Le tren de ski

As evidence of the civility that comes with train travel I give you London to Schladming via Vienna:


1. Leave London on Eurostar early afternoon (unsurprisingly, generally the most expensive part of any European rail journey given the current British relationship with privatisation) to arrive in Paris for a leisurely early dinner. The city has conveniently arranged clusters of regional cuisine to match the train network hubs. So, Gare de l'Est means massive plates of proper things Lorraine, including sauerkraut and every edible part of a pig.





2. Catch the 19.06 Deutsche Bahn ICE to Frankfurt Flughafen with just one change at Mannheim in the middle: enjoy your comfortable, roomy seats, wifi that actually works and coffee that comes to your table.







3. Transfer to the joy of my life: the 23.54 OBB Night Jet to Vienna. OBB have hoovered up several of the night routes shortsightedly abandoned by DB in hindsight, as there appears a resurgent campaign across Europe to reinstate the night trains. €79 includes water, fresh linen, two excitable German travelling companions and the privilege of rocking to sleep as the train crosses the Alps (even cheaper if you can handle a six person berth but the luxury single occupancy is also there if you want it).










4. Wake up in Vienna at 08.27 (or a few minutes thereafter) having had fresh rolls and tea brought to your bunk as part of your €79.






5. Spend four hours in Vienna, embarrassing your Viennese friends by doing things like going to the Spanish riding school to see the Lippizaners because you've wanted to do that since you were a horse-mad kid; and eating in Cafe Central because Freud and Trotsky (and Hitler, which they don't mention in the publicity), and all the other tourists in Vienna did.

6. Jump on the 14.25 to Schladming with one quick change across the platform at Leoben. Most of OBB's trains plough through the Alps so there are spectacular views and big windows through which to see it.

And then, one stop before Schladming, with some of the worst blizzards the country had seen in decades, the local trains ground to a halt. But please note, British Rail Providers, it is when we have seen several metres of snow in such a short space of time that your snow ploughs can't keep the regional tracks clear, then, and only then, can you cancel a train and bring in the buses.

However, in fairness I have to confess that the return journey was less civilised, involving the continuation of the rail replacement bus service after a week of blizzards, now significantly overcrowded as they had to get not only increasing numbers of passengers in but our suitcases, skis and ski boots as well, followed by having to change buses 30 miles before Salzburg, then getting on a local train that was all stops, leading to the missing of subsequent connections back to London and the final resort of a flight home. We're still fighting with OBB, Trainline and God over who has responsibility.

Defying English weather ....

Curse you, English weather! My challenge event today was cancelled due to the persistent snow and high winds in Kent. Unfortunately, having spent all of yesterday eating bread, rice and cake, the amount of glucose in my system was demanding some kind of work out. So I spent ten minutes of my Sunday hauling on my favourite winter leggings with fleece knee warmers, a skins thermal top, a thin fleece top, wind cheater, thermal gloves, face buff, wool hat, and thermal socks in gortex shoes. This is what I had to wear to defy snow, wind and a skating rink of black ice along the towpath for the next two hours of my Sunday, with a killer final 30 minutes hauling arse through bitter headwinds to home. I was, surprisingly perhaps, joined by hordes of other people who think going for a potter in sub zero conditions is a fine way to spend part of their day off, with others wearing anything from shorts (must be Northerners or Canadians) to puffer jackets (soft Southerners). Whatever gets you out there ... but I am so looking forward to Spring (okay, it is supposed to be Spring now but it will come properly ... eventually).

Finnish Saunas and other of life's necessities

After any more than an hour skiing north of the Arctic circle the only way to defrost is to use the sauna. Forget cellulite, sagging flesh and modesty. If you're in Finland, get in, get your gear off and stop worrying. There are of course, basic hygiene principles to follow ... none of which I managed to work out on my first attempt even with helpful instructions in English posted in several prominent positions in the chill out area. (Tip 1: bath towels are out, but the stack of paper towels in the corner are very important).

It's not just the cold that is arrested in the sauna. It's the point at which daily velcro wars, when outer fastenings meet inner fleece, can be forgotten (Tip 2: always put your gloves on last!). It's the point at which the damp sheep smell that comes from merino thermals can be removed for the evening. It's the place where no-one can see me ski, thereby avoiding the look of compassion that comes into the eyes of the Finns when they do. 

I am nothing if not the triumph of hope over experience, or cowardice, when it comes to skiing. To me, a bump on a blue run seems to generate stellar speed. And while the idea of having a nice machine make tracks for me to ski in everyday is very comforting, it was not until the last day that I realised I could in fact step (or skate if you're one of those show off ski skater types who deserve no space in the sauna as punishment for the ungodly grace that was given to them) out of them and snow plough, rather than tumble anarchically, down a hill. (Tip 3: the great advantage of skiing in the off season is that it reduces the chances of such descents causing damage to anyone but myself). No matter how graceful or ungainly the skiing, though, everyone on the trails has the possibility at some point in their day to come to stillness in a landscape that has the quality of silence that only comes when the world is wrapped in snow.

Just as I managed to give up on braking and turning when on skis, hoping that the run ahead would eventually even out and there would be no corners in the meantime, so too with my sled driving abilities, where my dogs adopted the same look of compassion as the Finns. Huskies, apart from having to put up with dodgy drivers, also suffer from a beauty myth. On every postcard in every Arctic gift shop in Lapland are the familiar grey and white, blue eyed standard models. But most in my crew were just a motley bunch of mongrels with a one-dimensional love of running. They really do. As we approached launch time their barking reached the dog equivalent of a jet engine before take off.

The recuperative power of the sauna is complimented by the Finnish buffet. (Tip 4: it is not stealing to make nutella and cheese sandwiches from the breakfast buffet to take with you for lunch). Finland isn't known for it's vegetarian friendliness but luckily I'll eat fish because somehow they don't count. Put it this way ... it's either compromise on the fish or eat reindeer and it will be a warm day in the Arctic winter before I eat Rudolph. This did not stop Chemical Elvis from tucking in however. It is slightly discomforting to be sitting in a restaurant enjoying the bucolic scene outside of reindeer grazing while Chemical Elvis eats one inside. I made up for it with a 'pint of cream with a hint of mushroom' soup, followed by lappish cheese in a sweet cream sauce and berries. If it can be made with berries the Finns have done it, including the lovely sounding cloudberries, bilberries, arctic brambles and sea buckthorns.

If any further solace is needed after the sauna and food, there is that great scientific phenomenon of the Arctic guaranteed to bring comfort during the long winter: the Finnish love of karaoke. Forget seeing the aurora - most tourists spent their evenings sitting out in -20 degrees, under cloudy skies, still thinking they're going to see something, and missing the most fantastic renditions in Finnish of  'Almaaz', 'Walk the Line' and 'Crocodile Rock' in the local bar all of which seem to have karaoke machines and remain at a steady +20 degrees (Tip 5: the bar man will sing the male parts if you need to duet). Unfortunately no-one chose to sing Bowie's 'Space Oddity' while we were there. I would like to have heard that version while sipping on the pint of gin and something (yes that's a PINT) that they serve on tap .... Perhaps a sauna might be better.