Alpine Skiing

This picture features one Ski-expert (on left)

There is a reason why it is called "ALPINE SKIING" - because it started in the Alps.  And with such a landscape in our own backyard, we had to give it a spin.  I inquired at the Sporthotel Edelweiss as to where a good location to go would be, and one local pointed straight up the hill to the nearby ski-lift.  It wasn't a full-fledged resort, but he claimed that "SCHWARZENEGGER SKIED HERE 2 YEARS AGO AND SAID IT WAS THE BEST IN AUSTRIA."  Now, I'm not gullible enough to believe every Austrian "Arnold" reference, but I thought, what the heck, if it's good enough for the Governator, it's good enough for us.

So on a bright, clear Sunday morning, we walked the entire 500 meters from our condo to the ski lift at Gotzens, rented our skis, boots, and poles, then headed up the lift.  And who should so happen to meet us in line, but none other than our new, good friends Andy and Lili!  

Christie and Lili, quite the ski bunnies.

This is where the story gets good.  Andy, having grown up here in Innsbruck, began skiing practically before he could walk.  He also is the most fear-less person I have ever met, having been an Olympic bobsledder, downhill mountain bike racer, and of course, "over the middle" specialist for the Raiders receiving corps.  I knew I was in trouble when I saw Andy decked out head to toe in his red Austrian Olympic ski outfit and sparkling skis.

Now I have skied a dozen times in my life, but you can see how I might be a tad bit intimidated heading up the mountain with such a, dare I say, mountain man.  I mean, he even has the grizzly winter beard thing going for him.  In reality, it felt very similar to going to a golf course, and suddenly there on the first tee is Tiger Woods asking you to join his foursome.  You'd probably hook your first one out of bounds as well!  

So there we were on top of the mountain, and I spy a nice wide path to the right down an easy run.  A good warm-up so-to-speak.  But Andy thought the snow would be better down on the Mutters-side, to the left, so he points in that direction and takes off.  The thing he failed to notice was 1) The large moguls; 2) The steep slope; 3) Me needing to 'get acclimated' on skis again, and of course, 4) Me not wanting to just go flying off a cliff.  So I decide to do the smart thing and just slowly ease my way down.  Bad Idea.

It seems that the best way down the slope is to ski, and by me trying to just tip-toe on the snow, I slipped on to my side and started sliding DOWN THE MOUNTAIN.  Not just a few feet, but actually accelerating.  So I again did what any smart person would do, which is grab the leg of a complete stranger to try to stop myself.  Again, BAD IDEA.  Now there was not one, but TWO people sliding down the mountain, only this time one of them was an angry German shouting obscenities in a language I do not know!  At this point I began to panic, not from the danger of the mountain but from the ever-increasing likelihood that this unsuspecting German might begin clubbing me with his poles!  Luckily, we eventually came to a stop about 100 feet later, having cleared a wide lane of destruction.  I looked up, and there was my new, good friend Andy.  Laughing his face off.  I looked up the mountain, and there was Christie, actual tears streaming down her face she was laughing so hard.

"Well," Andy said to me, brushing off the snow, "At least we got that out of the way!"     

The Pro's...

... and the Joes!  (Well, actually Christie the Canadian is very good!)

The rest of the afternoon was quite enjoyable, and it was amazing to be looking down over the little "Alpine" villages below us.  We even stopped halfway down one run to look at our new house... definitely a cool feature.  Lunch was BBQ chicken at a post-card perfect chalet at the top of the mountain, with panoramic views of the entire valley.  Andy gave me a few great tips, and we were very surprised by how gentle and enjoyable the slopes were... that is when we were actually trying to ski them.

~ J. Twice