Our snowy gem - Selva

Only a few weeks ago we were on holiday in some serious heat.  This holiday finds us flying into Innsbruck - a truly special treat.  The gently rolling foothills of the Alps suddenly give way to jagged Alpine peaks, with snowcapped mountains rising straight up in all directions.  I must admit my heart skips a beat.  The pilots are amazing as are the awe-inspiring aerial views of the stunning peaks.  Truly astounding.

This will be our fourth visit to Selva Val Gardena - part of the Dolomites mountain range, a UNESCO World Natural Heritage Site of indescribable beauty.  The mountain group takes its name from the famous French mineralogist Deodat Gratet de Dolomieu, who first described the light- coloured rocks as dolomite.  Erosion carved the pale rocks into jagged peaks giving the Dolomites their highly characteristic shapes and colouring.  Reinhold Messner, one of the most famous mountain climbers of our generation, once said: "The Dolomites are not the highest, but they are certainly the most beautiful mountains in the world",  an opinion shared by us.

Skiing the Dolomites may prompt the following question, "Am I in the Alps?"  Geographically, of course, the answer would be yes.  Shooting up some 10,000 feet from the chain's southeast foothills, this jagged ridge of 18 limestone peaks stitches together a region vastly independent from the Alps, like the bohemian branch of a grand old aristocratic family.  Politically, they sit in northern Italy, though they don't inherently feel Italian:  rustic mountainside huts serve more spatzle than spaghetti.  Mussolini annexed the region from Austria in 1918 and pushed Italianization, but it never quite took:  Even today many locals prefer speaking the mountain dialect, called Ladin over Italian.

While  glitzy towns to the west draw in a Moet-swigging crush of svelte snow bunnies and loud-money oligarchs the Dolomite villages welcome Italian families and us, who, season after season, ski it's well groomed slopes.  And amid all this distilled Alpine gorgeousness are the rifugi - traditional cozy mountain huts sprinkled across valleys, villages and slopes offering hearty dumplings and ragu, and the requisite hot chocolate or hot punch (as our Instructor preferred) between ski runs.  Since the Dolomites are protected from the tempestuous northerly storms, chances are you'll get a cloudless sky.

Once again we stayed at the Hotel Continental, which occupies a prime (almost) ski-in/ski-out location and the centre of Selva is only a  15 minute walk away, albeit a hilly walk back from town....but the hills are the hills.  Views are fantastic.  The restaurant overlooks the valley below
and the high mountains beyond - a killer view.

Selva itself is a charming, if low key affair, featuring ample hotels, bars and eateries as well as the usual souvenior and sports shops.

The hotel is also directly next door to the Dantercepies gondola for reaching the heights.

And the wellness centre is the perfect place to relax after a long days ski-ing.
The staff are great, and the rooms comfortable. The Linder family are so friendly and helpful, as well as always present to keep things running as smoothly as possible.

Either you love snow or you hate it.  And if, like us, you love it, you'll probably love ski-ing and want to carry on for as long as you can.  But with both of us now well past 60, are we over the hill for ski-ing?

I have always been a recreational rather than a sporty skier, confident on blue and red runs, wary of black.

At least we still have our own knees but my priorities have now changed.  It is no longer about going steeper and faster but ski-ing more slowly and stylishly.  In short, is it possible to ski safely without too much effort?

So Pauline and I once again signed up for ski school whilst "the boys" did their own thing on a ski safari with their instructor Gunter (starting at 8.30 a.m. every morning and finishing at 5 p.m., covering roughly 25 miles each day)!!!!!!!!

After our "test" Pauline and I were assigned to the fast group.  Help. Luckily our ski instructor, Leo, had just the right blend of patience and demand to get the best out of us in a short space of time.  He assumed the role of guide and psychologist as well as teaching a lot of technical knowledge.  Beaming words of encouragement and leading us, the three hours every day quickly passed, up and down, up and down, and at 1 p.m. Leo eventually took his leave.  At least we had stayed upright:  we were even enjoying ourselves.  But had we nailed it?  At the end of the week I think we had.
Just following in the tracks of an expert helps your skiing no end, I thought, as we carved our way in a relatively elegant line down the mountainside.  Following in Leo's tracks I managed to get a decent rhythm in the turns.  We soon found our groove and passed the week twisting and turning down sumptuous slopes, steep enough to get that inimitable rush but wide enough to feel safe. And I never felt overtaxed or tired at any point during the week and was free of aches and pains, thanks to the soothing jazzui at the Continental.

                                                          The Saslong men's downhill ski run.  Which way did Leo go?  You guessed it A - the black run!!!

and a Bear we passed on one ski route.  (Beautifully carved).
For the boys there are 12 varied ski areas in total to explore and they had a super time on their Ski Safaris.  Val Gardena alone boasts 175 kms of runs connected by 79 lifts and I think they skied them all.

Lunch with Rosie is a great restorative, especially when taken in brilliant sunshine on the terrace of a restaurant. The mountain weather can change from snowy winter to what felt like blazing summer in the space of a morning. There's more to life than ski-ing in Val Gardena and with a little mapwork Rosie, a non-skier, roams these Alps freely in the morning and then we meet up for lunch and Hugos - a delicious elderflower and prosecco cocktail. The word Hugo is a derivative of the old high German word 'hugu' meaning 'mind', 'heart' and 'spirit'.  The cocktail is believed to have originated in Tyrol, the western part of Austria famous worldwide for its ski resorts.  It is refreshing and light, similar in look and taste to the already popular mojito.  It has to be 6 o'clock somewhere but who cares, it is always time for a Hugo.  But wait, what's a Hugo.

Hugo = 100 ml Prosecco
                50 ml sparkling mineral water
                25 ml elderflower cordial
                A twist of fresh lime
                A sprig of fresh mint
                Ice cubes.                                

The one aperitivo guaranteed to have you smiling and dreaming about a winter vacation in the mountains.  Yodel-Ay-Eo-Oooo!

And in the evening we sit, eat, recharge - and think about how we can't wait for the sun to rise tomorrow so we can do it all again.

A week in the Dolomites is wonderful.  There's always another mountain to hurl yourself down.  But is it worth it?

SI, ASSOLUTAMENTE.

Snowmageddon

The Beast from the East has arrived and yesterday we woke up to a winter wonderland but unfortunately our central heating was not working.  Extreme cold had stalled our modern condensing boiler.  The process condenses moisture in the gases and the waste liquid is expelled into the drains via a slim plastic pipe - a pipe which is prone to freezing in particularly cold weather, stalling the entire system.

This was how much ice was in the pipe!!!!!

Phil was a hero and at 7.30 a.m. was up a ladder in the freezing cold unfreezing the pipe using a hair dryer.  He got the boiler working again but it's time to think of a longer-term solution.
Fortunately, we also have a real fire to keep us warm.

When March comes in like a lion it goes out like a lamb", goes an old saying and this March arrived with a ferocious lion's entrance.  The Met Office gave its highest and rarest weather alerts - red warnings.

And today the snow was even deeper. So soft and fluffy we couldn't build a snowman.  Champagne powder because it was below freezing when it snowed.

Brrr!

                                                 

Hundreds of schools are closed in the UK and Chloe's is one of them.

 I remember when I was a child, waking up and running outside into the garden and catching the snowflakes with my tongue.  Now it's the grandchildren's turn.

And I found some old photos of Alun and Caroline enjoying the snow.  I think Caroline was four.

                                         Was Alun pushed or did he fall?

Snow makes even the most ordinary places look like a scene from a fairy tale.....as if you'd been kidnapped while you slept and woke up in Narnia.

Talking of books - Emmie's school didn't shut for snow but she wasn't upset because it is World Book Day and she loves her fantastic costume.  Well done Mummy.

However, the south-west of England and Wales are bracing themselves for more snow as Storm Emma makes its way up from France to meet the Beast from the East.  Red 'danger to life' weather warnings have been issued from 15.00 hrs.

                                                           I know its cold but...............

Stay warm and safe in the snow.

Winter Bites Back.

We woke up to a smattering of snow in Milford on Sea on
Sunday morning (18th March) as the "mini beast from the east"
arrived.  Snow on the South Coast!

The beach was looking very festive and Jamie wanted to know
when Father Christmas was coming!

Simple joy of snow for children.  It was bitterly cold though.

Hopefully the beast will relax its grip.

March may have come in roaring in like a lion, but will it go out like a lamb?  The upheaval in the stratosphere over the Arctic that triggered this freeze looks likely to reverberate through most of March, especially in the northern parts of the UK.  However, the outlook for southern areas is for a possible return of some slightly milder weather later in the month, so maybe in the south, at least, March may go out like a lamb.

HAPPY BEASTER - weather forecast warns "Beast from the East 3" may return with snow next week - and a "White Easter".  Maybe Father Christmas will come instead of the Easter Bunny.