Today, Bill took me as far up the mountain as you can go and still get down on blue runs. That meant a ride in a mini-bubble…. a tiny telepherique built for four. You stick your skis on the outside and plop yourself on the inside and hang on for dear life. The ride lasts what felt like forever but was probably more like ten minutes. Carol was more scared of it than I was, but I got motion sick. At least I didn’t barf inside the thing, that would have been horrific for everyone.
It might be a blue run up there, but it wasn’t for me. At the top it was very narrow and to the right side was a pretty steep drop off. Bill said it was not any more narrow than other runs I’ve skied here, but they have trees on either side. I know, running into a tree isn’t much of an alternative to tumbling down the side of the mountain in the snow.
At one point I lost control and stopped by just slamming myself into the side of the mountain. Which, by the way, is covered in snow. So it was a soft landing. On my face. Bill had hung out waiting for me and after watching me ski directly into the snow bank, he pulled me out and made sure nothing was broken and helped me get the rest of the way down. Once we got to where the run was wider, I was much more comfortable but by then my legs were so tired I could barely make it. I had to keep stopping to rest but since I couldn’t sit down, even that wasn’t doing me much good. We finally agreed that it was time for lunch… although that meant skiing nearly all the way to the bottom of the mountain to catch a chair lift to go back to the middle for food. At least on the chair lift you can sit down.
For lunch we decided to try a different eating spot. I’d read that there was one spot with a cluster of different food choices, including a raclette bar. (Raclette is cheese melted by a fire then scraped off onto meat and potatoes. Yum.) Bill and I decided to go for the fondue… since the other night’s fondue was good but wasn’t cheese. Somehow, it just seemed like to have gone to Switzerland and not eaten cheese fondue on a mountain side would have been just plain wrong.
I told Bill after we’d eaten and skied the rest of the way down the mountain into town: I’m glad I went to the top. But I won’t be returning tomorrow.
You know, I have this photo of you bending way over towards the ground while in your skis. I’d say it accurately reflects your physical state of nausea after getting off of the Hornli Express. A dramatic pose, as it were.