanche took me and I started cartwheeling at high speed down the face. “I tried to ski out of the slide, but the force was too great. “The face that originally looked like powder heaven turned into jigsaw pieces,” she says. A metre and a half of powder snow had fallen in one week, and the slope was unstable.
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Avalanches involving skiers are rarely caught on camera, but when extreme skier Andrea Binning carved down a face of fresh snow above Knight Inlet in British Columbia, Canada, she was being followed by a helicopter full of filmmakers and photographers recording the run for a video. Driving a mountain shuttle wasn’t much of a job, but it paid for his skiing and allowed him to do it every day. Like most seasoned ski bums-this was his 12th winter here-Harmer did not work for money, but for the opportunity to ski. He did his talk on the double, eager to hit the slopes himself. As he did most mornings during winter, Dave Harmer drove the ski shuttle bus up the mountain to the Treble Cone ski field, near Wanaka, gave his passengers an orientation talk in the carpark and ensured they all knew the departure time. That Sunday was the powder day of the season, the biggest in years. Tradesmen down tools and race up hill, and even classrooms are empty (and this despite stern memos from principals that parents are not allowed to take their kids out of school on “powder days”).
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Shops are closed, with signs hanging in the windows proclaiming, “Powder day! Back in the afternoon”. On such occasions, ski towns in Queenstown, Ohakune, Methven and Wanaka are gripped by ‘powder fever’. All of it fell without wind-a rare thing in New Zealand-and by morning lay upon the southern ski fields like an eiderdown. On the night of August 18, 2001, a slow-moving depression engulfed the Southern Alps and dumped more than 60 cm of snow on the mountains around Wanaka.