Heading out of Livigno and back into Switzerland Jess had definitely lost her cool and was about to lose it as we’d picked up one too many bottles of spirits on our duty free shop. We passed through the border unstopped, despite Jess looking like a guilty mule smuggling drugs over the Mexican/US border.

On our way to Mayrhofen to meet Jess’ parents we decided to drop into Ischgl, as Mark had been there with the boys the previous year and had enjoyed the skiing and lively Après. Unfortunately camper parking is hard to come by and not well advertised, so we opted for a small parking area we had seen by chance advertised from the main round leading out of Ischgl towards Mathon.

On a previous food shop we’d picked all the ingredients to make a casserole using the slow cooker we decided to bring on the trip. After 90 minutes of Jess’ prep we decided to get the slow cooker going throughout the night and the next day we would warm it through after skiing. Mark found what he thought to be the kettle lead for the slow cooker, which turned out to be for something else entirely, probably a PC or an actual kettle. After a further 60 minutes of trying to retrofit the cable by unscrewing the cooker fixture and shaving the cable with a Stanley blade, we gave up and cooked the meat off for that evenings meal instead. We now effectively own a £100 casserole dish as its the only salvageable part of the entire setup.

The next morning we picked up Mark’s skis which we had put in for a service and adjustment, then dropped Maggie off at a camper park we found on the internet that was a little closer to town. This site is usually a paddock for the rest of the year, but in the winter they allow motorhome parking with an electric hookup for 15 Euro a night.  We were going to catch the bus to the main ski area, but decided to ski down the cross country track and hook a right into town instead. Although Mark was convinced he knew the area well after skiing here the previous year, he managed to get disorientated on several occasions, this disorientation was to continue well into the evening when after skiing we managed several loops of Ischgl trying to find a particular bar and restaurant area Mark wanted to show Jess.

Ischgl seems to go from one extreme to the other, from very fancy high-end hotels and restaurants to what resembles a village social club, with not much in-between. Due to the high prices, we chose the latter option, although a bottle of wine was still 30 Euro minimum. As smoking indoors is allowed in many bars in Austria, we had to make a quick exit form this bar in particular, as we were sat very near a couple of chain smokers, and breathing was becoming a task! We crossed the road into Wine & More for some Riesling, schnapps and antipasti, and were shocked to find out that the food was 20 Euro per person, rather than for the platter.

Waking up in the morning we noticed that we had been unplugged from the electric and took this as our cue to leave. As it was early in the morning we were lucky enough to find a suitable spot for Maggie in the main car park by the lift, before all the other cars arrived for the day. First thing in the morning the queue for the main lift is chaotic with no system for the pile up, taking about 25 minutes, with a capacity of 28 people per lift.  Once we got up the mountain, we realised that our experience of getting on the first lift would set the tone for the rest of day. Due to the amount of people on the slopes around the Idalp area, we mainly stuck to the valley runs for the rest of the day, apart from dropping into Samnaun in the afternoon. On the way back over to Idalp, Jess was stopped after getting off the lift, by what seemed to be your average man in ski gear, asking her to open her backpack. The confused look on her face prompted him to eventually pull out his badge. Unbeknown to her at the time, she had just left a duty free area and he was there to check people weren’t exceeding their limits, and was sporadically checking people with backpacks. Hers however, was full with a bottle of water, a beanie, a shovel, a probe and a transceiver, so she was allowed to carry on and catch up with Mark who was oblivious.

That afternoon we made the 45km journey to St Anton, where a new campsite had opened in Arlberg since our last visit. We had a night of camping luxury with our own private bath house- complete with heating, shower, toilet, sink and separate washing up facilities. This was by far the best shower we’d had all trip. Despite being told the prices on our arrival, when we were ready to leave the following morning, they whacked on an extra 10 Euro for the ‘final clean down’, coming to a whopping 61 Euro for one night’s stay, and another 10 Euro if you want to stay past midday!

Due to the weather conditions and the fact we had both skied St Anton quite extensively previously, we decided against skiing today and chose to head for Germany as it was only a short detour on our way to Innsbruck. Desperate for a Launderette as Mark had run out of clean boxers two days ago, we arrived in Garmisch and made the ‘waschsalon’ our first stop. Whilst we had 3 full washing machines on the go, we wandered up the road to the local shops and bought ourselves our ‘Willkommen’ sign for Maggie and a cowbell! As there is no room in the van to dry our clothes, everything goes in the tumble drier and we have resigned ourselves to that fact that all our clothes will have shrunk/misshapen by the time we go home.

Searching for overnight parking with easy access to the slopes, we came across the ‘Wankbahn’ car park, where several motorhomes had set up for the night, but the lift was closed for maintenance and only had access to walking trails anyway, so we continued our search until we found the cheapest, most popular camping location, Erlebnis Zugspitze. That evening and after Mark had stopped chuckling like a child, we chose to catch the hourly bus into town, as we were a few kilometres out, but as we couldn’t find the bus stop (it was slightly round a bend) the bus went whizzing past and left us standing there staring at it’s lights fading into the distance. Although disappointing as it was about 8pm and we didn’t want to wait another hour for the bus, we stumbled upon the Schmölzer Wirt restaurant that was probably a lot nicer than any we would’ve found in the centre, with the added bonus of avoiding a taxi fare home. Although the meal was delicious and we had a very enjoyable evening all in all, unfortunately for us a young family arrived with two small children who screamed, threw cutlery, bashed plates and cried the whole way through our meal- and they were sat within touching distance. We wouldn’t normally mind if we’d had an earlier sitting, but eating at about 9pm usually means you avoid tantrums from 1 and 3 year olds. Immediately after finishing our last mouthful, we took our wine through to finish in the far more peaceful bar, and tried out the local schnapps.

The weather the next morning was wet and the freezing level was at around 2000 metres, so we decided to do some rambling at the local gorge instead of ski.

We dropped Maggie off at the main carpark and started the 1.5km walk up the winding road to the entrance of the gorge. Not expecting much, we were surprised at the magnitude of the rock height and rushing water in such a unassuming location. We then walked the length of the gorge through winding tunnels and exposed balconies which ended in a vast open area that resembled walking through the Narnia wardrobe. Not satisfied with the 4k trek, we decided to continue and climb up to come over the top of the gorge and make our way back down the opposite side. We climbed for what seemed like an age, with a few people passing us in the opposite direction (no one following our route) so we came to the conclusion that we had in fact stumbled on the 3.5 hour trail back to the gorge entrance, rather than the 30 min option we thought that we were on track for completing. After some bold choices and perseverance through a newly forming blizzard, we made if back to the gorge entrance, and scoffed some goulash soup in the restaurant adjacent.

With one more night to kill before picking up Jess’ parents from Innsbruck, we decided to drop in to Kuhtai to see if we could catch any of The Jump live. The production looked impressive from a little distance, but when you get closer, it all seemed to be a bit of a shambles. We saw first hand how the production staff treated the locals who they had employed for security, and actually felt embarrassed to be British at times. We have however enjoyed the show in the past, so we stuck around until the end. After all, we had filled a flask of hot chocolate to see us through an hour of standing out in the cold and we didn’t want to waste it by going home too soon!

Next stop, Innsbruck, to grab the parents…