Sunday
The alarm is set for 7, a consistent routine throughout the week to ensure we're ready for breakfast, which starts promptly at 7:30. This gives us ample time to savor the meal leisurely and catch the opening of the chair lifts. Glancing outside, the day doesn't seem promising.
Breakfast turns out to be a treat. Overnight soaked oats await us, offering a comforting touch of home with a flourish - the raspberries from yesterday's picnic adding a familiar sweetness. Alongside, an array of breads, cheeses, and treats tempt the senses. Opting for oats and a fruit salad initially. My plans to stay healthy take a turn when my son discovers the option for pancakes, brought to our table by a wandering waiter. Well, why not? I can't pass up the opportunity to indulge!
The large screen in the breakfast area cycles through various webcams stationed around the mountains, providing updates on the weather. Later in the week, I'll appreciate this as a way for planning the day ahead. For now, a bonus will be getting out on the hill, hitting the slopes and reacquainting ourselves with our ski-legs after a twelve months.
Heading out, progress is slow going. Fatigue sets in before we even start. Perhaps it's the altitude or the effects of a full stomach from the previous night's meal. However, it's a relief to find that my Salopettes still fit, snugly, and despite the weight of layers and the biting cold, we press on. Adjusting to new skis proves challenging, especially with poor visibility making navigation difficult. The slopes feel crowded and somewhat perilous. Even our seventeen-year-old, typically confident on the snow, is apprehensive, nursing a recently sprained ankle.
After a couple of runs, we opt for the main chair out of St Christoph. I take a wrong turn, more that I headed straight down and missed the turn. A mistake exacerbated by the limited visibility. A couple of runs and an attempt to re-orientate ourselves. We retreat for a hot chocolate where our son decides to head back, reserving his energy for when the skies clear. Meanwhile, my wife and I soldier on a bit longer before conceding that the conditions are simply not enjoyable. The biting wind and blizzard-like snowfall prompt us to call it a day.
Taking the local bus into town, we find ourselves unexpectedly in an Italian restaurant in Austria! The simplicity of the menu appeals to our weary spirits, and we are not in the mood for the hunt. Familiarity and comforts without fuss. Our son enjoys a Carbonara, a dish that could easily have been split three ways given the amount of pasta. My wife and I settle for side salads and share a pizza.
Back at the hotel, I meander with some words starting my notes, a peppermint tea and explore the pictures on the hotel walls before dinner.
The waiting staff regard us with mild amusement each evening as we request both the German and English menus. It's all part of the experience - an opportunity to immerse ourselves in a new culture and language beyond the confines of a diamond counting language-learning app.
"Gelbes Curry" seems to be a recurring option, and in hindsight, I'm certain I would have been better off gut wise sticking to a plant based meal every night. However, the allure of beef stew proves irresistible. My son makes a wrong choice for him, and I find myself swapping dishes, a Ravioli with strong cheese. To cap off the meal, dessert. It’s either panna cotta, or the “Heisse Liebe”. The three of us opt for the hot love, warm raspberry compote and Ice Cream - a sweet ending to another day of adventure on the slopes.
Monday
Monday greets us with another dreary view from the window - cold and unappetizing. I console myself with an omelette for breakfast while keeping an eye on the screen for updates.
We go through the motions and amazingly the clouds break for a little while. However, lunch proves to be a disappointment as my companion, usually averse to salads, struggles to eat due to an undisclosed digestion issue. An eye bleeding number of Euros for a few pieces of lettuce and a little balsamic. He calls time, his ankle and some kind of digestion problem, and heads back to the hotel. We are able to cut through the restaurant lobby and find that there is no queue for the Valluga cable car, ascending to higher and better snow-covered slopes. We get a couple of runs in before the joy is thwarted as the fog returns, making further descents challenging. We decide to call it a day, feeling too old for this kind of pain in an effort to make the most of our passes.
Dinner offers comfort in the form of beef broth with a dumpling, followed by steak and a shared chocolate soufflé, satisfying our hunger and leaving us content.
Tuesday
I’m tired of looking out the window to a dull day. It’s time for something radical. The lift pass extends to neighboring villages, so I check the weather further up valley. I double check the web cams. There are blue skies a showing. For 8 euros each return we can get up to Lech, different runs and a different aspect. The downside 9.30 and the bus is full to bursting. So like a sardines we stand with our full on ski gear, skis in arm we unable to move as somebody shouts to the driver turn the heating off!
Despite the 25 mins of torture on the crowded bus ride, we arrive eager to discover somewhere new under promising blue skies.
We get up high and find a few runs that are quiet and all starts to feel right with the world. We find lunch at a gourmet mountain place and in an effort to keep the price down we go for Gulaschuppe which I need to find a recipe for. The boy would have loved this. He had a bad night and it’s really not like him.
We aim for the 3.10 bus home, the snow is starting to change on the lower slopes, spring snow and clumpy. My wife calls it leg breaking kind of snow. Moguls are forming, painful and I’ve not got the energy to do them justice. Some folk seem to have the ability to glide through, over and round. I just slide slip down the edge of the piste, a skill in itself but feels like cheating.
We make it to the bottom of the slopes for 3.10, with a 10 minute walk to go. The bus should have left but as we walk to the bus stop, it’s still there. Some folk are refused on, and I follow a guy who claims his ski’s are already on the back. We get on, and then others follow. Another sardine adventure ensues. On reflection writing this up we had a great day, blue sky and some good snow. Another part of the area. The ski’s start to feel like an extension of the mind and the body. I’m in control.
Evening meal, is a fondue of sorts. A salad to start and then a selection of meats and veg to skewer, boil for a few minutes. I’m never quite sure it’s a meal, although fun. The waiters only too pleased to offer more if needed. Dessert, apple fritters and ice cream.
Wednesday
Valentine's Day, holds potential under clear skies. Navigating the slopes strategically, we enjoy filming moments in pristine snow conditions. Dinner, and I choose the fish dish, a deviation in my normal choices. It’s accompanied with a potato rarebit crust sat on a bed of courgettes.
Thursday
The magic happens! 7:11am and compare this to the picture above and the view is picture perfect. It’s going to be a great day!
We don’t mess about for breakfast, getting to the freshly groomed slopes before they get carved up is a priority. The south facing slopes will be carnage later on so in an effort to beat the melting snow we do a couple of known runs and then find a new area close to Stuben, and a prize of a more traditional self serve eatery at albona mittelstation. The prices although steep, feel more comfortable. The feel about the place is better, perhaps the people are different.
I have the Gulaschuppe and my wife the pea soup. My son is back with a bowl of Spaghetti Bolognaise, although doesn’t quite manage all of it. We do the same runs a few times, the snow was much better on this side. We feel the day change the light shift, things become harder to ski as the snow begins to thaw once more on the lower slopes. The cross over the journey back will be fraught if we don’t call time.
Dinner sees us reverting to familiar favorites - yellow curry for me and braised vegetables for my wife, with Heisse Liebe desserts rounding off the meal.
Friday
Friday and it’s another blue sky day, we are blessed, we know the hill, the routes to take and we get the best time of the day, make the first lift at 8:45. We are able to make new tracks in the freshly groomed piste. Just like the first foot prints in the sand once the waves have gone. We put a full on day in, making it to the top of the mountain and back a few times. We go back to the same place we had lunch at yesterday. Some of the lifts show a temperature of 7C, the snow isn’t going to last. It’s horrible in places and It just feels wrong for the time of year. We’ve made the best of it though and return our skis for 4pm. Highlight for dinner is the Buretta starter. Oh my, creamy and soft.
Saturday
The journey back, with no skiing to be done and a late flight (there was no choice, see day1). We have a leisurely breakfast and take the bus into St Anton for a little mooching. The bakery for our elevenses, our lunch and picnic tea. The ski shops have some beautiful gear. At the same time I might need to re-mortgage the house. So it’s just window shopping and dreaming.
Towards the right in this picture is the piste to the lower lift. The patches of snow this time of year really isn’t great. Time to go home!
Pickup from the hotel is early, and we were ready as the rain comes on. A slight pause due to a late connecting taxi, the bus driver anxious, the traffic however is free flowing and easy. As transfers go, for a return of the busiest weeks of the year we were amazed how smooth it was. With the flight leaving on time. Door to door we were home around 10pm.