I didn’t see the winter mountains last year. Covid imprisoned me in the lowlands. It was against the rules and morals of the day to stay anywhere but in one’s own bedroom. But I have a harvest this year! The snow is again clouds and sleeping in the rented bed is IN again.
Between the holidays we managed to go to Rokytnice, in January to Bedřichov for a few days. The weather didn’t suit us, the snow was from below, from above, in the hood, behind the collar, in the boots, just everywhere. The goal, however, was not to enjoy, but to re-melt the five-year-old son after a two-year break. And because children rarely notice bad weather, the task succeeded due to the considerable suffering of their parents.
Last weekend, Alena Zárybnická finally reported an azure sky with a yellow sun in the middle, and I couldn’t miss it. Despite the idyllic mountain weather, one problem was unfortunately found – my husband and our friends already had different plans. But I’m not a srab, I’ll go with my son alone! And because in addition to courage, I also lack naivety, this time I want to teach him to cross-country ski (I can see how you’re laughing now). But there are no small goals. All sorts of motivational bullshit about the fun of cross-country skiing made my son so excited that he enjoyed at least as much as I did when he left home.
The mountains are great
Where there is a will, there is a way. I say to myself in a traffic jam in front of God’s Gift, which tells me that many, many other families had the same idea as I did. In addition, the situation is complicated by police officers who manage traffic before entering the village. When I manage to convince the men of the law that I am legally accommodated and therefore authorized to park directly in front of the boarding house, another wonderful thing awaits me – to stay. Since I’m here alone with my son, there are three ways to do it: 1) lock Vašík in the car and carry things to the room 2) carry things and force Vašík to come here and there with me 3) settle Vašík in the restaurant of the pension, carry things and hope he doesn’t go anywhere in between
Because I am a modern mother leading my son to independence, I choose the third option. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll pick you up in a minute. If someone else wants to take you away, shout HELP, HELP! ”Proud of my motherly perfection, I run twice from the car to the third floor of the boarding house, burdened by provisions, to conclude that Vašík left his chair in the restaurant and went unknown. There is no street in front of the boarding house, so in a heart attack I run around the boarding house again and I doubt my mother’s perfection. I find Vašík cute in my anger in the attic children’s playroom, where an inflatable balloon is bursting at the mouth of a foreign boy. His father is very displeased. “Pardon.”
Mostly don’t freeze
My cross-country clothing is primarily designed for cross-country skiing. I realize that this time it will not be about movement at all, only after an hour and the first kilometer I scrape off the snow deposits from the base with frozen fingers. Despite the sun, they are minus three degrees and a cold wind blows. I would like to curse with pleasure, but I can’t, cross-country skiing is great fun. After another two hours full of falls, motivations, lifts, rewards and other motivations, I admit that cross-country skiing does not always have to be so great and I allow my son to take off the cross-country skis.
His walking speed is much higher than when he “rides” on cross-country skis. We arrive at the destination of the 5,600 m long route after four and a half cold hours and look forward to the hot tub and sauna of our guest house. “We’re full, you should have ordered that last week.” I learn. But we didn’t know at all that we were coming here. Well, nothing, I’ll have a grog.
The next day I run out of motivation and rewards right after the first kilometer, so we prefer to laugh in the afternoon on snow tubing. Wenceslas is happy and I, despite the warmer clothes, have frozen like sable shit again. Today we drove 1.5 km on cross-country skis, much more on rubber tires. So hell or paradise? Both for me. On the way home, he starts scratching my throat.