No Kangaroos in Austria
In an attempt to keep all the travel blogging happening in spite of it being a couple of months late, her is the next installment which sees me go to the snow alone *cue suspense theme music*
So, I've never been to the snow alone. I had a new job lined up for me to start in the new year as soon as I'd returned form Scotland. Realistically, I should have skipped the snow and stuck to the new job, but hell, I was going to negotiate it and have a 3 day weekend. So, after 1 day in the new job, I headed off back to Grunau Alm Imatal, Austria, where I'd stayed during my summer Busabout tour - remember, the place with the amazing lake and the bike ride to it that nearly killed me. The hostel is a quiet little treasure run by Gerhard who is like the kind uncle everyone wants in the feel good movies. He picks you up from the station, they cook your dinners for you, give great advice and all that.
So I arrived on Friday afternoon and the weather was awful, raining instead of snowing. Since it was already 3pm, I decided it wasn't worth my while to go skiing that day when the lifts closed at 5pm and I needed to hire skis. So I spent the afternoon hanging out with a British chap who'd just hurt his shoulder/ collarbone skiing and had pretty much wiped himself out for the rest of his trip. We went for a walk through the snow and up a part of the mountain towards the piste but thankfully decided that traversing the damp and steep slope wasn't a good idea so went back to the house via the same way we'd come. We hung out by the fire and chatted about skiing and such things and he introduced me to some of the other Aussie guests staying as they came in for dinner. Dinner was exceptional, as per usual.
The next day I got up and headed for the slopes. The weather was just as bad, and I discovered, much to my delight, that the hood on my jacket does in fact fit over my helmet - an excellent solution to the rain running down the back of my neck. Given the weather and the fact it's not a big tourist area and in fact not a big town in general nor a large mountain, there were very few people on the mountain, I often had runs all to myself. This was a good thing because it meant I could concentrate on what I was doing rather than where everyone else was and what they were doing and whether I was on a crash course with them or not. The downside, was it was cold and very wet. So, unsurprisingly I spent a lot more time inside the little huts and bars than I thought I would. But it is quite a delight to ski down a slope, stop half way, pop your skis off and leave them flat on the snow next to about another 40 pairs and cram in to a tiny little hut for a hot chocolate (and more cigarette smoke that I care to think about ever again).
So generally I'd go and do a few runs, come back to one of the huts and dry out a bit, listen to some Austrian folk music played by the musician sitting next to me, go out and do a few more runs. it was quite good really, all by myself, no one to meet or worry about while I took my sweet time going side to side down a run. It was a little lonely though, so not a long term thing to go skiing alone.
I only had one stack in my whole day, and what a spectacularly stupid stack it was. I was heading up a T-bar on an empty run, I was the only person on the T-bar, as I dismounted, i didn't quite get the T bar clear and it caught my right leg sending me arse over tit in to the snow right in front of the lift operator. He came out to check I was alright, I was pissing myself laughing and he said something in Austrian, to which I replied I only spoke English. He then told me how elegant I was and we both laughed. I headed back down the slope and up the T-bar once more, making sure to dismount properly with thumbs up to the lifty as I was, once again, the only person on the mountain. I even got a round of applause - I'm so cool.
By about 3.30-4pm, I was soaked through, tired and not really keen to do any more skiing. I'd reserved my skis for the next day in case I wanted to ski in the morning, but I was so knackered that I cancelled it and just paid for the one day hire and was done. I went back to the house and had a lie down, which lasted well over an hour, I must have been tired. The next day Gerhard tried to convince me I should go back up for another morning of skiing, but the weather wasn't any better and I didn't feel like getting all my gear wet again. He even offered me a loan of the hostel's gear, but I was content to sit down and write postcards, read my book and generally relax. I headed home that afternoon and got home relatively late but satisfied with my little skiing jaunt!
Grunau does remain the only place I haven't managed to get a patch for my quilt from, mind you I shouldn't be surprised, it's not exactly tourist haven.
So, I've never been to the snow alone. I had a new job lined up for me to start in the new year as soon as I'd returned form Scotland. Realistically, I should have skipped the snow and stuck to the new job, but hell, I was going to negotiate it and have a 3 day weekend. So, after 1 day in the new job, I headed off back to Grunau Alm Imatal, Austria, where I'd stayed during my summer Busabout tour - remember, the place with the amazing lake and the bike ride to it that nearly killed me. The hostel is a quiet little treasure run by Gerhard who is like the kind uncle everyone wants in the feel good movies. He picks you up from the station, they cook your dinners for you, give great advice and all that.
So I arrived on Friday afternoon and the weather was awful, raining instead of snowing. Since it was already 3pm, I decided it wasn't worth my while to go skiing that day when the lifts closed at 5pm and I needed to hire skis. So I spent the afternoon hanging out with a British chap who'd just hurt his shoulder/ collarbone skiing and had pretty much wiped himself out for the rest of his trip. We went for a walk through the snow and up a part of the mountain towards the piste but thankfully decided that traversing the damp and steep slope wasn't a good idea so went back to the house via the same way we'd come. We hung out by the fire and chatted about skiing and such things and he introduced me to some of the other Aussie guests staying as they came in for dinner. Dinner was exceptional, as per usual.
The next day I got up and headed for the slopes. The weather was just as bad, and I discovered, much to my delight, that the hood on my jacket does in fact fit over my helmet - an excellent solution to the rain running down the back of my neck. Given the weather and the fact it's not a big tourist area and in fact not a big town in general nor a large mountain, there were very few people on the mountain, I often had runs all to myself. This was a good thing because it meant I could concentrate on what I was doing rather than where everyone else was and what they were doing and whether I was on a crash course with them or not. The downside, was it was cold and very wet. So, unsurprisingly I spent a lot more time inside the little huts and bars than I thought I would. But it is quite a delight to ski down a slope, stop half way, pop your skis off and leave them flat on the snow next to about another 40 pairs and cram in to a tiny little hut for a hot chocolate (and more cigarette smoke that I care to think about ever again).
So generally I'd go and do a few runs, come back to one of the huts and dry out a bit, listen to some Austrian folk music played by the musician sitting next to me, go out and do a few more runs. it was quite good really, all by myself, no one to meet or worry about while I took my sweet time going side to side down a run. It was a little lonely though, so not a long term thing to go skiing alone.
I only had one stack in my whole day, and what a spectacularly stupid stack it was. I was heading up a T-bar on an empty run, I was the only person on the T-bar, as I dismounted, i didn't quite get the T bar clear and it caught my right leg sending me arse over tit in to the snow right in front of the lift operator. He came out to check I was alright, I was pissing myself laughing and he said something in Austrian, to which I replied I only spoke English. He then told me how elegant I was and we both laughed. I headed back down the slope and up the T-bar once more, making sure to dismount properly with thumbs up to the lifty as I was, once again, the only person on the mountain. I even got a round of applause - I'm so cool.
By about 3.30-4pm, I was soaked through, tired and not really keen to do any more skiing. I'd reserved my skis for the next day in case I wanted to ski in the morning, but I was so knackered that I cancelled it and just paid for the one day hire and was done. I went back to the house and had a lie down, which lasted well over an hour, I must have been tired. The next day Gerhard tried to convince me I should go back up for another morning of skiing, but the weather wasn't any better and I didn't feel like getting all my gear wet again. He even offered me a loan of the hostel's gear, but I was content to sit down and write postcards, read my book and generally relax. I headed home that afternoon and got home relatively late but satisfied with my little skiing jaunt!
Grunau does remain the only place I haven't managed to get a patch for my quilt from, mind you I shouldn't be surprised, it's not exactly tourist haven.