A final mountain fling

Our brave and gracious friends, Andrew, Marina and their 6 year old son, Leonardo, invited us to join them at their family's mountain house for our final weekend in Italy. Situated in the region of Monta Rosa, Valsesia is a valley which runs off its flanks and contains the small mountain village of Scopello. Marina's parents sensibly invested in a 'mountain apartment' 30 odd years ago – a tiny, one bedroom (and mezzanine) apartment in spitting distance of one field and driving distance of a huge number of others.

Rory thinks there should be a market for mountain (holiday) apartments in New Zealand. You don't have all the maintenance issues of a house, no garden to tend and only as big as you need for a weekend or so. A great base for a quick getaway without summers of painting and lawn mowing!

We arrived on friday afternoon with the temperature plummeting, just in time for the snow to start to fall. The ski fields were opening for the first day of the season on the following day. After a lovely dinner at the apartment, we headed off to bed to get a good sleep for the big next day.

As the noise of Silas' snorting and coughing worsened, we realised he was probably suffering from some sort of allergy (he has dust mite allergy) and transferred him onto the floor of the living room (away from bedding other than a thermarest), which made for an early turn in for the adults but a poor sleep for Silas, overwhelmed with his allergic reaction.

Saturday dawned mostly clear and sunny and we headed up to a nearby ski field where it became clear that the winds were too high to head up for the time being (a series of two gondolas take you over a pass to a height of 3000m!!). We changed plans and Rory headed off with Andrew and the kids to a smaller, lower field, leaving Marina and I to go and ski for the day. The gondola was still on hold so we headed off for a hot chocolate to wait it out. At this stage, I know that most of my friends back home will be thinking – wow, a day off, how amazing, no kids?!, you are so lucky. Marina exclaimed, we are free!! I withheld comment, waiting to see evidence of the miracle before celebrating! The gondola opened but only for one of the ski runs (due to high winds) and Marina deemed it not a worthwhile option to pay to ski on the crowded field with only one slope to ski on. I came within metres of a day on the slopes (the second in 4 years) without children – but it was not to be.

The village of Alagna

At this point, I do want to point out to any concerned or angry readers, that I do not wish my children away. I had my years of skiing and tramping and adventuring (my 20's were stuffed full of it) and this is the season we are now in!

We headed back to join the boys. Rory, it turns out was having a bit of a mare. He couldn't ski with both the boys since Gwilym was too young to ride the pommer by himself and was not allowed to ride with Rory (the baby slopes were inconveniently only for small kids who were paying clients in the ski school so were out of bounds for us). This meant that they were all stuck at the bottom of the small (essentially one short run) field with few options for skiing. I was quickly enlisted as babysitter for Gwilym and the reason I have never skiied as an adult (I telemark ski and snowboard) was quickly coming back to me. My wonderfully 'strong' and significant ankles/calves (that I will not, at this point, spew any hatred at) and the shape and fit of a ski boot do not mix. Gradually my ankles and lower legs swell leaving me in what begins as discomfort and ends, as I remember, in excruciating pain. I eventually got one short run in – turned about 15 turns before tagging back in on kids. Rory valiantly carried Gwilym up and down the lower slopes on skiis, on his shoulders, giving Gwilym the chance of a 2 second straight line to the bottom.

The kids managed some fun and we enjoyed watching them, even more so when I had changed back into walking boots.

We headed back into the beautiful village of Alagna for the late afternoon – enjoying the Christmas stalls, music and finally a glass of wine at a bar. Marina and Leonardo had headed down to get clean and dry and we arrived back, dirty and tired an hour or two later.

That night, Silas repeated his allergic response which worsened to asthma. We found ourselves dosing him up with ventolin at midnight and measuring his blood oxygen level. It was a bit average (his oxygen saturation) and I went back up to sleep on the mezzanine while Rory slept beside him in the living area. It may be tiredness, mental illness, chronic anxiety or a wonderful mix of all three, but I found myself crying myself to sleep after a significant panic attack. I suddenly relived our experience on the plane over (see the first blog entry), where I had packed only one empty ventolin inhaler, and I sat up sweating, heart racing, imagining his worsening asthma and the logistics of calling an ambulance to a mountain apartment and watching Silas struggling for oxygen. I calmed myself by looking at the stars out of the sky light and praying a prayer over and over again until my heart slowed and I was able to sleep.

The next day was even more beautiful. After failing to keep up with Marina and Andrew's racing start, a tired and tearful Jane and family, made our way at Gwilym's pace (in ski boots...think snail) to the bottom of the chair lift across the road. I had long since given up on the idea of skiing and wore my tramping boots, prepared for a day on the baby slopes and enjoying the kids. My time will come again! We found the magic carpet and Silas had a great morning with Rory, mastering turns and gaining confidence again (in time for a 7 month wait til next season!!).

I looked after Gwilym who decided to include his once-a-day, half hour, wailing, screaming period during this time. When he wails, he doesn't appear to be able to talk, doesn't want to be carried/cuddled, can't walk and has to essentially be left where he is, until he regains control of his emotions. Rory and I are beginning to wonder if he has some sort of blood sugar issue, because when he has food again, things seem to come right pretty quickly. We look forward to getting advice from all our parenting expert friends when we return home because he certainly has us stumped. We presume it is his, very determined version of a tantrum since it usually follows not getting his own way (and increases exponentially with tiredness).

Silas, in Shade, heads to the slopes in the morning

Rory and Silas at bottom of magic carpet

After the crying stopped he managed some skiing – quickly getting the hang of turns (more parallel than snow plough) with Mum running down the slope behind him in her tramping boots. No prizes for style but at least we enjoyed some smiles and success and it made the day worthwhile.

Of course, we were surrounded by all the picture postcard scenery you can imagine. Snow capped mountain houses and restaurants, magnificent peaks, endless terrain. And tramping boots. It will still be there in 15 years time and if I still can– I'll give it a caning on my telemark skiis.

Since we had only bought a half day pass (Andrew, Marina and Leonardo had a long drive home), we headed down at 12.30pm and out to lunch after a rapid grab and pack. Then we joined the queue of weekend traffic home to a freezing Milan where the snow is still sitting on the ground from the weekend snow fall as well.