'Our magic hut': a fairytale ski hut in the Austrian Alps
The night was as dark as the bottom of a well when I opened the old wooden door, releasing a whirlwind of ghost-like steam into the air shimmering with frost. Pulling my wet feet into my snow boots, I stepped out and walked naked on the fresh, crunchy snow under a full moon.
Silhouettes of fir trees and pines towered all around, a silent forest in the bluish mountainsides. I reached out into the moonlight like some kind of pagan worshipper, feeling the icy sting of the air working its invigorating magic.
It wasn't a moon bath ritual in a fancy new forest spa, but my own no-frills version - stepping out after a shower for homemade cold therapy - the kind of liberating activity you can indulge in when you stays in an isolated refuge.
En reality, it was not so isolated, even if it had this sensation, for a little further the mountains to the north were the ski slopes a kind of Kitzbühel, nicknamed the "Aspen of the Alps" for its pomp.
Although I have felt the pull of its legendary slopes, champagne bars, five star service and even après ski was not what I wanted. When I snowboard these days, I want to explore the mountains like a hiker would in the summer, traversing them, into their recesses and "connecting with nature", leaving the crowded slopes behind. Some of my best experiences have been riding through the forest, fast in the powder between the trees, but also taking the time to take a break, sit on a rock, smell the smells of pine and listen to the slow drip of meltwater in a snow-choked landscape.
The night was as dark as the bottom of a well when I opened the old wooden door, releasing a whirlwind of ghost-like steam into the air shimmering with frost. Pulling my wet feet into my snow boots, I stepped out and walked naked on the fresh, crunchy snow under a full moon.
Silhouettes of fir trees and pines towered all around, a silent forest in the bluish mountainsides. I reached out into the moonlight like some kind of pagan worshipper, feeling the icy sting of the air working its invigorating magic.
It wasn't a moon bath ritual in a fancy new forest spa, but my own no-frills version - stepping out after a shower for homemade cold therapy - the kind of liberating activity you can indulge in when you stays in an isolated refuge.
En reality, it was not so isolated, even if it had this sensation, for a little further the mountains to the north were the ski slopes a kind of Kitzbühel, nicknamed the "Aspen of the Alps" for its pomp.
Although I have felt the pull of its legendary slopes, champagne bars, five star service and even après ski was not what I wanted. When I snowboard these days, I want to explore the mountains like a hiker would in the summer, traversing them, into their recesses and "connecting with nature", leaving the crowded slopes behind. Some of my best experiences have been riding through the forest, fast in the powder between the trees, but also taking the time to take a break, sit on a rock, smell the smells of pine and listen to the slow drip of meltwater in a snow-choked landscape.
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