The stories are true

“So he just stood there on the mountain, dripping wet, naked but for a brown fur coat that reached his shins. I think it was worth him jumping into the hot tub with his clothes on, I mean, we nearly won. I’ll ask him.”

It was when I was halfway through describing one of the season’s last ever parties, Inferno Bar‘s Inter-Spring Festival, that I realised my life had become ridiculous.

Not so long ago, the month ‘April’ was said with a wistful glint of the eye, as seasoned hosts and drivers dreamt of when they could clean their last toilet and wave goodbye their last guests. “April is like Fresher’s Week at Uni on repeat…” they’d say longingly.

And they weren’t wrong.

Morzine has been in full-on festival mood for a fortnight already. House parties have been thrown. Hot tubs hijacked. Bones broken. Skidoos stolen. And these are just the incidents I can write about. There’s a fair few, especially ones involving the Boot Room and an infamous chair, I can never repeat.

Inferno’s Inter-Spring Festival was just another ridiculous end of season party.

It was the launch of local band Cab Collective’s second album, they were playing on top of Inferno’s legendary Double Decker Bus to a panoramic view of the Alps. Seasonnaires danced on the terrace, the tables, the slopes… shots were passed around, the hot tub cover came off and steam billowed off the bubbles into the evening sky.

Shredits creator Mickey Fitz launched the first ever ‘Shredlympics’ games to entertain the crowds. I automatically entered a team with no idea what we were in for. Despite my confidence in sledging experience (I’d ridden down the mountain from this very bar only last week on a ‘borrowed’ kid’s sledge shaped like a toy car), we got knocked out the first round of Relay Sledging. Clearly the cider, or altitude, had gone to my head.

But another team had to forfeit and we breezed through round two (walking on a plank through the crowd whilst balancing a pint of beer, as pictured) to reach the final: The Flip Cup Race.

Onlookers screamed their support as we downed our cups to flip them. They cheered on my teammate Alex as he filled up Gus’s beer funnel with his trousers round his ankles (as the rules stipulated). But even we gasped when Gus downed the beer, raced Alessandro to the hot tub and dove in fully clothed, phone and wallet still in his pockets.

I later bumped into Gus wearing nothing but a brown fur coat that would not look amiss in a 101 Dalmations musical. God knows where he got it.

It was at this point, on the phone to my friend, that I realised my life resembled nothing close to reality. And it made me think of all the stories I’d heard in my time of people doing seasons, you know the ones about the parties, the inflatable animals, the fancy dress, the games, the drinking…

They might just all be true.

(Photography: Sarah Sutherland)

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