Blizzard

On the second day of our ski trip in Hokkaido, we were hit by a massive snow storm bringing gusts of wind up and plunging temperatures down. All the way below minus twenty degrees.

I was skiing on beginner terrain with my daughter. We passed each other. Our eyes met for a half second. Maybe less. Then we accelerated, turned right and left, concentrating on finding the way downslope. We seemed lost, dazed, as if we relied more on memory than vision to locate the path. Alas, only the most intrepid skier, if not Yeti, would dare to continue in such cluttered condition.

Without hesitating, we cut short the mountain activity. The afternoon was better spent indoor, I thought. Perhaps a book to read with a cup of coffee. In another moment, I was brewing coffee.

Bringing with me a novel has always been my travel plan. This time, by coincidence, I had All the Light We Cannot See. This novel's title more or less sums up my experience with the snow storm.