To Ski or Not to Ski By Demac

I am not an experienced skier having only rolled down the slopes once before at Queenstown in New Zealand. Rolled being the operative word, I can remember picking myself up twenty-six times on one run at a beginner's course so you can imagine my trepidation on how I would survive the slopes again.

My partner, son and girlfriend checked into the Karelia Lodge which you would swear was situated somewhere in the Austrian Alps. The chalet was completely decked out in the Tryanise style down to the Cuckoo clock in the bedroom among with the magic of an open fireplace. The host, Jerry Brazda has done a remarkable job capturing the atmosphere and we were made to feel right at home; he even arranged the ski hire gear for us amateurs. We were keen as mustard to try our hand so no time was waisted donning the gear.

It was a knew experience for me to walk out the front door onto the snow, people gliding past and children building snowmen; I was in heaven. Then I had to strap on those boots that made me feel like I was straight out of Star Wars. Hunched over as if I had a back problem it was time to click on those slippery things called skis; all is well as I am standing.

The road outside Karelia was covered with soft snow and with a light snow falling I took the task at hand and to my amazement I remembered all those things I managed to achieve last time. How to slow down, pick myself up and even stop. After a few trial runs I even managed to make some turns - bring on the black runs, I said to myself.

The chair lift up to the beginner's course made me wish...

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