Is ‘Off Piste’ just another way of saying ‘Lost’?
In which Mrs P and I listen to the sound of silence while skiing above Beitostølen
Daily ramblings and are Alpine huts a victim of their own success?
In which I update you on our first snowy mountain of the trip and rant about the cost of alpine huts.
So much for one post a day.
In which I try to make up for a complete failure to blog daily by posting one blog that covers a whole week
It’s All Relative.
The precursor to this weekend began way back in the early nineteen-eighties when Mrs P was asked to be a bridesmaid at her second cousin’s wedding.
I got blisters on my fingers!
In which I get blistered hands from climbing fast to avoid a huge thunderstorm. And in which Julie Andrews gets a mention. I wonder if she ever thinks of me?
Sisyphus meets the Fern Pass.
Our seemingly sisyphean task of crossing the Fern Pass into Austria is finally over as we arrive in Nassereith.
Slip sliding away
A low of -19°C with winds of around 40 kmph gave a windchill of around -30°C.
But that’s okay. We ain’t here to go windsurfing.
In defence of Costa Blanca
In short, come to the Costa Blanca. Ignore the bad press. Hide your campervan in the free parking for a few days…