By lunch, we had all the steps together, and we were finally allowed to try the full thing, and before we knew it we were (inching) down the practice track like (non) professionals. But it sure was fun, and the Alpine scenery was spectacular.
We spent the afternoon working on going downhill and stopping, and when the sun started to set we headed into the Hütte for an evening shower and a delicious meal in the Gaststübe of Wild Pig Gulasch and beer. And nothing tastes better than a beer in a warm cozy room after a day in the winter air. Mmmm. The Wild Pig, it turns out, had been shot by the owner's husband—he wanted to take a weekend to go hunting with his pals, and his wife told him "alright, but only if you bring back something that we can use". It turns out he did, two big bristly somethings, which we devoured in delicious gulasch form with Butterspätzle and Blaukraut.
After a night of intermittent sleep—I kept waking up dangerously close to the edge of my very high up bunk bed—one look out the window revealed a much winterier landscape. It had blizzarded in the night, and everything was white white white. I lifted by head from my hay pillow (that's right. It smelled like a giant Chamomile tea bag and was very crunch) and headed down the ladder. OUCH. My calves were quite sore. Very sore. I limped to breakfast but was immediately revived by fresh coffee, boiled eggs, ham and wurstaufschnitt, cheese, yoghurt and delicious bread made in wooden ovens on the premises. Then, we headed out to face the snow.
We had to run 15 minutes uphill to catch the bus to the train, and when I finally got home I was completely exhausted but I had enough energy left to unpack my delicious souvenirs: freshly baked wood stove bread, game (hunted) salami and smoked Bergkäse. Dellllliiiiccciiiouuuusss. Anyone interested in joining me for my next cross country ski adventure?