The time had finally come. Nearly a year since we’d returned—battered, bruised, and smiling from ear to ear—from the last adventure, it was time for the second annual Saalbach-Hinterglemm Ski Trip. We lost a few squad members to work obligations and weddings and opted for a tame four days of skiing compared to last year’s eight, but otherwise the trip remained the same. We had only three goals: catch up with family and friends, eat and drink until we roll rather than walk, and ski until the only remedy was a hot shower and tall glass of beer.
Over the first two days we revisited the same runs as a year before with a bright blue sun-filled sky. I raced down the mountain with my cousins only to wait for our parents run after run; stopping only for a schnitzel or an afternoon beer. After a heavy lunch on our third day on the mountain we made our way outside to a ripping wind. Snow whipped up into our faces no matter which way we looked.
We contemplated calling it a day when it started to hail. Ice balls 4mm thick pelted us from above. The decision was made. The weather had defeated us. We covered our faces as best we could and rode the fine line between getting out of the hail quickly and skiing so fast that the pain from the hail became unbearable.
Some time during the night the hail turned to soft snowflakes that accumulated into fluffy pillows, covering everything in sight. We awoke to a winter wonderland and rushed to the slopes. It took us hardly any time at all to find a wide, billowing slope without a soul in sight. We surfed down that slope over and over and over again, weaving between each other and the trees. Our tracks covered the whole mountainside and there was no fresh snow left to float on when we went inside for a hot lunch and a cold drink.
