“Would you like snow-chains with that…?”

The 08/09 holiday account Part 1

This holiday has been a great one, certainly one that ranks highly on my favourite list of all the time we’ve spent in Europe. Two weeks of skiing in Austria is not a bad way to spend your Christmas and New Year. We missed family and friends to be sure, but spent a very merry Christmas and New Year despite the lack.

This vac has been notable on a few fronts. Firstly, a few new and novel experiences, and secondly, it has been cold. We’ve had cold days before, even at the temps that we had while we were away, but nothing as sustained as this was.

We left Prague in the low positives, hoping that there would be good snow and decent cold to keep it. By the time we arrived in Austria, LATE on Friday night, it was already getting respectably chilly, snow everywhere, and falling. Our first few days were spent in a hotel situated literally on the slopes – ski-in, ski-out access to the hotel - very nice. But in order to get to it, we had to drive a few Km up the hill… from Solden to Hochsolden. The hill in question here is Alpine, so, it was never going to be your average ascent. Given the state of the weather, this required the use of snow chains – something that we’ve taken with us before, but never had to use, despite my nervous wife’s prompting on occasion.

En route to the hotel, Hayley’s colleague, who organised the group reservations for us at the hotel, and who had arrived earlier in the evening, called to caution us to make the climb with chains – he had passed others who hadn’t used on the way, and they had gotten stuck on the hill. He, of course, made the trip in a 4x4, so… no trouble. Heeding the advice, and the rising angst in the Bugz sitting next to me, we pulled over in Solden, just before the turn-off, to affix said snow chains and continue the trip.

As it happened, we stopped over right in-front of a strip joint – many of the ski areas have a few titty bars in them – Solden is no exception. Anyhow, it was about 7 below and approaching midnight when we pulled over. I had left my big, warm jacket at home in the chaos that is always the Woods departing on a trip. Still, I figured that I could have the chains on inside 15 minutes, and could cope with the temperature just in my fleece and jeans – sure it would be cold, but doable.

The principle is quite simple you understand – the chains are dummy-proof – there is a broken loop of steel cable that fits behind the wheel – it has a single, simple clasp that ties the two ends together and then there are a series of loose polygon-shaped petals that you fold over the tyre and loop together with another chain on the outside of the wheel… perfectly simple, you don’t even have to drive onto the chains to get the tyre covered! The whole assembly is colour-coded so that you basically just have to connect the dots and you’re done. You gotta love it. Anyway – this was to be the first of the new and novel experiences I was talking about a minute ago. I have never used snow-chains before – and here I get to use them for some real testing driving – maybe it’s just “guy thing” but driving up a hill that demands snow-chains is kinda cool, any sissy can drive up a hill on a dry day by pressing a little harder on the accelerator, but snow and gradients so bad that you need chains just to have a chance of making it to the top is just more notable – right? At the pub afterwards, with your mates you could tell all the boys about the hill you conquered with your chains – real men use chains!

Well, I got the the chains from the (very full) boot and opened up the case. They were warm to the touch for about a minute… and then were nothing more than unrelenting purveyors of cold. Undaunted, un-gloved and un-jacketed, chain-man over here got to work. First tyre… ok, this is simple enough – clasp the cable behind the tyre – not too tough, not much wheel clearance tho, so have to push long sleeves up to elbows to get behind the wheels and make the join. Got it, now to flop the traction-bits over and tie them up… hmmm, how is this supposed to work again…? I get the inside loop nice and even, but while getting the first of the polys tied up, the ones on the opposite side of the wheel have buggered off behind the tyre… get hold of them, fingers are going numb, but still working ok, pull on chains to get them even again… no give, not even so that I can see the loops to secure them… I start with the furrowed brow, fussing with the chains, loosening a little here to get more give there, but they slip out and collapse behind the wheel. Back to square one. It’s been about 15 minutes now and I’m getting cold, and shivering – can’t feel much in my fingers anymore, but recognise the chains as distinct from the car by sound and the extra pain of grasping their sharp edges. After another 10 minutes or so of this wrestling match, I begin speaking in tongues – my chosen dialect on this occasion is high French, and I’m glad the engine is running, and the noise of the fan dominate the cabin so the wife and kids can’t hear the old man heaping expletives upon these non-cooperative inanimates.

Soon enough my struggle is noticed by a group of patrons exiting the titty bar I mentioned just now… They wander over having had an eye-full and a skin-full, and begin spouting advice in German – My German is bad, but good enough to know that they are not going to be of much help. As the monologue wears on, Hayley establishes rapport with the group, and by a twist of fate they happen to work for the same company, suddenly I have extra people getting their hands on the problem – maybe they can get it figured out. At this point I would gladly take the hit on my pride, if they get it sorted, I just want to get out of the cold and get to the hotel. It’s been close on an hour now and I am beginning to lose interest in how cool snow-chains are. They take over and sukkel just as much as I have on wheel one, another group takes the second chain and begins work on the other wheel. I’m saved! A group of natives – surely they will conquer these blasted chains and we can get home. After watching the experts at work for about 10 minutes, I become convinced that they are wasting my time and making slower progress than I was, now that is saying something. Still, one can’t be too grateful for help. We decide that the car must be moved forward onto the chains to enable them to be fitted correctly. Hayley, now in the driver’s seat is inching forward, then back, then forward, then back… no progress is being made. This goes on of some time and I take control of wheel one again. Now I am shivering so violently that, an outsider would have been justified in asking his companions what business an epileptic had, trying to fit snow-chains to his vehicle during a seizure.

I still have feeling in my hands but it has nothing to do with the usual sensations one would normally associate with the forms one is touching. It is a monochrome pain that varies not in location, which is from fingertip to elbow, but only in intensity. Now another group of spectators arrives, they are en-route to the skin and perfume shop. There is a motor-mechanic among them, these men are pissed as newts, they are in good spirits, and very helpful as a result. The mechanic first asks everyone present “who hates George Bush?” After we come to the obvious unanimity, the formalities are over, and he goes to work, quoting “yes we can!” from Obama’s acceptance speech, in response to any negativity. While the speech in question is one of the most powerful things I have ever heard, and the quote will go down in history, it had limited impact coming from the swaying mechie in front of me, God bless him. By the 10th repetition, it had lost all of it’s appeal. Another 45 minutes of “Back two inches… just two inches…” forward!… just two inches…” and I wanted to find a hotel for the night or even sleep in the car. It’s 1am.

Eventually, out of complete desperation I unpack the entire boot onto the ice-covered road, and pull out the jack. Ignoring all the protests from the mechanic and his mate, who was providing light on the subject by shining the light from his cell phone into the blackness of the wheel-well, I began to jack up the car. I had horse-race style commentary from the two of them… how the jack should be positioned under the car, and how we don’t even have to turn the wheel to get the chains on… etc. In a trice my white-knuckle grip on the crank had the car off the ground and minutes later the chain fitted. Repeat for the second wheel, during which time the cheerleaders all said their goodbyes and climbed the stairs to DD heaven.

So, 2 and a half hours after beginning the 15 minute job, and now pleasantly numb, I re-packed the car and began the macho drive up the treacherous hill.