After two weeks of frantically searching for borrowed ski gear, I was up at 6am last Wednesday to dress and head to the bus station before 7am. Two dark hours of noisy 13-year-olds later, we pulled up to the town of Pradollano, the main town of the Sierra Nevada Ski Resort. Our guide handed out lift passes, and it was onto the gondola and up the mountain.
|Pradollano and the mountains|
|Walking on skis|
|Halfway up the slope|
|Me and the kids|
WHOOSH. "What was tha...oh, Antonio forgot how to stop again....cuña, Antonio!...yup, he's fallen over now."
THUMP. "Who fell over this time?" "Daniel. Again. No, Daniel, try standing up with your skis on this time. Hey, Manolo, once you've sorted out Antonio, Daniel needs help again!"
THUMP. "Was that...". "Yup. Antonio." "How did he manage to fall over when he wasn't even moving?..." "I have no idea."
*This dialogue is not verbatim, but is 90% accurate. I'm sure because this happened many times...many, many times.
After a quick sandwich lunch sitting in the lovely warm, comfortable snow, we had an hour of free skiing time until we had to meet again to take the bus. I elected to go with our PE teacher Joaquín and some of the boys in my group, since they were doing the larger slope. What I didn't realise was that they were taking the ski lift to the top of the nearest slope...ALL the way to the top.
|On the main slope|
|Waiting on my boys...|
|Second ski lift from the right - top to bottom!|