Fraser Mountain - Living the snow life

Chapter Eight

Taking a quick look outside to assess the temperature, I've opted for a pair of my favourite jeans, faithful Converse and a zip-up fleece worn over a long-sleeved thermal. I learnt the hard way that it's all about the layering when you're somewhere cold, even if it looks warm and sunny outside. There was an unfortunate incident on a chairlift in Tignes many years ago where I nearly froze to death because I thought it would be cool to ride in a t-shirt. I'm older and wiser now.

Like the time-precise Brit that I am, I wait for everyone else in the Hostel lobby but I get bored after five minutes and head over to one of the sofas, pick up a discarded newspaper and give it a quick flick. The front page of the Fraser Local is a far cry from The Times. There's a lead story about the disappearance of an orange Husquavarna 390 Chainsaw, presumed stolen from the back of a work truck parked outside of the Elk Valley Motel, sometime between midnight and 6am on Monday.

'Been waiting long?' Tim asks, peering over the newspaper as I chuckle quietly to myself.

'Ages.' I wink. 'Did you see Dan on your travels?'

'Yeah, he's just putting his keks on. But I reckon Benno got a call about a job so he's not coming. Fuck knows where Stevie is. He'll find us if he's bothered.'

Dan and Taz appear round the corner, Dan looking much better than he did at breakfast. Needless to say, he smells a lot better too.

'You fit?' he asks us all, clasping his hands together in anticipation.

'Slow down, mate. It's not a race!' Taz pants, trying to keep up with me as I stride down Second Avenue. I check myself and realise that I'm walking at twice the speed of everyone else. I need to remind myself that London pace is a far cry from Fraser pace.

As if to remind me, I turn onto Main Street and a spectacular view greets me. The three snow-capped peaks of Fraser Mountain rise up at the end of the street, taking my breath away with their majesty.

'Wow.' I murmur.

'Aw, mate... I'd forgotten you'd only just arrived!' Taz hops from foot to foot excitedly and yanks my arm. '...Isn't that a view, eh?'

All I can mutter is another 'Wow.' The view is really beautiful, and slightly intimidating at the same time. I can't believe how much snow there is already or that I'll be riding those peaks in a matter of weeks. I thought it wouldn't start getting really cold until next month but then again, if last night's temperature was anything to go by, it wouldn't surprise me if the snow-line gets lower and lower. A dusting of white creeps towards the top of each craggy peak, above the tree-line.

Rob follows my gaze. 'I went up there on Wednesday. There's a fair amount of snow already. We should hitch and take you for a wander tomorrow.'

'Hitch?' I ask.

'Yeah, you know – hitch. Catch a lift?' he explains. 'There's even a place called the 'Hitching Post' on the outskirts of town. I'll show ya.'

'Hitching, as in I-could-get-raped-by-an-evil-axe-wielding-pyscho-hitching?' I ask, looking worried. The others just look at me and laugh.

Taz explains. 'Nah, silly. Hitching's a pretty normal way of travelling round here. It's perfectly safe, I promise.'

'Ah, okay. Well, I guess it's no more dangerous than the Northern Line in rush hour.'

Taz grabs my arm and we carry on walking. She looks over her shoulder: 'C'mon, there's loads more to see than the mountains. I'll take you to the local supermarket. It's called – and you'll never believe me – Overwaitea Foods.'

Two hours later and I feel like the yesterday's travels are catching up with me. Maybe I am too old for this season-worker malarkey. I left the others rootling around the local hardware store. I'm all for looking at chainsaws and hunting rifles, but I want to go back to the Hostel and get out my laptop. It's time to get back in touch with my old life.