The nondescript guy sitting on the chairlift next to you is probably a brain surgeon, and the bloke teaching your kids probably has a PhD in something or other.

On a recent trip to Austria I skied with a bloke who has - and I am not making this up - built a jet aeroplane in his garage.

As you do.

If I ever build anything in my garage it is usually something like a wooden kitchen stool which falls apart after three uses.

But an aeroplane?

Christian Meier, 39, is a ski instructor at Kitzbuhel, and I thought he was pulling my leg until he produced his iPod and showed me pictures of his plane.

It's a two-seater which looked like an air force jet as it flew over the Alps on his screen.

It took Christian and his dad seven years to build and seems to have cost them several hundred thousand dollars.

To get the plane passed fit to fly, he had to demonstrate each wing could withstand a two-tonne load.

So he phoned a cement company and ordered 100 bags - not to buy, just to rent for the weekend.

He plonked them on each wing and, voila, the authorities were satisfied.

I can imagine the look on the face of the cement company employee who took the order, and was told it would all be returned on Monday.

Christian has also served as a so-called "route commando" on Kitzbuhel's famous Hahnenkamm downhill race - he's one of the guys who ski after each competitor to smooth down the icy slopes.

If the cement company thought he was crazy, he reckons the Hahnenkamm racers are doubly crazy, and I'm inclined to agree.

I fulfilled a lifelong ambition by skiing down the famous run, with Christian explaining the finer points as we went.

You simply have to be crackers to fly down that icy piste at speeds of up to 150km/h, making 80m jumps and landing on one ski edge on the sharply bevelled slope, with just a helmet to protect you and two razor-sharp planks to help guide you.