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“That’s madness!” remarked the vegetable seller happily when I told her I was going skiing. A logical reaction since just a while back I was shopping on crutches after a hip surgery. Acquaintances from my sister’s circle were even more worried: “How old are you? In your eighties? I don’t think this is a wise plan. You’ll take a tumble and get injured.” My elder brother Andrew, aged 86, opted it was better not to tell a soul.

An Enduring Wish

For at least two decades I’d had a secret desire to undertake another skiing holiday. A concluding dose of sunny weather, frosty air and the exhilaration that follows making it down safely at the bottom of a snow-covered slope. My ability was limited, and hadn’t skied for decades, but that was irrelevant. As an octogenarian, I felt compelled to check if I was still capable. Should I succeed, why not ask my sibling Kate, part of our elderly ladies’ circle who encourage each other to participate in weekly runs? Then I remembered that, as teenagers, Andrew came along on my initial winter sports trip. That was 67 years ago, but my brother was skilled back then, so I invited him too. Penny, a friend, who is so absurdly young (claiming to be 67) that she doesn’t really count, was given permission to join and venture out with the elders and brush up on German. Each of us worked to enhance our fitness levels, but skiing was a distant memory for at least 40 years.

Picking the Location

Seefeld, in Tirol near Innsbruck, was our chosen destination, as it has many snowy pastimes – provided we endured our two-hour lesson on the initial day (admittedly, was the only skiing we intended to do) – and is happily without après-ski malarky. Families frequent it rather than partying youngsters, and is typically Austrian, with onion-domed churches and alpine-style homes. We stayed at the cozy, independently owned Hotel Helga and we tried various eateries nightly.

“It’s known as Kaiserwetter,” remarked our guide Janina when I remarked we were astonished by our fortune at waking each morning to unblemished heavens, sunshine and plenty of snow for the start of spring.

We feigned just to be excited, completely unafraid, as we took a bus to the winter sports zone. It was full of young people and families with winter gear and radiating energy. It seemed the young man assisting with our rental equipment looking doubtful at the challenge.

I felt certain I would tumble as soon as I moved. However, I stayed on my feet. None of us did.

Ulrich, our teacher, who had been pre-warned of our ages, smiled bravely as we walked up. We chatted rather noisily, grinning excessively, possibly aiming to put off the time when we had to step into the bindings. Privately, I believed I’d fall over the instant I began. However, I remained upright. None of us did. Ulrich remained calm, giving us enough time at every part of the tutorial to gain in confidence.

Today’s Ski Technology

Today’s skis are far simpler to handle, I realized – more compact, lighter weight with curved tips – than the unwieldy, lengthy boards from my memories of the 1960s that always made me fall off the ski lift. We understood we wouldn’t be permitted on a lift of any sort, so expected to painstakingly climb the slope and descend, tumbling during the descent. It worked like that in the fifties. However, we found a fantastic contemporary contraption, a moving walkway, or automated track, that transported us easily to the top of the gentle beginners’ slope, which was filled with brave kids. We were the only adults.

Once the lesson ended, we remained upright throughout, had each executed reasonable wedge turns and even a version of side-by-side turns. We were euphoric. “That was absolutely incredible!” said Andrew, who tends to understate.

Additional Adventures

Might we have endured a entire week of winter sports? Possibly, but the diverse pursuits found in the area was more attractive. There were hikes around various lakes, buses giving us access to ridiculously picturesque villages, and the “cold-weather trek to Hämmermoosalm, 4.6km (and sled back down)”, as the guidebook briefly mentioned.

Having watched the Winter Olympics, my sister and I knew all about sledding. One sprints behind, propelling the sled, then leap on and hurtle down on your belly at speeds rivalling a Formula One car. Janina provided comfort. Nothing to worry about: we’d sit on the sled and direct it with our boots. But we did worry. Andrew decided it wasn’t for him but the rest of us continued.

A man in a scarlet onesie zoomed past yelling back related to Kate.

When I was twelve it had been tiring pulling our family’s DIY toboggan up a snowy incline in the rural area in our wintry youth, and as a senior it felt draining pulling a somewhat lighter sled ascending in oxygen-depleted air (Hämmermoosalm, a customary high-altitude retreat, is at 1,410 meters) for almost 5 kilometers. I fell behind, grumbling under my breath about being too old for this. {The glühwein and Gulaschsuppe|The mulled wine and goulash soup|The warm