It was a hot, dry, tiresome summer. Winter was long gone and being a skier I was beginning to come down with a phenomenon all obsessive skiers can relate to; skier’s insomnia. All I could think about was skiing, it was horrible. I began to wonder how I was going to cope. The only known cure to that addictive stuff called snow was in the Northern Hemisphere. But I was lost for ideas. What could I afford? Where could I go? I racked my brain ... Revelstoke, The States, Europe? There were too many choices. Plus I had minimal money for a trip like that. Things were looking bleak and my insomnia was getting worse at the prospect of summer at home.

Then I heard from my cousin Sam Ashcroft, who has been based in the Swiss town of Verbier for the last four years. He had heard of my plight and offered me a couch to crash on if I could make it to Europe. Then, coincidently, I got a call from Fraser McDougall. He was heading to Europe and was looking for a ski buddy. It had to be a sign. I started working more hours and soon had enough cash together to book myself a flight to Verbier, Switzerland... YEEEOOOW!

I arrived in Verbier after 30 hours of traveling, from the 30ºC of the hot dry Canterbury Plains to -15ºC in the rugged snowy Alps of Switzerland. It was my first day in Verbier and I was so pumped I couldn’t wait to get on the hill. After spending my life savings on a pass I jumped on the first lift. I couldn’t believe this place - it was huge. The tram literally drops you on top of a 3000m peak and the only way down is to ski some of the gnarliest faces I’ve ever seen.

Sam took me on a tour of about a quarter of the lifts (probably the equivalent of skiing Olympus, Craigieburn and Broken River all in one day). I couldn’t believe what a monstrous place this was. It was intense. Looking at lines people had already skied I wondered in amazement, how had they got up there let alone skied it? Coming from a club-field like Olympus I wasn’t prepared for anything as huge as this, it made anything I’d ever skied before seem insignificant! I couldn’t wait to get out and shred the rest of the place and through cousin Sam I got the chance to meet and ski with all kinds of cool people.

I soon worked out that there are two types of people who live in Verbier; the people who are there to party every night without fail, and the people who are there to take advantage of the insane mountains. The culture is incredible – everyone eats, sleeps and breathes skiing, whether at Après-ski or on the mountain. I was quickly introduced to a lot of people, one of whom was Tero Repo, a crazy Finnish photographer. He’d done a lot of shooting with Kiwis the year before and was keen-as to head out.

A couple of days later I got a call from Tero. Fraser McDougall had just arrived and we headed up the hill to meet him. We had an epic session on a feature in a couloir that Tero had picked out. Unfortunately, Fraser came unstuck on the run out and dislocated

Shot For The Very First Time

Photos By Yves GarneauWords By Tom Brownlee

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The Madonna lay-back

his shoulder, putting him firmly on the couch – or chatting to Swedish girls at Après-ski.

The next day, while shooting, Tero wanted me to have a slightly brighter jacket. Without thinking I immediately broke out my old ripped purple Mt Olympus Patrollers jacket from the 80s. He loved it! This jacket came from the dress-up box in the hut at Mt Olympus and ever since I found it I’ve never taken it off. I’ve worn it through comps, other shoots and just shredding around the place! What better way to advertise such a dope field than a purple jacket with a Mt Olympus logo on the back? I hope you guys don’t mind I’ve still got it!

From here my luck seemed to get better and better. Through Tero I met Yves Garneau, another renowned photographer and the next day I found myself heading over to Bruson for one of the best days of my trip! When I met Yves in the valley it was -16ºC. He seemed to be looking at me in sorrow as I strolled up to him in the old jacket. I didn’t really pick up why he was looking at me this way until he opened the boot of his car and offered me a warmer jacket. I had to turn it down, the old Olympus jacket was just too sick to take off.

It turned out to be an epic powder day, I shredded for the camera and came away with some great shots. Over the next few weeks I was holed up in Verbier, shooting from time to time when Tero and Yves were keen, and skiing full on with the locals in-between. Fraser was injured and couldn’t ski so he was deep in the partying life of Verbier and dragged me along whenever he could.

This season in Europe was an epic one and I slept like a rock every night. Every dream comes to an end however, and the end of this one was an all-nighter at Mardi Gras, the biggest night of the year in Verbier. The following morning I slept at Geneva airport with my bags strapped to me, finally boarding that early flight back to New Zealand. I was back into summer and Uni, sitting in lectures drawing pictures of skiing, and wishing that the chick two rows in front knew I could ski like my pictures. Ah well, time to start working towards the New Zealand season and the following season in Europe, where dreams will hopefully come true again. Skiers insomnia is back!

Lincoln in the clouds

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Bruson at it's best The cure

Swoosh!

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