In my previous post I mentioned that Valle de Bravo is world famous for its history of 100% flyable days during the last 13 years of competitions here.  For its crazy consistent microclimate.  Well, yesterday and today we made history, as both days’ tasks were canceled because of never-seen-before conditions in January – specifically, a freak west wind stronger than ever at this time of year (caused, it seems, by some combination of the shifting jet stream currents and a north front that’s penetrated deeper south than usual).

On my way here, on Dec. 26, in Washington, DC, it was 21 degrees Celsius.  At the same time, the north pole was melting at just above 0 Celsius, the American Rockies had meters and meters of snow, the US South and Midwest were being battered by extreme flooding and tornadoes, while the whole Alps had barely a dusting of snow.

And as the weather all around the world is freaking out more and more, I feel the effects of it particularly acutely – I see it, I feel it, I understand it, I fly it, I ski it, and I cause it, as I travel by plane, as I drive my car, as I consume and just plain live in this self-destructive society.  And, to be honest, I am fucking scared of it.  Because this is just the beginning of a long and intensifying process of radicalisation of our climate and weather.

And as global warming is hitting the whole world with extreme weather, (almost) all that’s left to us to do is cling to the beauty of life like a wake boarder to a speed boat’s rope handle, doing the best we can, cruising somehow still in style, surfing that beautiful bitch that is left to us by us, with a smile on our faces, just living the short but beautiful lives we have on this doomed earth.

Tomorrow is the last day of the Monarca comp, and forecast’s looking more promising.  I’m third in the overall ranking, after a dominating, splendid Maxime Pinot and a solid Pepe Malecki.  Tomorrow we finish the job.  Before the World Cup circus arrives in town next week and we start the big game.