Balancing Act
This week was spent in snow and ice - a vacation within a vacation, out amidst the beautiful mountains of the Czech Republic. There were a few bumps along the way, but we brought in the new year with a proper European winter.
It was a five and a half hour drive from Koblenz to Klinovec. We were split into two cars - Gritt and Georg in one; Alessandra, Leonie, Mateo and I in the other. The drive itself was rather uneventful - save for the nausea that accompanies any form of passenger travel for my fiancée’s side of the family - and in no time we had parked up at our little Airbnb on the broad, sloping hills and valleys of the Czech Republic come nightfall. The Airbnb itself is a cosy, creaky house, nestled in a crevice at the top of a winding path that zigzags its way up a steep slope. The owners have filled the interior with curiosities. Mounted antlers are woven through with creeper plants; shelves lined with fine china. Display cabinets mount the walls, stuffed thickly with antique coins, cameras and other collectibles. The effect is that it feels, in many ways, like the house of a grandparent you seldom visit - rather than the empty, cookie-cutter, modern Airbnbs that proliferate online. Outside, the view is of wheat-coloured grasses and little villages fading and merging into the blue haze of distant mountains; tall pines cutting dark green swathes across the landscape. It is a picturesque place, which Alessandra chose for its beauty, and proximity to the ski slopes of Klinovec.
Picturesque.
***
The following day, we took advantage of this proximity. The intention had been merely to prepare for a week of skiing: we would hire the necessary gear by late-morning and arrange ski passes, then pass the remainder of the day exploring the nearby village with, perhaps, some sledding on some of the more accommodating hills. In hiring skis and boards, however, we learned that the day of hire counted as a full day, and so we returned to the house and prepared for the slopes.
It was only the second time I had ever been on a snowboard. Skis I could handle, having learned the ins and outs on a trip to the Blue Mountains as a child - but snowboarding? Well, I could slide down well enough - that wasn’t the issue. It was braking I’d never quite managed to get the hang of. Whenever I began to feel I was going too fast, my strategy had been to fling myself recklessly to the side, helicoptering my board to a sudden and painful stop. This time, however, I was determined to learn. I practiced on the slight incline near the entrance, populated by little children and fresh-faced adults, whilst Alessandra - already competent on her skis - helped Leonie. At first, it wouldn’t work - I just couldn’t get my body to swing itself to face the downhill slope, bending my knees and leaning back like a cowboy in a Spaghetti Western. It felt antithetical to my body’s survival drive. Slowly, however, I did it, and after five or ten tries, I was sliding down in gentle s-curves, slowing myself first by facing forward, then back. I had got the basics down - now it was time for a real slope.
No hands! One leg!
We stood in the crowd of a line that formed, haphazardly, at the base of the ski lifts, clattering against other skiers as we half-slid our way to the front. A bench rushed up to meet us and we were carried across in the calm of the lift, through the pines to the top; not a sound about us, save for the carving and hissing of skis and boards against powder and packed snow that drifted up from below. It was steeper than I had thought, standing there at the top, looking down at the stretch of blank, white snow ahead. I fastened my board and, with a little hesitation, got going. Alessandra sped gracefully by on her skis as I focused on trying to go slow, cutting diagonally down the incline, working hard to keep my board perpendicular to the slope, leaning back - but my speed just kept increasing. I fell many, many times on that first run down the mountain, and my muscles ached from the full-body experience of trying to get up again and again. At the same time, I was managing longer stretches of slope at speed, and began to feel out the slight shifts from heel to toe that allowed for sharper or softer turns - started to feel more comfortable twisting my hips to change direction, or shifting my weight to lean back more gradually. Those stretches, where there was nothing outside of the hiss of board against snow and the precarious balance between relaxation and tension - those stretches were magical. But then I would lean too far, or tilt wrong into a corner, and down I would come with a crash once more. Still, progress is progress, and the end of the day saw me carving down the slope with a new confidence.
The long way up.
***
This confidence was sorely tested on Day Two. It was the first run down the slope, and Alessandra had the camera out to record from the top of the hill. I began in a manner that picked up from where I left off the day before - fast, but controlled. Unfortunately, there’s a drop in muscle memory when you return to something a day later, and my body was not ready for what my brain assured me I could do. I fell down, got up quickly and dropped back into the down-facing position once more. Then I fell again - hard. I felt a sharp pain in my coccyx that shot up my spine, causing it to arch and lock as I hit the ground. A similar pain shot up my right wrist, which jarred against my hand as it hit the ground, palm-down, to try to soften the landing. I was tightly wrapped in the pain for a good few minutes, and Alessandra had swept up beside me as I waited for it to subside. My legs were wobbly when I clambered to my feet, and there was a sharp throbbing in my wrist as I tried to make my way tentatively down the rest of the slope. I fell several more times in the process, knocking my wrist or falling awkwardly and painfully in a vain attempt to avoid repeated injury.
Sixty seconds to pain.
I had a long break after that, nursing my swollen wrist as the others went down again. As the pain subsided, I tried a few more runs over the rest of the afternoon, but each time left me more beaten up than the last. At one point, I slipped on black ice and cracked my knee against the road whilst walking to the rental place to extend my hire, and that was almost as bad as the initial fall - though the pain passed more quickly. On the last run of the day, I smacked the back of my head on the ground no less than three successive times on my way down, leaving me with a headache as we staggered back to the car. I was done. Exhausted, I wanted nothing more than to follow an animal instinct, curl up alone in a dark corner somewhere, and lick my wounds.
***
Day Three on Klinovec, and I was faced with a difficult choice: stay home; try to get back on the board (with a helmet, this time) and take it slow; or swap the board for skis. I took stock: my body hurt in a hundred different places. My wrist was still painful and swollen, and my coccyx would not tolerate another fall. The fear of further injury was too much of a barrier to allow me to practice effectively, and I could barely get up from a fall without using both hands. In the end, I opted for the skis, promising myself that, if I were healed up before the end of the trip, I would return to the snowboard. It was still rickety and painful - I couldn’t grip one of the sticks, and my coccyx creaked ominously and uncomfortably when I squatted back - but it was manageable. Alessandra picked up speed and worked on harder maneuvers as I tested my limits for the day. Three runs were enough for me, before I left Alessandra and Gritt to enjoy a few runs alone, heading home early with Mateo and Leonie.
Ready enough!
***
Day Four: My wrist pain was less global, more localised. I was better able to hold the ski sticks, and got my ski legs back again after a few more runs, building up better speed and more dynamic balance. Still, I took breaks when my body complained too loudly. We left in the early afternoon, and took the remainder of the day to visit a thermal pool. Unfortunately, Google pulled a fast one on us, directing us to what turned out to be a regular indoor pool, with only the mildest of heating in all but a couple of small sections. Still, we swam, letting the heated pools relax our aching muscles, and we all came out much revived.
***
The fifth day did not quite go as planned. We had packed up the car nice and early and found parking without a hitch, but a wet, snowy rain began as we arrived, and gave no indication of letting up. The idea of being soaked through in the cold and the wind did not appeal to many of our group, and so we headed back home for a quiet day, agreeing to come later and try a night ski for the first time. That evening, Leonie, Alessandra and I tackled the slopes under the glare of floodlights which illuminated the slope against the inky blackness of a clouded sky. There was a silence and peace to be found on the slopes at night - a stillness in the air that was little disturbed as we went down, with so few others to worry about. Our journeys downhill were filled almost entirely with the rush of the passing wind and the crisp ice that cracked softly underfoot at our passing.
***
In the blink of an eye, it was New Year’s Eve, and we had returned our skis after a final day on the mountain. Alessandra and I had managed half a red slope together, merging onto the track at the very edge of a steep incline that seemed to be an initiation of sorts - which we passed, barely. Alessandra finished off her run with a full red slope, and we headed back contented. The beginning of the evening saw us out to dinner, before we returned to fill the night with a range of family traditions. Firecrackers were set off on the street outside the house; zinc was melted and poured into water to tell our fortunes for the year ahead; Dinner for One was watched on Youtube (a short, English film which somehow became a New Year’s tradition for all Germany); and twelve grapes were eaten in the final thirty seconds of the year. Then, without warning, the new year was ushered in, and fireworks heralded the beginning of 2024 with mighty booms that sounded across the valley, lighting up the towns spread out upon it. Happy New Year, to all of you - may you live the year ahead with intention and courage.
***
This week has been a great teacher - if it is to be believed that pain is indeed the greatest teacher there is. The lessons of the week?
Take time learning new skills. Blend courage with prudence - or else.
There is something to doing a day activity at night that transforms it into a different experience entirely.
The symbolic moments we share with others are few and far between - make the most of them.
