Skiing in the Dolomites - Next Stop, Olympics?

---

---

Despite a decided lack of sleep (only two hours - thank you jet lag!), I was ready to go and determined to ski when I got up this morning. We had a lovely, quiet breakfast at La Bercia, and then rushed around assembling and donning our required gear. First stop - La Ski Point for some rentals. Uh oh, now I was committed.

To be our ski "instructor," we had roped in La Bercia's owner's son for the day. Although not a true instructor, he was willing to help us and try to teach us to ski. He helped us to find the right ski boots, which I quickly learned restrained you from standing up straight (and left some delightful bruises). However, I managed to master the boots after a few minutes, and soon, I was strutting around like a ski pro, with my snow pants, ski jacket, gloves and borrowed goggles from one of our group. Maybe I can't ski, but I sure looked the part!! They fitted me for skis and I began to get nervous - what was I getting into? But I was confident in the fact that everyone knew I was a beginner, never even having tried skis on before, so they couldn't push me too hard - right?!?

So off we went, packing up the cars and heading to the slopes. Next stop, ski passes. We bought a two day pass (which I thought rather optimistic, at least for me) and took escalators up to the gondolas. I thought to myself that I may never fear another escalator again - even though I’ve lost a lot of that fear thanks to getting on and off of them at airports with varying amounts of luggage, there’s just something about going up and down an escalator wearing ski boots and carrying poles and skis that gives you more confidence.

As we disembarked from the escalators, I was initially relieved to see this little hilly area that appeared designated for ski bunnies like me. Oh good, I thought, it's not too much - I can do this. But, oh no. We were destined for the gondolas.

Looking at the map earlier, I determined that the bunny slope must be fairly low to the town, so I wasn’t worried as we approached the gondolas. We climbed into the gondola, and it was surprisingly not scary as we rode up. But all the air in my lungs left me as we continued to go higher. And higher. And higher. "No way I can make it down," was my first thought, not because of the heights, but because of the length I would have to ski. But I was ready to give it a try. We hopped off the gondolas (I was just pumped not to be in a chair lift and have to leap out of it gracefully) and headed outside. A group of kindergarteners with their tiny skis and little helmets were readying for a run down the mountain. And I’m not kidding, this was NO bunny slope - I couldn’t believe that this run was designed for beginners! But I thought maybe my fear was getting the better of me, and was willing to give it a try. And it was really beautiful up there - crisp, clean air, blue skies, warm sun (a little too warm in all the ski gear we were wearing), and beautiful mountain views. Too bad I was there to ski!

First, I tried to put on my skis, without falling and injuring myself. It took me a couple of tries, but I finally got it. Then, I realized that I was in a rather unstable position - skis are awkward (as I’m sure everyone knows, since it seems that my dad and I are the last two people on earth to learn to ski). So it was tough to try to stand up without sliding away - and with a precipice guarded by only a railing near the gondolas fifty feet away, that was a little bit nerve wracking.

Our very sweet instructor was very patient and always praising us (though I certainly wasn’t deserving of any of it). He showed me how to climb up the little bit of hill we were on sideways, by digging in the blade of my skis towards the mountain. That was probably my most successful move of the day (besides later deciding to stop skiing). He then explained how to "brake" by placing my skis in a snowplow type position. Yeah, so I wasn’t so successful at this part because I kept putting one ski on top of the other and not angling them enough to stop. I managed to fall over and found out the hard way that while the falling down didn’t hurt so much, it was next to impossible to get up. I tried for a few moments, frustrated, and finally our instructor (who was about twenty pounds lighter than me), had to grab me under the arms and drag me up to standing. Twice.

Over and over, we would trudge sideways up this little hill and slide down. Our instructor explained how to turn, and while I understood him intellectually, it was a little difficult to actually do it. Eventually, his confidence in us overwhelmed him (or he was tired of working with us on this little part of the mountain), and he suggested we were ready to head down. I really didn’t think I could make it, but I was trying to stay positive, so I just kept telling myself that I could. I mentally pulled myself up by the bootstraps and headed to the “bunny slope,” where I got a full view of how far up we were - far enough that you couldn’t see the bottom. It was terrifying, but I didn’t think I could get down any other way, and I didn’t want to disappoint our instructor. Fear was what really kept me from managing more than short runs (really short runs), I think, because I was worried about getting up too much speed and not being able to stop myself or running into someone or something. We started down, and I was immediately ahead of my dad and our instructor, sliding faster and faster. I heard our instructor yell something, and turned slightly to see that my dad had fallen. As I tried to stop using the snowplow method, I too fell right down. This time, I’d figured out how to get up, although I think I did more damage to my muscles and joints getting up than I did falling!

That was the last straw, so we decided enough was enough and shed our skis to hike a few short feet back to the gondolas to ride one down. Our instructor made us promise not to tell anyone he knew that he'd ridden down in the gondola with us, instead of skiing down!

But despite this first crazy experience, I think I might try skiing again when I head to Lake Placid in March - but first, I want to know what they see as a “bunny” hill and I really think I should arrange for a proper instructor, preferably a big beefy one who can help haul me up when I fall flat on my back!

The gondola ride down was actually very pretty, and I was glad to see that I wasn’t really afraid to be up there - mostly just grateful that I didn’t have to ski all the way down, and a little bit disappointed that I wasn’t able to. When we reached the bottom, our instructor said that the most important thing for a new skier to learn is the "apres ski" drink at the bar. So that's where we headed. I enjoyed a lovely coke at the outside bar, listening to lots of American music, soaking in the scenery and the gorgeous weather, and listening to our instructor tell us about living in San Vigilio, helping his mom with La Bercia, and learning that Croatians bring their own ski instructors when they vacation there.

I finally got my very first slice of real Italian pizza at the restaurant, which was delicious. We weren't able to meet up with our more advanced ski buddies, so we headed back to La Bercia to warm up, rest our weary muscles and regroup before touring the town. Earlier this week, there had been a snow sculpture contest in San Vigilio, and the entrants had huge sculptures in the center of the town which I was hoping to see up close and personally. So after a hot shower to ease the tension in my body and find all the sore places, we drove into town and walked around. It was so quiet and peaceful there, without too many people or cars, and it was lovely to see the quaint little town, flanked by mountains. We walked around a little bit, picked up some wine for dinner, and then decided on a quick snack at a local café. I ordered a hot chocolate and a strawberry cream pastry, which was delicious. As luck would have it, we met up with the serious skiers in the parking lot on our way out, and made our way back to La Bercia.

We lazed away the afternoon in the living area of La Bercia, enjoying each other’s company, catching up, and laughing. Joanna, La Bercia's owner, had offered to prepare us dinner for the evening, and it was nice to be able to relax and not go out. We were treated to homemade minestrone soup, followed by polenta with a local beef, and topped off by homemade apfelstrudel, which was delightful. It was a long, relaxed meal, full of jokes and laughter and made for a very pleasant evening.

So tomorrow, I return my skis, and pack in my ski career, at least for this trip. I think instead, we are going to enjoy the local sites, and even go to the top of the Plan de Corones - after skiing today, I think I feel brave enough to do it!!

---