St. Anton: A first class snow haven

One evening last fall, I got a text message from Becks, an English friend I met snowboarding in New Zealand and an irreplaceable travelling companion:

"We are recruiting for a ski trip to St. Anton Austria, last week of January. Are you in?"

For a moment, the weak Canadian dollar took the upper hand over how intensely excited I get whenever there’s the promise of powder. Slow as molasses, I started to write back the letter N… I clenched my teeth, got ready to text the O… and then said… What the heck, we only have one life to live! I erased the horrid N and replaced it with a YES full of sparkling joy. On January 27, I found myself spread across three empty seats flying with Air Canada (the new 3-for-1 economy class), well on my way to a guaranteed great time.

I feel so small!

Innsbruck was my first stop since my English friends wouldn’t arrive in St. Anton for another two days. Two days of peace. Why not take advantage of the time alone and try to fly over the Alps to better understand where I am on the map? Ninety-five Euros later, I was looking down on Schlick 2000 and knew one thing was for sure: this was an incredible place.

Incredible place indeed

Véronique and the Alps

Slow and steady wins the race! But not so slow because St. Anton is only 45 minutes of choo choo time from the capital of the Alps. It’s like a luxury Playmobile winter wonderland. I’m hungry… oh a bakery! I’m thirsty… oh a café! I’m alone… oh the lovely Norwegian smile! I have time to kill… oh a North Face store, an Arc’teryx store, a Prada store… Nothing less for this Playmobile skier!

Did somebody say skiing? Check me out at the ticket counter:

- One ski pass for 7 days please.
- 244 Euros.
- And the one for 5 days?
- 182 Euros.
- Which one should I take?
- What else are you going to do but ski in St. Anton?
- You’re absolutely right, 7 days please. I’m already here – to hell with saving money!

Wow! Is all I could say on my first ride down number 34, a long traverse leading to last night’s freshly fallen powder. I had to take advantage right away of the amazing snow – it might be all that fell that week. I rode # 33, # 18, #16, #15, up, across, and down, up, across, and down, up, across, and down. All week long, my first day of snowy ecstasy repeated itself, much like the perfect Groundhog Day. As the week progressed, the only differences were I spread more and more Myoflex on my right knee, looked more and more like a raccoon and became more and more funny in English. As I drained my camera battery, I remembered that, yes, I had brought the converter but had left the adapter on my bed in Tremblant. Certain images now play over and over only in my mind – the hard drive of single-minded happiness!

If you’re thinking of going to Austria, you won’t need to bring too many clothes for two good reasons: as of last December, airlines only allow one suitcase, and anyways, there’s only one dress code for the snowy days and late nights of St. Anton. I could have gotten on the plane dressed in my ski clothes and never taken them off until I returned.

That’s why you should wear Icebreaker’s merino wool long-underwear, which regulates body temperature whether you’re in an icy wind at the summit or thick crowds on the dance floor. Merino wool doesn’t hold body odor, or the smell of beer and filet mignon. It’s also recognizable by its rich colours and soft texture when touched unexpectedly on the dance floor.

Proof they’ve mastered the “après-ski.”

The “après-ski” is something Austrians really understand. Sorry I can’t give you more details, you have to experience it to understand. I hope you can all travel to this wonderful Playmobile winter wonderland. For my English friends, I’ll end this article with a simple thought that says a lot: It’s mint!

Véronique Forget