Once again I overslept for an hour (oversleeping is better than sleeping) and got to breakfast only at about 0900. I'm allowed; I'm on vacation! The offered me a hard-boiled egg and I told them to boil it for 15 minutes. The old lady cook was shocked, proclaiming, "I have never cooked an egg for 15 minutes!" Well there is a first time for everything, and she succeeded. If she hadn't I could have come back tomorrow, refused an egg, and said, "You have failed me for the last time!" I pocketed the egg, which was too hot to eat, along with a sandwich made of a breakfast roll and two slices of cheese. I ate those on a chairlift in Stuben instead of lunch. They'd gotten roughed up a bit in my pocket but were good enough to keep me going.
Today I spent the morning in Stuben. It's so far to the west that half of it isn't even on the map I linked to in the last post. I got there about 1000. That mountain had some really lovely soft snow but it has its problems. The lifts are all old-fashioned 2-seaters, and they are all placed just inconveniently high enough that you have to trek up to them a short way when you ski to them. The restaurant at the peak there was the silliest of all: there is a big U-shaped dip in the ground before it, and it's not possible to get enough momentum from either side to clear it: besides the tops are chopped up to bits by people's skis climbing up. Both ways, I stopped dead as soon as I hit those parts and had to climb up the rest of the way. I didn't even stay at that restaurant. The high-traffic zones near lifts quickly get skied down to hardpack and ice like in most places. Still, when the sun peeked out momentarily it was possible to see some beautiful snow that was a treat to ski on. There was thick fluffy powder by the sides of some runs and it was a wonderful feeling just plowing through it with my boots and my skis buried under it. There weren't so many people to ruin the snow that far out. I couldn't do that everywhere: some caution is warranted because in places that were bare before there might only be enough new snow to cover up rocks or other hazards that can damage my skis. In Stuben, above the run labeled S3 there is even a nice powder bowl. I enjoyed it so much that I returned for a second run. Once I'd begun my descent I didn't stop until I rejoined the trail, since it wasn't certain I could dig myself out if I got stuck in that stuff.
Once again I forgot to take any sunscreen and again it didn't matter: it was still snowing, harder than before, and with heavy clouds or fog everywhere. Visibility was very low in most places: I heard several people complaining about it on chairlifts. It's a good thing they mark the sides of the pists with many close poles and signs. There was a time this afternoon when if you could see one of them, you couldn't see the next one a few meters past it. There was a run or two in which I was really skiing blind and didn't have any idea where I was or where I was going. I followed some people and some people followed me, hoping any of us knew how to get out of the cloud. Much of the day I simply skied whichever way downhill was anyway, but today I actually uttered the phrase, "Which way is down?"
I joined up for a run with a young woman I met in that cloud who was also skiing alone today. She recognized the Ulmer Hutte and I had a map, so we found our way down to Zammermoos lift. I encountered many British today but didn't join to ski with anyone else - I was a loner again today. It's nice because I can jump into the first position on chairlifts that have a singles line. I skied fairly continuously and didn't stop for lunch but stopped for hot cocoa at the Kapall restaurant (actually only a tiny hut) at about 1400. I thought I would stop soon after since I wanted to finish early and look for some things in the town today, but I ended up going for "one or two more runs" repeatedly until 1600. The lower slopes above St. Anton town were skied out into big pre-moguls spaced far apart, and ice that screamed or hissed when you slid over it. Someone from the East Coast once told me they'd seen so many kinds of hard packed icy snow that they said, "It's not ice unless it's blue." Some of these areas were blue. Whenever there were moguls close enough together that I could pick a good line to turn through, I zipped through them at a comfortable speed.
Near the bottom of run 25 I tried to find the "wellness center" located below the base of Fang chairlift but couldn't see it from the hill, even with my binoculars. Then I skied down from there to the base but had to jostle through large crowds of ski school kids and others finishing their day. I went too far and ended up on Galzig gondola for the first time (hence another few runs.) The ski school instructors here do not fill me with confidence. Right after a sign warning to the effect of "do not stop in narrow parts of the trail" I bumped into at least two ski school classes completely blocking off a narrow chute, and had to ski through them. They frequently chose unsafe stopping places in the middle of the piste, and at the end of the day one ski instructor (without a class, probably doing his end-of-day run) buzzed me and cut off my turn from behind, startling me enough that I jumped. In Utah they didn't allow most of us to ski down in uniform precisely because they didn't trust us not to do that sort of thing and give the ski school a bad name.
Returning to the stop I saw the bus leaving again and so I stopped into the shop and inquired how much it would cost to get my skis sharpened. A simple ski tune & wax costs 27 euros there, which seems like a lot to me. I thought I could maybe bang up my skis some more and then let them service them, but if they have to patch up any holes in the base they charge 37 euros so that won't fly. I could rent a pair of skis for the remainder of the week for not much more than that. With dull edges I can't carve for crap, which is what I normally like to do on piste ever since I learned how to, and these mountains are nearly all pisted... but maybe it is helping me to focus on my rotation and other skills I need to get better at. It would certainly make a big difference in my skiing experience if I tuned my skis, but I'm not sure it's worth it for only three days (they do that overnight.) What do you think, faithful readers?
I showered and changed quickly and caught the 1800 bus back to St. Anton. I had a quest, you see: my lady had sent me in search of the Haribo Goldbären. These are the very gummy bears that she brought me from Germany and used to win my heart in the first place. I love her so much, I could write a book about her but I fear to embarrass her. I figured it would be a nice opportunity to explore the town and get some varied dinner too. With only a few minutes of confused map-staring and meandering around, I found the tourist information office, the pharmacy, countless restaurants and bars, and a grocery store where my quest was accomplished. Now I have the much harder trial of my devotion: not eating them all until I return. I had to take the night bus back and that costs more than all the gummy bears I could stuff into my coat. It's 3.50 euros, making our buses look cheap.
On my way through town I read a lot of menus - there are some interestingly themed restaurants and bars in St. Anton. I saw a pair of girls who got on the bus with me also wandering around reading the same menus. A Chinese called "Shanghai" that offered sushi put me in the mood for oriental food, and before 1900 I settled on a placed called Aquila. I chose it because the dishes that appealed to me were not outrageously expensive, and I liked the atmosphere of the place. It was like a lounge bar, with mellow music, appealing (to me) lighting and decor, and plate glass external walls. The waitress I addressed myself to said that the restaurant was all booked up, though there was nobody there, and offered to let me sit in the small bar area next to it. I had no problem with that: the chair was comfy and I could observe the beautiful people in their coats walking by in the street. Some of them ruined it by pausing to stare at the television over my head.
One gentleman sat at a table near me, also alone, and observed me drinking my glass of beer using only the middle three fingers of my right hand. He must have thought that was the height of elegance because he raised his own beer glass to me in the same way. To my great shame I forgot in the moment of need that the proper toast here is "Prost!" I explained that I hurt my thumb yesterday. The thumb itches while it heals, and feels warm to the touch. He was waiting for someone, his wife I assume, and left some of his beer unfinished when she arrived.
For dinner I had Tom Yam soup and a noodle dish of "roasted" chicken and stir-fry vegetables. Everything was delicious. The Tom Yam soup had a single prawn in it so big and cut into curls so it looked more like two or three prawns stuck together. It was tasty, spicy but also kind of herbal and limey, and filling enough that I could savor my main course. That took a long while to arrive, and I got suspicious when I saw my waitress running to the hotel across the street with something that I can only describe as a bucket that's also a thermos. It was good too, and I had to ask for "sticks" to eat it with - chopsticks didn't translate. I only remembered to photograph the food after I'd already taken a bite, so imagine the parsley crowning the dish.
I'm not a good tourist and didn't take any pictures in town, but I took some on the slopes. I don't link to all the pictures I take, so you should be able to see my album here if you'd like to see a few more.
No comments:
Post a Comment