I was wrong...
Back home at last and catching up with post, emails and washing. Thought I ought to let you know...
I was wrong.
Skiing is great!
It wasn't when it was bucketing fresh snow and I couldn't see out of my goggles. It wasn't when Mr Squidge and the kids took me to the Austrian side of the resort to share the gentler slopes they'd found with me; most of which turned out so steep (for me) that I ended up walking down the worst of them or screaming my snowploughing way down the narrow ones where there was no room to turn. And it definitely wasn't when my legs started to feel phantom skiing movements when I went to bed...
But it was wonderful when the sun shone on the snow and set it all aglitter. It was wonderful when you were so high in the mountains, the air got fresher and crisper. It was wonderful when we finally reached the Stallenalm hut and sampled Grostl for the first time. And it was wonderful too, when I sat alone on a halted skilift chair in the silence and the whiteness, watching coloured specks curve their way down the broad slopes.
I'll even admit to a little frisson of pleasure when, late in the week, I managed to get up enough speed on the runs down so that the wind whistled under my helmet...
I always said I'd go skiing at least once, to satisfy Mr Squidge's intention to take us as a family.
Somehow, having done it, I don't think once will be enough...
I was wrong.
Skiing is great!
It wasn't when it was bucketing fresh snow and I couldn't see out of my goggles. It wasn't when Mr Squidge and the kids took me to the Austrian side of the resort to share the gentler slopes they'd found with me; most of which turned out so steep (for me) that I ended up walking down the worst of them or screaming my snowploughing way down the narrow ones where there was no room to turn. And it definitely wasn't when my legs started to feel phantom skiing movements when I went to bed...
But it was wonderful when the sun shone on the snow and set it all aglitter. It was wonderful when you were so high in the mountains, the air got fresher and crisper. It was wonderful when we finally reached the Stallenalm hut and sampled Grostl for the first time. And it was wonderful too, when I sat alone on a halted skilift chair in the silence and the whiteness, watching coloured specks curve their way down the broad slopes.
I'll even admit to a little frisson of pleasure when, late in the week, I managed to get up enough speed on the runs down so that the wind whistled under my helmet...
I always said I'd go skiing at least once, to satisfy Mr Squidge's intention to take us as a family.
Somehow, having done it, I don't think once will be enough...
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| Squidge and the Stallenalm Grostl |