In the 1970s, long before comfortable cars and decent road networks, my parents would take me and my sister on holidays all over the UK, sometimes we’d get up before sunrise for a day trip to the south coast, other times we’d head further to places like Wales, Devon or Cornwall. Then in 1975 we headed for Austria, it was a journey we’d do every few years and an experience I never forgot.
In the back of a Bedford van, bolted to the floor panel, was an old Routemaster bus seat – minus its legs. This is where my sister and I would sit for the journey behind mum and dad – who were up front in the posh seats. There were no windows in the back and “clunk click – every trip” hadn’t quite translated to the back of this particular vehicle which didn’t have any seat belts fitted anyway!
I-spy books were our main travel companion, none of the in car movies, phone games or luxuries we have today. It was a very different era…
Dad would do most of the driving and Mum would navigate us through the numerous border checkpoints en-route. Here we would collect passport entry and exit stamps from all of the countries we travelled. The AA maps that mum would be reading were not always accurate, well that was the excuse we used when dad took a wrong turn! In any case, dad never quite believed mum’s instructions and always had one eye on the map and another on the road, it was kind of surprising we ever made it to our destination at all.
My sister and I would take turns either sleeping on the bus seat, or would climb over the handrail and snuggle up in between the bags and suitcases piled up in the back. It was exciting, everything from seeing the bright yellow headlights on French cars driving on the “wrong” side of the road, to hearing a different languages whenever we stopped.
Everything was new, including handling multiple currencies. I suppose this is where my love of travelling and road trips began. For me, it was pure adventure, I was pre teen and these were my first trips out of the country.
We were heading for Bludenz a small town in the State of Voralberg, a narrow strip of land at the western end of Austria directly below Germany and to the right hand side of Switzerland. This was where my mums best friend (who is also my Godmother) had decided to settle down and live, after meeting a local.
The snow covered Alps, with their deep blue lakes, raging rivers and vibrant green meadows were like nothing I’d seen back home, it was a magical and alien world where the language, customs and food were all so very different.
Staying with “locals” meant we became immersed in the traditions too. Mum would bring back ingredients and recipes in order to extend our memories long after we returned.
On top of travelling, I ultimately blame my parents for my blog writing nowadays. They insisted on me keeping a “scrap book”. I’d spend my holiday collecting interesting stuff, and then write about my experiences on our return. I’ve still got a number of them up in the loft. The blog is just a modern day version of what I did when I was a kid.
Apart from a gap during my early adulthood when I simply couldn’t afford it, I’ve been returning here most years, usually on a budget and often in the winter months for skiing. However, I also come here during the summer when I target this area for a stopover before pushing on further southwards into Italy or elsewhere in Europe.
The nearby valley of Montafon is something special, is not on the Hooray Henrys list of “go-to” ski resorts, which means lower prices! But in my view, its got some of the best skiing in Europe, it’s a place that with a little bit of knowledge and a guide, you can ski off piste all morning and not see a single soul, but shhh… let’s keep that to ourselves!
At the mouth of the Montafon Valley, is the start of the more popular, often busier and more expensive Arlberg valley. This is where Natty, Lauren and Sarah initially learnt to ski. But again, with a little local knowledge we kept the cost of holidays down, heading for the small villages of Dalaas, Wald and Stuben. These are on the western extreme of the Alberg ski area, and are great locations providing quick access to the huge ski area, including Lech, Zurs and St.Anton.
I almost always drive to this region, and before satnavs, I could do the trip without a map, as the cities and towns on the route to Bludenz were embedded in my memory… Calais – Brussels – Aachen – Cologne – Koblenz – Karlsruhe – Stuttgart – Ulm – Bregenz – Bludenz
It also became so much easier with autobahns, unlike in my parents day.
The past decade has seen me returning to the beautiful villages in the Montafon (Gaschurn, St Gallenkirch, Schruns and Gargellen) as opposed to the Arlberg. There has been a lot of investment over the past decade in linking the ski areas with gondolas.
Over the years I’ve shared my love of this region and holidays here with many, including friends, schoolmates and more recently, my sons rugby crowd at Trojans.
During three crazy years between 2015 and 2017 several families from the rugby club would head over during February half term for a ski holiday. The largest of these trips had 36 of us dotted about chalets in the Silvertta ski region, we’d meet up in groups to ski or take lessons during the day before heading for some serious Austrian style Apres Ski fun during the evenings.
The first of these trips happened when the boys were of similar age to my first experience here back in the 70s, so I’m guessing I was hoping some of the magic of the mountains would rub off on them too, as well as a love for skiing, or snowboarding as I now do.
These big trips unfortunately stopped in 2017 after I retreated into my shell a little for personal reasons. But it didn’t stop me taking my son for ski adventures on our own for a few years in 2018 and 19, which were a blast, it also meant we got to spend more time one of my Godmother’s sons and his kid who is a similar age to my son.
We were joined briefly in 2020 by Emma, (see her introduction in “about this blog”) before reverting back to the two of us in ‘21 when we went to the Aosta valley in Italy as a result of the draconian COVID rules in Austria. It was only the second time my son has skied outside of this region, he’s been coming here every year since he was ten weeks old and skiing since he was four.
Lawrence: Trust me!
Fool!
