and crisp. Neither Cherry nor chocolate. Is that snow that has succumbed to the sun in its surface layer and that she's back hard during the night. A thin crust, such as the Kremlin Algida. The 20 cm of filling, however, are light, there is no fund, at least here at 800 meters above sea level.
The steps are slow, as you remember it on every boot. It takes a while 'to warm up, to catch the rhythm and tune into the mountain. The crust beneath the roaring blades of the paddle as breathing becomes regular. It's inevitable not to think in certain situations.
I think the other day, for a start to the season on the slopes. The fear experienced in crossing a tunnel between "pins" crazy, I think the tragedies reviewed by the national news, the deaths and injuries on the slopes
.
I reflect, broods on the advice of a ski issued over the air: reduce speed, wear a helmet for children under 14 and do not enjoy the backcountry.
Yet I felt more in danger yesterday, on the slopes. When I was the target of a snowboarder jubilant. That's where I received an urgent state of anxiety. Here there's only sister moon, brother sun, silence and calm to accompany my ascension.
not practice off-piste ... already - still think - said to be a ski instructor sounds a bit 'as the call of the pastor who would not want his sheep would end up out of 'fold.
But yes, stay inside, here you are safe. A little 'strettini but safe. You do not know what awaits you out. And then we crushed the snow like a plan to pool just to make you go faster. We do get many, will we press! And we offer to entertain km of tracks!
of pistes against meters in altitude, maybe it's the thing here - I think while I wipe my mouth after drinking - how can you not tell the difference? Long
km served by ropes against a few sweaty feet, breathing heavily against the chair, the leg strength against the carousel of hamsters. There is no competition, and maybe it's better that way. This
think it wears me out, I would not think or think about anything else. Yet I would urge the ski instructor to review his claim, pointing out that there are fellow mountain guides, and that the off-piste should be made. By policy, the times and in right ways, but certainly should not be banned!
Maybe - I wonder - is the concept of mountain itself has been misunderstood: When alarming popular force seems that the mountain will end with the poles of the slopes, what is outside, what you can not buy
is not the mountain. So what is outside, and therefore more of a backcountry demonized?
Fortunately, I arrived at 2000 meters, the snow Crocco addition, the mantle is able to silence the noise of the city, I can even hear my bottle that sounds, I listen to oriental tones resulting from the slight breeze that caresses the mouth. I smile.
I look to the valley, 1200 meters in altitude. If we want to ... a mile and two in the mountains, the real one.
to ride freely, no worries now. But it is clear: it is not a piste, because here ... there are no tracks.