There is so much to enjoy on a ski holiday and the winter sport is obviously top of the list but I love to take an afternoon to explore the hiking trails through the mountains when we go away. It is uphill at the start, steep and exhausting. I have to cross the ski slopes with confidence, trusting everyone will go around me if I keep at the same pace, and then I am above the nursery slopes where new learners are practising. I cross the park, walk through the trees, cross another slope and then things change.
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The further I walk, the more the silence strikes me. There is the swish of my legs as the salopettes move, the crunch of my boots in the snow and nothing else. As I walk I hear but when I stand still there is nothing, no humans, no animals, no wind, just silence. Everything is white, the mountains appear in front and around me, cliff edges, forests of trees and the odd marker to tell me I am on the right track. The path in front of me has been marked out and I can see the odd footprint from someone who has walked the same track this week. I love the silence, I sit and enjoy it, I breathe in the calm. I don't find this at home, my walks always take me along the seafront where the waves crash, the seagulls call and the wind blows through my hair. The air seems so still in this sheltered path through the mountain though. I can't bring myself to put my headphones in, the silence is too appealing, too novel.
I know when I get back the excitement will commence, the children will bubble around me desperate to ski/swim/sledge/snack and the chaos will continue as it always done so I make sure every year to walk the silent tracks, to climb higher into the mountains, to let my mind wander and to really be alone, just for a short time.
I bought a glass photo ball a long time ago which I have never used but I wanted to take some photos with it last week of the ski resort and I think with some of them you can see the silence and simplicity of being half way up a snowy mountain.
