It seems an age since we were in Germany for our annual Winter visit at New Year. On the day pictured, we did our usual circuit up the road, along the edge of the forest and back again, stopping to say hello to the sheep, to inspect the tracks left by the local tractors and wildlife (i.e. dinosaurs), and the lichen (actually, that would only be me). The boy rode his bike all the way round without too much fuss. Such a different experience to last year, where he protested so much at having to walk that I ended up carrying him screaming all the way back whilst dodging regular swipes at my face. Needless to say, this year’s saunter was an altogether more relaxing affair.
And against the odds we got snow! It didn’t make it down the mountain but we made damn sure we got up there. Twice. The first time was for all of five minutes as it became blindingly apparent (quite literally) that sledging in a blizzard was not a good idea. We returned the next day, storm having subsided, to cloudy skies but clear runs. It was so much fun, even for a complete slope/skiphobe like myself. This, I reason, is because on a sled, unlike on skis, your feet are free, giving you much more control. So in contrast to most of my fellow sledders (husband and son included) I have my legs out breaking pretty much all the way down the slope. I may be slow but at least I’m safe.
There’s no phobia for skiing! I’ve just looked it up. How is that? The closest would probably be ‘tachophobia’ or a fear of speed but I mostly only fear speed on a ski slope. Does that count?