Above ground my team-mates were busy organising themselves. Stephane had instructed everyone to switch off their avalanche detectors. He hopped around the snow trying to locate me. After a couple of minutes he picked up my signal and pinpointed me by extending a thin rod and probing through the snow.
I don't recall feeling it but I had two small bruises where it connected with my waist, so I was obviously out cold at this point. Lee had been putting together the shovel he had been carrying and everyone started digging for their lives. Or rather, mine.
Dan, the organiser of the holiday, was a family friend. Our mums are best friends and I had known Dan since childhood. Time was ticking away and Danny Rob consoled Dan, explaining; "after this much time without oxygen, even if we were able to resuscitate Loz he will never be the same. He will have serious brain damage and he will not be able to speak or walk."
Dan carried on digging listening to the instructions from Danny Rob and Alex. Quite by chance, this year's expedition had two doctors with us. My advice to anyone going off-piste, always take a thoracic heart surgeon and a casualty doctor with you!
The two doctors gave clear instructions to the group that as soon as they were able to get access to my mouth they were to move out of the way and let the professionals take over.
Eight minutes passed before they managed to pull me from the snow.
I was unconscious, not breathing with little or no pulse.
I awoke to what I can only describe as the softest lips I have ever felt and the worst headache imaginable. Danny Rob, the chap who originally knocked me off my board brought me around. Using some rather severe tactics including punching, slapping and putting his hands down my throat to provoke a reaction.
I felt battered and bruised, but I was alive and although disorientated I had miraculously survived.