Well, here I am again, the Green Bogey Down Under and looking forward to another year of marvelling at all the marvellous things in this marvellous country. The transition from jetlagged zombie to cork-hatted drongo has advanced well, and it has been nice to re-familiarise myself with some of my favourite things down under. Australian Idol is back on the TV and the wattle is full to bursting, a sure sign of summer on the way and I have to say I cannot wait to be wearing shorts and sizzling snags before long.
It’s not all sun sun sun though and some of you will be flabbergasted to find out that they have a white thing called snow in this sun-baked country. They even have a sport called skiing and snowboarding, though even the least snooty Frenchman would admit it is nothing in comparison to les Alpes! But just over two hours in my marvellous car took me to a weekend in the snow with a bunch of Aussies, all wrapped up and ready for the perishing lows of -3C. We took over a great B&B off the Alpine Way, with a roaring log fire the backdrop to lots of cheese and wine and chocolate… it could almost be Switzerland!
So, closely guarding my wallet the next day, I headed to Perisher Blue, the largest ski resort in Australia apparently and unsurprisingly busy on a sunny Saturday. To ski or not to ski that is the question. A question I quickly answered given the quite exorbitant cost of lift passes and associated paraphernalia. I was happy with the novelty factor of snow in Australia and, after a good winter, there was quite substantial depth to it. It wasn’t just snowmen and snowball fights though, as they thoughtfully provide a Snow Tube, the simplest explanation of which is hurtling down a slippery slope with a big rubber ring around your butt (or if you are extra daring like me, lying on your front head first)! It was good, wholesome fun and, yeah, a little thrilling… I just wish the runs were maybe a little longer and I also wish I didn’t look such a clown in my hastily scrambled together “ski-wear”.
For the more sedate winter tourists like us, another fine thing to do is to take one of the chairlifts, have a scrummy jacket potato (but no Bedruthan) at the mid-station and then zoom up to the top taking in the expansive views. Sure, it’s do Aguille Du Midi – and with it no sign of altitude drunkness – but it’s as good as you’ll get down under.
It’s not all sun sun sun though and some of you will be flabbergasted to find out that they have a white thing called snow in this sun-baked country. They even have a sport called skiing and snowboarding, though even the least snooty Frenchman would admit it is nothing in comparison to les Alpes! But just over two hours in my marvellous car took me to a weekend in the snow with a bunch of Aussies, all wrapped up and ready for the perishing lows of -3C. We took over a great B&B off the Alpine Way, with a roaring log fire the backdrop to lots of cheese and wine and chocolate… it could almost be Switzerland!
So, closely guarding my wallet the next day, I headed to Perisher Blue, the largest ski resort in Australia apparently and unsurprisingly busy on a sunny Saturday. To ski or not to ski that is the question. A question I quickly answered given the quite exorbitant cost of lift passes and associated paraphernalia. I was happy with the novelty factor of snow in Australia and, after a good winter, there was quite substantial depth to it. It wasn’t just snowmen and snowball fights though, as they thoughtfully provide a Snow Tube, the simplest explanation of which is hurtling down a slippery slope with a big rubber ring around your butt (or if you are extra daring like me, lying on your front head first)! It was good, wholesome fun and, yeah, a little thrilling… I just wish the runs were maybe a little longer and I also wish I didn’t look such a clown in my hastily scrambled together “ski-wear”.
For the more sedate winter tourists like us, another fine thing to do is to take one of the chairlifts, have a scrummy jacket potato (but no Bedruthan) at the mid-station and then zoom up to the top taking in the expansive views. Sure, it’s do Aguille Du Midi – and with it no sign of altitude drunkness – but it’s as good as you’ll get down under.
The après ski action back in the valley took in the world’s snappiest Schnapps tasting assistant, perfecting her German attitude to a tee. And then it was a wonderful dinner back at the lodge, more cheese, wine and possibly the longest game of trivial pursuit ever. The Australian edition that is, in which I was tested with the ingredients of Anzac biscuits and the whereabouts of the famous Jacaranda festival (Grafton apparently). So much still to learn.
With that in mind, my journey back took a small detour to the fabled Snowy River. I say fabled because that’s how you usually see or hear it described. Say Snowy River to any true blue Ocker and the tears will well up in the eye and they will rush home to bake some Lamingtons. It’s one of those things I don’t really understand and never will, but a stop at the small town of Dalgety – which is another one of those places which nearly became the nation’s capital (and has never looked back since) – took me to its fabled edge.
There is also a fabled Maccers in Cooma which is almost as popular with Aussies it seems, and for some reason I have been in there far too many times over the course of the last couple of years. This time a customary frozen coke to keep me fuelled along the Monaro Highway, leaving the snow and winter behind and heading full steam into spring…
With that in mind, my journey back took a small detour to the fabled Snowy River. I say fabled because that’s how you usually see or hear it described. Say Snowy River to any true blue Ocker and the tears will well up in the eye and they will rush home to bake some Lamingtons. It’s one of those things I don’t really understand and never will, but a stop at the small town of Dalgety – which is another one of those places which nearly became the nation’s capital (and has never looked back since) – took me to its fabled edge.
There is also a fabled Maccers in Cooma which is almost as popular with Aussies it seems, and for some reason I have been in there far too many times over the course of the last couple of years. This time a customary frozen coke to keep me fuelled along the Monaro Highway, leaving the snow and winter behind and heading full steam into spring…
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