The mountains couldn't understand why we'd ignore their calls. We'd always had a beautiful relationship. Life just isn’t the same as it once was. For months they would call, and we would hang up. We didn't have the heart to tell them the truth about the state of the world and why we couldn't make our regular pilgrimages. Who would believe such a story anyway? They may take us for liars, and we couldn't risk them never calling again. Would they forgot about us, and us of them? Our time apart was starting to push our psyche to the limits of insanity.
The closer we got to the holidays, the more we had to accept the idea we'd be spending the three-week break in the city. This option was not our first or even 50th choice for how we'd prefer to spend the vacation. It was the reality of the situation, and it hurt inside to think we'd be spending more time away from the mountains. Our happy place was not going to be able to support us through a global pandemic. We'd have to be patient and resist all urges towards losing our minds.
They called back! Our dreams had come true. First, the Pyrenees gave a howler, and then the Swiss Alps. With just a few days to spare, the mobility restrictions eased enough for us to leave the city, we didn't waste any time making plans for a quick exit before someone changes their mind. It was risky, but we needed risky; we needed anything but the city. There was still a good chance that regulations could instantly change, and our fantasy tour would be over. We did our research and secured the official paperwork needed to leave the municipality and make way for the mountains.
Findelbach Station- Matterhorn Railway
I was already anxious and sweating when we hit the road. It was hard to believe with all the uncertainty going on around us that we'd breeze on up the Baqueira without having to explain ourselves somewhere along the way. How are they enforcing these restrictions anyway? Did we have the right paperwork? It didn't seem like anyone in Spain was interested in our official paperwork. As the mountains of the Val Aran came into view, the relief was overwhelming, even emotional. The pull of the mountains had once again drawn us back into mother nature's playground for some soul searching.
The buzz in our apartment when we arrived in Baqueira was off the charts. We were giddy with excitement and shocked to be back in the mountains. The snow conditions didn't matter; the weather didn't matter, we were grateful for every snowflake on the ground we could ski on. We would do our best to take advantage of this precious time in nature and take nothing for granted.
Zmutt, CH 2021
Skiing would take on a different role this trip. We would have to rely on skiing to help support us through the sudden loss of a family member and the loss of a friend. Two beautiful people who helped raise some of the best humans we know. The sadness and grief of losing loved ones are never easy to cope with, especially during a worldwide pandemic. We were missing our families and friends immensely, wishing we could be together to help each other with these feelings of loss.
We woke up on Christmas to fresh snow and a boost of energy after a very emotional week. Today would be our last day in Baqueira before making the run to Switzerland. The blizzard conditions outside were a perfect setting for a white Christmas. As we silently rode the chair to the summit, we hardly noticed the wind blowing the chair wildly from side to side. We both needed that harsh weather to batten down the hatches and take the time to focus inside ourselves and realize how important our loved ones are to us. When we unloaded the chairlift, we finally realized the weather had turned foul. It was going to be a short day. The blizzard would quickly take its toll on our fingers and toes; the idea of enjoying the afternoon by the fire gave us a perfect excuse to seek shelter.
Eat it before it freezes.
Spain didn't seem to care about our paperwork, but strangely enough, the French did. The border of France is quite close to Baqueira, and upon our approach, the local Gandamiere wanted to clarify we had everything in order to reach Zermatt. We did have everything in order; the manilla envelope proved it. France was open with only a nightly curfew in place, so we wondered why the French cared about our leaving Spain. The officers glanced over our paperwork and quickly recognized the Spanish language. Spanish was not his native tongue. Did we need paperwork for France also? Before I could even explain that I had more paperwork if needed (Who has ever wanted more paperwork?), the officer returned the Spanish documents without any more discussion and allowed us to proceed. We exhaled and drove away.
Chamonix was a ghost town. We decided to stay in town for the night to break up the drive to Zermatt. What we found was a dismal ski town eager to welcome skiers. France was not allowing skiing anywhere at the time and still isn't as of the start of February. The memories of past trips ran wild as we walked into town to survey the scene and gather the proper pastries. Switzerland has many great attributes, but no one quite compares to France when it comes to baked goods.
Our drive from Chamonix was only a couple of hours of but one more border crossing would stand between us and snow skiing. We still don't know who stopped us at the border into Switzerland. All those border agents look the same, intimidating. Whoever it was, they were more upset that we had stopped than whether or not we had the right paperwork. With a quickly spoken denial of any goods to declare we were off. We had made it to Switzerland, no more paperwork, no more sweating, just skiing.
Tourist
Our cozy adobe was nestled above the town and situated perfectly for skiing to and from each day. Zermatt was quiet for the week after Christmas. We never waited in any liftlines and very rarely had to share a chair or gondola on the way up the hill. The snow was just fine for December, but the Alps were having a lean year, and it showed. It's just skiing. We crushed a few days of low-angle powder that would help raise our spirits and put a smile on our freezing faces.
We had forgotten how much the restaurants and bars on the hill were an integral part of the European skiing experience. Not only for the delicious food and drink but for providing refuge from the cold. With everything closed, we were on our own to survive the bitter mountain weather. Every day we added more layers of warmth until finally, our jacket zippers didn't zip. Our blood had not acclimatized to cold mountain weather. Managing as many powder runs as possible from the chairlift before we would have to nuke down to the gondola for a ride with warm tea and snacks. Strange times indeed, but we made the best of it all and savored every moment schussing under the Matterhorn.
We returned home with the hope of skiing again this winter, but the government promptly put the mobility restrictions back in place as soon as the holiday season was over. While we remain optimistic that we'll soon be able to ski in the Pyrennes, we have so much to be thankful for in our lives that if we don't get out there again this year......there's always next year. Love to you all!!!
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