Started the Easter weekend off with watching Iceage and eating Icecream at Ute's with the gang on Friday. Then, instead of working on my lardy arse and going to watch Iceage 2, I drove up north to Blönduos to meet up with Steinar. He was up there with Gunni and Gunni's girlfriend, whose name escapes me, which is my punishment for being so slack writing these up.
Watched a bit of Spartacus. Such quality Easter viewing. Skiing at Tindastól the next day. After a stop to go and pillage the local cafe for a flask of coffee of course. Pretty good conditions, much better than the last time I'd been there. More snow for starters :) Having a good time, until it started dumping snow. I'd left my glasses behind :) It was almost bearable for a while. The grooming was so perfect and even, you could (and I did) just close your eyes and ski down by feel. Of course, it stings a bit, and all you can do is slow turns, so not really a long term plan :)
Bought a pair of sunnies and returned to the slopes, hell bent on some shreddage, taking advantage of the steadily falling powder.
But alas, it was not to be. Barely a couple of runs after I'd procured eye protection the lift stopped. And the music. Seems the power had been cut. Somewhere. The owner started investigating, but didn't really have any good ideas as to when (if) it might come back on.
We hung out for a while, drinking coffee, and having a play in the wonderfully deep powder. Gunni and Kjartan (Steinar's brother) tried to show off by skiing rails in the "park" behind the back shed. Eventually even that was called a day, and we retired to Blönduos, and home.
But of course, that was not the end of our adventures. Oh no.
I cleverly asked Gunni why the petrol gauge was reading empty when we were still driving. He replied that it was broken, but we had plenty of petrol. This absolutely irrelevant discussion (trust the driver/owner) masked the sound of the roof rack giving way, and starting to launch skis.
Eventually, a few skis (mine, as luck would have it) managed to fall onto the road and make enough noise for us to hear. All safely recovered, just a few dents. Back on the road.
And then off again. Out of petrol. "Kjartan? Can you come back out and pick us up please?" Towed about 7km into Blönduos. Much to the merriment of the gathered onlookers loitering in the Blönduos Esso of a Saturday afternoon. Including Siggi, and a collection of other friends, on their way back from Akureyri.
Back in my car we were of course, event free, stopping just for a couple of happy snaps on the way home.