On our drive to the airport to drop of Jess’ parents we realised that you do in fact need a Vignette on Austrian motorways, previously we’d thought that it was only required for Switzerland. A Vignette is basically road tax that allows you to use the faster arterial roads in the country, similar but much cheaper than the UK tax. As we’d been driving around Austria for about a week, Mark panicked thinking that there could be a big fine coming in the post, so before leaving the Innsbruck airport he dropped by the police station to ask what would be the best thing to do. They directed him to a local newsagent where we could pickup various durations on the Vignette, for which we opted for 10 days. The policeman that helped seemed quite chuffed that we had got away without paying for one so far, and informed Mark that the only time you get fined is when you are caught by the officials that hide in wait on some of the junctions leaving the tolled roads. After a pat on the back and a ‘well done’ from the policeman, we made our way to Zell am See for some lakeside parking for a change of scenery. We arrived at the Seecamp campsite in the late afternoon and setup for the evening. The weather and scenery were great and after sundown we relaxed and got stuck into our next boxset, Downton Abbey, while drinking our replenished stocks of Tetley tea.

The next day was another chilled one and the most exciting thing we did was get some clothes washing done in-between more movies and boxsets. It was the first bedding wash of the trip and we were staggered how the thing didn’t walk to a washing machine itself in plain protest before now!

After settling up the campsite bill, 68 Euro for the two nights, we drove to nearby Kaprun.

We skied the Kaprun-Kitzsteinhorn area on advice of the locals as having the best conditions at the present time. The piste ski area is an average size (41km) and we managed to get around the best of it in a few hours, this said, the off-piste is great fun and it was easy to seek out some untracked powder and couloirs to smash our legs back into condition after the previous lazy days. It’s shocking how a few days of not skiing has an effect on muscle memory and strength! We called it a day by mid afternoon and made our way back to Maggie via the lifts to the carpark.

That evening we drove to a small campsite 14km away from Kitzbuhel and bedded down for the evening.

After a random conversation with the campsite owner on whether we thought that the UK should leave the EU, we got on the road and headed to Kitzbuhel. Despite getting out and organised relatively early, Mark hit one of those ski pass queues where everyone either wants a long chat with the bureau staff, or they want to know every permutation of ski pass depending on numbers and days skied. It took 30 minutes to get to the front of the very short queue after Mark swapped lanes a couple of times, with the original people who were holding it all up still discussing the options with what was now, clearly irritated staff.

It’s sad to say that the piste conditions here were the worst we’ve had so far and we’re not sure why as the area seems really popular and it is geared up to be a bustling resort. The vast majority of the pistes didn’t seem to have been bashed and there was a serious amount of ice and moguls on every run, which was taking its toll on a lot of skiers and boarders trying to enjoy a days skiing. After persevering with the conditions and heading across the resort in hope of finding better conditions we gave up and took the run all the way down to the carpark, which at the lower levels was slushy but surprisingly more enjoyable to ski than the ice fields higher up.The complete reverse of how it should be!

Unfortunately, the maintenance of the pistes transcended into the resort carpark where Maggie was stuck by a series of pot holes hidden by snowfall that hadn’t been cleared from several days previous, but after fitting her snow socks and rocking around we were finally free and back on the road.

The majority of the Austrian ski areas we have visited require access via main cable cars from the valley resort, which is great if you prefer to be in a slightly warmer location and prefer not to do the sometimes dodgy climb up winding mountain roads to get to resort. However, we enjoy being high in the mountain and having the full effect of winter around us. So, craving some resort-level living, we pointed Maggie back in the direction of Italy and made our way to Cortina.

Some serious levels of snow had just starting to come down across the whole of northern Italy, so we were excited to get out and make the most of it. Leaving the snow to do it’s thing, we spent the next couple of days bumming around Cortina, trying to avoid traffic wardens and get away with free parking, and of course more Downton Abbey.

When the clear skies arrived there had been approximately 90cm of snow dumped over the three days previous. Having not skied here before and noting the avalanche risk was level 4, Mark ventured out with full avalanche gear, including ABS to check out the conditions. Jess would join early in the afternoon after a mountain of washing up and some other pink jobs.

Cortina is Italy’s ‘go to’ ski resort when it comes to fashion and being seen, with most visitors lunching in the sun rather than actually skiing. The effect of this is uncrowded skiing and relatively non-existent queues at all the lifts. Perfect for a powder day!

Mark made it up the Faloria cable car and was told that all other lifts on east side of the resort would be closed for 30 minutes due avalanche pockets still needing to be cleared. Watching the helicopter buzz around overhead and drop charges to clear the snow was pretty amazing, especially when the snow lost its grip and came tumbling down over the freshly bashed pistes below.

After a couple of hours of bouncing around Mark made it back down to meet Jess and continue skiing the afternoon. Needing to grab a quick snack, Mark opted for a vending machine stomach turning coffee, and a twix. Jess decided to hold out, a wise choice.

Skiing a circuit is essentially the way the eastern side of Cortina is set up, with a mixture of long/short runs that are all interconnected by the lift network, it feels very similar to the Sella Ronda without the rock in the middle, which coincidentally is accessible from this area for those wishing to go further afield. There are some good powder stashes to be found under the Cristallo side of the mountain, with some tricky and long tree runs that take you good distance away from the piste and terminate in the carpark near Passo tre Croci (we think). We stopped for a late lunch in Rio Gere  to admire the locals and weekend visitors doing the same, although we did look out of place in practical skiing gear within faux fur collars with matching headbands.

We finished the day descending the Faloria cable car and taking in the view, ending with us returning to Maggie to find all our traffic warden dodging and clandestine van movements had not outwitted the local traffic police.

This afternoon Jess made another failed attempt to create a Moonpig card for mothers day, as sods law with these things the mobile broadband was allowing good and steady progress until the time it came to submit and create the masterpiece, at which time Jess’ iPhone became unresponsive and the couple of hours worth of photo selection and uploading had come to a bitter end. Observing the frustrating failure of IT equipment, Mark opted for a one photo option for his Mum which was completed in around five minutes.

Feeling quite tired we didn’t fancy a long drive so we made our way to Arabba, which is part of the Sella Ronda circuit. The entire drive from Cortina is mainly high mountain roads which were starting to ice up from the warm weather during the day, with the now sub-zero outside temperature. Keeping an eye on the outside temperature we didn’t hang around getting to resort as these aren’t the sort of roads that you want to get caught on for an evening if the weather closes in.

We arrived in the nick of time at 18.57, giving us just enough time to run into the local supermarket to pick up some drinking water that we were completely out of, before the store closed at 7pm.

We woke early the next morning and while Mark went skiing for a few hours, Jess continued her determined mission of creating her mothers day card, so headed to one of the local hotels to grab a hot drink and jump on the Wifi. Regretfully giving up with the same technical hitch as the previous days, Jess headed back to Maggie where Mark was waiting. He had returned early due to the large queues of people trying to get around the full Sella Ronda circuit, which was making for dangerously crowded skiing. After a ham sandwich and a cup of Tetley’s finest, we began the long 190km journey to Madonna di Campiglio. After a turbulent drive over the Dolomites, we arrived at our destination and around 9pm, a mere 5 hours after leaving Arabba. Luckily for us we found a decently secluded parking spot outside of town, skipped dinner and crashed for the evening amidst a blizzard outside.

The next days weather continued to be miserable so it was declared a ‘no-ski-day’, which did allow for Jess to concentrate on her favourite task of nailing the mothers day card, which would need to be completed before 4pm to meet the next day delivery deadline. Using the laptop this time and burning tonnes more data, the original template Jess wanted to use had suddenly become unavailable on the website. Not wanting to admit defeat to the machines in charge of this debacle, she regretfully opted for a card with a single photo. Due to the ‘no-ski-day’ status we did manage one accomplishment, to get through our last segment of season 5 and the whole of season 6 of Downton Abbey, leaving only one remaining boxset, the full James Bond collection.

The weatherman got it wrong the following morning, as when we pulled up the blinds it was a perfectly clear day, so we got busy with breakfast and headed straight out. Bit of a mad dash for the public toilets near the skipass office this morning, this was due to the fact we hadn’t been able to empty the onboard toilet as we were saving cash and wild camping for a few days. Jess led this mission with Mark following closely behind.

As we wanted to get over to the Aosta side of Italy next to take advantage of the recent fresh snowfall, we purchased a 4 hour skipass so that we could break up the pending long journey with a stop at Lake Garda, which is in the middle from a driving time perspective, but not distance.

We headed up the mountain for what seemed like ages and disembarked 800 metres of ascent later, opting for the top station rather than the mid-way point. We took a couple of blues all the way down to the bottom (60 & 66), at which point Mark decided to have a ham roll in the Jumper bar as his porridge 90 minutes earlier hadn’t really hit the spot, then to the other side of the mountain! While playing around in the powder at the side of the piste, Jess made a slow motion sideways stack which was quickly followed up with a courtesy snow spray from Mark, almost completely burying Jess in the white stuff.

After a few more runs and realising that our passes wouldn’t get us any further in the lift system we made our may back to our first bubble, where we shared it with the smelliest man in Europe, who, preceded to shut the window as he entered the lift. Mark made the excuse of being too hot and asked it to be opened again, much to his annoyance. Now, given that we’re living in a motorhome traveling the Alps and grabbing showers every few days (with baby wipes in-between) before smells are totally obvious to us, we found it outstanding that we had shared a lift with somebody who had clearly made a conscious effort to ‘out-smell’ his fellow lift companions. This was the skiing equivalent of being trapped with a fart in an elevator! To smell like that through full ski gear really takes commitment.

After several minutes of breathing into the collars of our jackets, this time choosing to disembark at the mid station, we were finally free to gulp fresh mountain air and regain full consciousness before continuing our skiing feeling slightly woozy from the whole ordeal.

Our final runs of the day were spent mainly off-piste, where Jess attempted to make her first ‘gap’ of a boulevard nestled below a natural kicker, which would give enough ‘air’ to clear the jump by a few feet. Unfortunately having a minor confidence lapse, she was leaning too far back and landed painfully too short pulling a shoulder muscle in the process. This time, concerned at this stack (as it wasn’t one to follow-up with a snow-spraying), Mark thrashed around in the deep powder attempting to come to Jess’ rescue shouting “are you hurt”. In the time it took Mark to wade through the snow, the main bulk of the pain had dissipated and Jess was back on her feet, massaging the area of the pain. Not wanting to push our luck, we called it a day and made it back into the town centre to pickup a postcard for the wall of cash.

We arrived at Lake Garda for 6pm and made the most of sundown before heading out for some fodder at a nearby restaurant in Sirmione. The next day would be the remainder of the jaunt over into the Aosta Valley.