Chapter Fifteen
Fifteen
‘Everyone onto the minibus, please,’ Henrik shouted. ‘And put your seatbelts on. One, two, plus three of you, is five. Six, seven…’
I didn’t like to interrupt while he was counting. Everyone was going skiing except Ethel – which was fair enough with her leg – and when he got to eleven, he jumped behind the wheel and gave us a thumbs up. Like a dad taking us all on a road trip.
‘Morning!’ I was sat next to the Japanese couple. ‘Sara,’ I said, pointing to myself.
‘Good morning. My name is Kimi,’ the lady replied. ‘And this is my husband, Yuto.’
‘Nice to meet you.’ They had a machine that translated my words into Japanese, and Yuto grinned and waved. What witchcraft was this that they were operating tech on the move?
‘Is that 5G?’ I asked.
Kimi shook her head. ‘No internet needed. It downloads the languages then translates sounds offline. It is very clever.’
‘Wow!’ I said as they watched it, and they both nodded. ‘Do you ski in Japan?’
Yuto spoke slowly. ‘Yes. Plenty skiing on Mount Fuji.’
They were on a round-the-world trip, celebrating their retirement. Although they didn’t seem old enough – they were in such great shape. I’d overheard Jonas saying how excellent they’d been in the rock-climbing session. Bending themselves around the tricky bits to find the best grip.
‘Henrik, will we be able to see the glacier from the mountain?’ I called.
‘Yep, you’ll see everything. There’s a three-sixty view from the top all the way out to Folgefonna. Hope you’ve all brought your cameras.’
Camera and phone in one. There was bound to be signal up there, as we’d be closer to the satellites. That was how it worked, right? I might even be able to make a call.
The minibus lumped along the road, weaving and sliding to avoid the ice.
Henrik was like a go-slow racing driver, doing his best to keep it smooth as he drove towards the mountain.
I pulled out my phone and by some miracle I had two bars!
Actual signal connecting me to the real world.
I scanned through my apps and could see Mark had sent me another message.
He was such a contradiction. He either didn’t want to talk to me at all, or he was on my case every other day.
I toyed with leaving him unread for about thirty seconds, but I couldn’t help myself.
He’d screen-grabbed the Firefly homepage where Tore, Jonas and Henrik stood side by side, arms-folded in front of the farmhouse.
Mark: Is this where you’re staying?
Me: You know it is – I sent you a pin. Checking up on me?
Mark: Any good?
Me: Gorgeous. On my way to ski the glacier. Worth checking out for sure.
Mark: You always choose the best places to go on holiday.
Me: Yep, I’d highly recommend, but it’s fully booked till Jan – I got lucky with a cancellation.
He didn’t need to know the whole truth. An eco-resort was Mark’s idea of hell. And that would be without the vegan, no-alcohol situation. Mark liked all round luxury when he went away – ideally with a butler on call.
After a bumpy half hour, Henrik pulled over and the minibus lurched to a stop.
‘OK, guys, this is it. The ski hut is over there to the right. Those who have been before, get your gear on while I park. Those of you who haven’t, ask those who have. I’ll be back in ten.’
We staggered off the bus, slow and dozy, like a coach trip tipping pensioners out onto Blackpool promenade.
Phil Collins had lulled us into semi-sleep, and it was a shock to be back out in the cold.
The ski hut was hot and a musty smell lingered in the air.
It was a wooden shed with a closed hatch at the front and just enough room for us all to cram in.
The kit was a jumble of skiwear from the nineties with sweaty-smelling boots.
I looked around, panicked, to see if everyone else was thinking the same as me, but it seemed they were not.
Kimi and Yuto had already stepped into matching onesies, red with white stripes. Which was kind of cute as an old married couple. Until I realised that all the ski outfits were the same.
No. Absolutely not. I would not be seen dead in one of those. There must be something else to wear. Celeste was next to me, wrestling hers on.
‘Psst. Girl to girl. Are there any other options?’ I didn’t want to be difficult, but I couldn’t wear a giant Babygro. It would ruin the experience. Thank God Ethel wasn’t here to witness me flapping about.
Celeste shook her head. ‘’Fraid not, sister. It’s these or nothing. They’re not sexy, but neither is frostbite.’
‘No one will see you,’ Will butted in. ‘There was literally no one on the slope last time. The aim of the game is to keep warm.’
I was torn between sunny ski time on an empty mountain and wearing a ski suit that gave me the ick. Henrik wasn’t back yet and everyone else was ready and raring to go.
‘You are coming?’ Kimi asked, sweetly.
‘Henrik won’t leave till we’re all ready,’ Will said a little too loudly, and ten pairs of eyes turned to stare at me, piling on the peer pressure.
‘Yes, yes, of course. Sorry, I’ll be quick.’
What else could I do, other than wait on my own while everyone else had a great time?
I kicked off my Uggs, chose the least depressing pair of ski boots and took a onesie from the pile.
No one cares, Sara, just get on with it.
Fine. I gave the ski suit a final once-over, then slid it on over my thermals and zipped it up.
It was like wrapping insulation around every part of my body: thick, cosy, full of feathers, and deliciously warm.
Then the ski boots snapped on nice and snug and felt sturdy and comfortable.
I bounced around the hut like an astronaut, and it felt amazing.
Like one-wear fancy-dress. I knew I looked as ridiculous as the others, but I couldn’t see myself, so I didn’t really know.
I’d just have to focus on how I felt inside instead.
Henrik bounded in already suited and booted. ‘Hei, OK!’ he said, looking around. ‘You all found what you need? The skis are at the bottom of the piste to save us carrying them, so if everyone is ready, we can go!’
We shuffled outside, boinging from foot to foot on the wooden floor. Henrik waited at the back to lock the door, then led the way to the locker to dish out the skis and poles.
The mountain was covered in fresh powder and looked beautiful in the sunshine.
Perfect ski conditions, but I couldn’t see the lift.
I was starting to worry it might be a button.
The mountain was quite remote after all.
The piste hadn’t been bashed, but the red flags were visible, so it would be just the right level of challenge for me to fly down.
Henrik clapped his hands together. ‘Please check your skis have fresh Velcro on the bottom and remember to strip it off before you ski down.’
‘What for?’ I asked, turning my skis over. There was a black sticker running straight down the middle. Weird.
‘Too much friction otherwise. You won’t get a speedy, smooth ski.’
‘Right.’ I wasn’t sure what he meant, but everyone was clicking on their skis, so I followed suit. We must have to ski to the lift, which would be a nice practice run as I hadn’t done any for a while.
‘Everyone ready?’ Henrik called, and we all clanked our poles together, like performing seals. ‘Good. Now, remember, don’t waste your energy talking. We can do this together, right? Let’s go!’
We formed a natural queue behind Henrik and followed him step for step, the twelve of us moving as one. Left, right, left, right… I had my head down, towards the back of the line, so it took me a second to realise the gradient had changed and we’d started walking up the piste.
‘Will?’ I shouted. ‘Can you hear me?’
‘Yes,’ he replied, marching on like a compliant Orc.
‘Where’s the ski lift?’
‘There isn’t one.’
‘What?’ I took another look at the unkempt piste. ‘Sorry, what are we doing here?’
‘Alpine touring,’ Will said. ‘The Norwegian way.’
‘It’s skiing though, right?’ I gasped, trying to breathe.
‘Yes! Once we get to the top,’ Will replied as it finally dawned on me what was happening. We were walking up the bastard piste and I was already too high up to break away and ski down. The Velcro comment suddenly made sense. Norwegian skiing.
‘Keep going!’ Henrik shouted from the front, as I dug in with my trekking sticks. ‘Heads down, focus on your breathing, stay mindful.’
My mind was full of something alright, and about to shut down entirely.
I couldn’t feel my legs, and the mountain looked like Everest as it stretched up above us.
No wonder the piste had been empty when they’d come last time: Alpine touring was only meant to be for those who were fit or determined enough to drag themselves up it in the first place.
I huffed and puffed my way along, using my outrage as fuel.
Each little step was getting me closer to the top and there was nothing anyone could do to help the situation.
It was my choice: either keep going or give up.
And I was desperate for the skiing-down part.
The cosy warmth of the onesie was a lot less attractive now, and there was a layer of sweat between my body and the material, making it even hotter, if that was even possible.
I considered taking it off and climbing up in my thermals.
If I threw it into the middle of the piste, I could pick it up on the way down.
‘Let’s hold it here!’ Henrik called, and everyone stopped, collapsing on the ground to regroup and rehydrate. There was no point complaining now – we were all in it together.
‘You know what?’ Celeste panted, leaning back on her elbows. ‘There’s nowhere else on earth I’d rather be right now.’
‘Agreed,’ Will said, putting his arm around her.
‘I could sit here all day,’ I said, turning my face towards the sun. It was absolute bliss now we’d stopped. I was just missing a deckchair and a cold, Norwegian lager.