Morzine

My knee trembled with quaking envisioned fear as we [my knee + I] stood aside + watched everyone leaping into the sky on a makeshift jump in the carpark; which just so happened to mark the highlight of a farily mediocre day of skiing on our road trip to Morzine. Maybe it was because it was minus one hundred, or maybe we were tourists in the area + didn't know where the good hills were, apart from a handsome discovery of a few challenging black runs hosting spectacular flirtations with the edge of the world, we didn't quite get into the groove of it. But nothing was lost, because we found this jump. As the guys edged higher and higher in run up to this rough-and-ready, ready-for-anything kicker I slowly perched closer and closer, creaking my defunct legs in order to form just enough of a bend that would allow me a viewing point that would attempt to pay photographic homage to these leaping lions. Less than a millionth of a second after freezing this frame of the heroic stance of my mate Dimi, I heard a crippling crunching thud ; D-F-F-F-F-F-F-F echoing around the darkening village : Dimi landing. He's ok, by the way. Next time I'm taking some moving footage for my latest X-Treme mountain movie I'm making; watch this space?