Big LePowski

Mid-season blues. I’d heard about them, but never actually witnessed them. Four years ago, I did a winter in Kitzbuhel and, yes, the seasonnaires got a bit fed-up, but not at the same time or in numbers.

Fast forward to St Anton, 2010. Bloody hell, it was like a rabble of mentalists had escaped en masse from an asylum.

The full moon probably didn’t help, but – on one particular night out – it seemed that everyone I talked to had lost their mind.

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