Letter from Europe: Seasonal Angst

Upcoming in the next Vo2max:

“Now I just want the snow to melt so I can sit outside in the sun,” says Claudia, my local barber, in her thick local Austrian dialect. Just a few months earlier she was telling me how much she was looking forward to colder weather so she could get her skis out.

Such is life in countries where the contrast between seasons is so stark. Compared to New Zealand, the seasonal differences are huge. The average minimum temperature in July in Auckland is 8°C. In Salzburg, my nearest city, it is -6°C for the equivalent month, January. Average maximums in summer reach 24°C while Auckland hits 23°C.

I live in a small alpine village and the way people react to changing seasons is fascinating. If there hasn’t been snow when there should have been, people are tetchy, endlessly commenting on winters past when they were up to their armpits in powder.

One September we woke up to 5cm of snow on the ground. “Far too early, far too early,” said my landlord in an ominous tone.

By mid-November my bike was packed away after a glorious summer of cycling. During my last ride of 2009 I wondered how I would survive five months of winter without riding a bike. One week later, I didn’t care. Summer was history, all I wanted was snow.

This winter came relatively late but at the end of November when temperatures dropped to well below freezing and the peaks had a nice white covering, I travelled to a large sports shop to purchase my ski season pass for the surrounding region.

Bear in mind, this is one of many shops that sells the 500 Euro pass, and yet the queue was dozens long. There were plenty more people buying flash new equipment. “The season starts now,” said a friend I bumped into in the queue.

Europe’s 2009/10 winter was a cold one, making headlines worldwide, but for the most part people carried on as normal, enjoying the conditions when they could by skiing, snow shoe walking, cross country skiing, or sledding. There were also a few wry smiles and sniggers when discussing how a puny 10cm of snow brought the UK to a halt.

My cycling club put on ski touring trips instead of bunch rides and aside from a handful of hardnuts, roads were clear of cyclists.

And then suddenly in mid-March, the country’s collective mindset changed. “When will winter release its grip?” Asked newspapers. “I’m fed up with shovelling snow off the driveway,” said the landlord.

Right on cue, two weeks before Easter, the sun came out and temperatures switched from minus five to plus 10. This was merely a glimmer of spring yet joggers and cyclists emerged from hibernation and the shops were packed with folk buying new bikes and summer sports gear.

Ski slopes emptied and those who did take to the slopes were more interested in sipping coffee and schnapps in mountain huts rather than taking a final few runs before the pistes returned to green farming pastures.

As I write this I’m still in winter mode. I don’t know how I’ll survive until next November without skiing but probably by the next Letter from Europe, it will be a distant memory and life will be all about cycling.

“Isn’t this weather great?” Claudia the barber says. “Thank goodness summer is finally here!”