Ski trips from Munich: Mayrhofen
A typical ski day for a Münchner starts with a painfully early wake up. Well before dawn, you toss on your ski clothes and haul your gear to the ski bus, or if you’re lucky, the car. Grab some coffee and a pretzel from your nearest bakery (the only thing open at this predawn hour) and hit the road.
About an hour into the drive you hit Austria, and the sun starts to come up. A stop at the large gas station at the border is often a must, so you can purchase a sticker to put on your car that lets you drive on the Austrian highways (we were once with friends who forgot to buy such a sticker, and the fine was a hefty one).
Sometime between 1 and 3 hours after your departure, you arrive at your ski resort of choice. This past weekend it happened to be Mayrhofen for us, in 3 hours due to traffic and bad weather. And then it’s time to put on those horrible boots.
Saturday was the stormiest ski day I think I’ve ever had, with the low point coming when we were some of the last skiers loaded on a lift that then had to be shut down due to high winds. We were stuck on a bobbing, stopped-more-than-it-was-moving chair lift for half an hour, after which we got to ski down in high winds and white-outs.
For some reason I have started this story with all the worst parts. You’d get the impression that I had a dreadful weekend, when in fact it was quite the opposite. Despite all its bothersome bits, skiing is awfully wonderful. I can’t think of a place on earth that holds more charm for me than a snowy Alp.
The ski area itself was quite agreeable – plenty of blue slopes with good lifts for me, plenty of off-piste powder for the more advanced among us.
In Mayrhofen we found some pleasant last-minute rooms (via the tourist info office) at Hotel Ländenhof. The charming bartender convinced us to have dinner at the hotel’s restaurant, and we were not disappointed (this is pretty high praise from me, as I often find Tyrollean food disappointing).
As a bit of an aside, this is what beds in Austrian hotels often look like: big square squishy pillows, two single mattresses shoved together, and no top sheets or blankets – just giant duvets which were surely designed for Arctic temperatures, because they make me sweat even on the coldest Austrian winter’s night. But that’s ok, because the next day I get to go out and play in the snow again.
