It was with trepidation and excitement that made up the beginning of the second snow trip to Perisher in Jindabyne. The sky was dark in the early hours of the morning, the air had a wintry bite, and all the houses were asleep.

To start the trip, it was customary to grab a coffee on the way, with that good, old-fashioned Macca’s drive thru. We ordered one coffee and one chai; the cappuccino being horribly burned but the chai was delicious. This was just the start of a series of unfortunate events to plague us along the road. Reader discretion advised.

The highway began to slowly glow with cars beginning their early morning commute. After the taste of disappointment in the coffee, we stopped at the twin servos for a second round of hot beverages. The coffee had improved this time round, but my tea that I ordered, tasted like dirty dish water.

The road stretched on. During that time, I boasted about never getting travel sick in the front seat, which in turned jinxed myself, at first becoming nauseous and then sick to my stomach. Luckily the Macca’s bag came in handy though not by much, catching as much of dignity as it possibly could. We stopped at another servo and let’s just say the bag did not hold, leaving a mess on the concrete. Rushing to the bathroom I had change my clothes, my shoes, and clean my friend’s car which thankfully I had managed to save by using myself as a shield (shivers).

After being sufficiently refreshened and restored, we hit the road again, the very first haze of dawn had begun to kiss the sky, only to realise 10 minutes later…I left my phone in the service station bathroom. A call back to the servo confirmed it, there it was sitting on top of the toilet paper holder, it’s metallic gleam seemed to glare at me as I sheepishly pick it up. Once we were back on the road the clouds had meandered across the horizon outlined by the sun, soon revealing a pale blue sky. Thankfully after the all the misadventures of two failed hot drinks, a road chunder, and a lost phone, everything else went smoothly in the end. We arrived at our beautiful lakefront Airbnb where the water glistened beath the midday sun and carried that distant assurance of alpine air.

I forgot just how much effort it takes to ski. Perisher welcomed us with its familiar blend/mixture of beauty and ruggedness. The air was cold, and the trees were like slender fingers poking through the snow. The white slopes had an air of tranquilly to them in the distance, coloured white in powder and innocence, yet the instant my skis were clipped, the sense of tranquillity died.

All the runs were trials of balance and determination. There were many falls on the icy terrain, days where it was hard work to get back up again, and the sweat had a way of finding its way despite the cold. And yet there is something thrilling about it every time, the buzz of skiing down slopes, the way the snow sprays over unsuspecting victims, followed by the sounds of laughter. The runs can instil fear but also be fun too.

There was one run that became a favourite to visit for its hot chocolate. A little shack nestled on the side near a chairlift would serve the best chocolatey beverage topped with chocolate whipped cream, a wafer, and the all-important chocolate freckle!

Once the sun started to sink below the mountains, my muscles burned, my pants damp (from snow, people), and my cheeks were sore from smiling.

The nights in Jindabyne held a special kind of magic. We would gather around the fire, wrapped in blankets, laughing over epic falls and thrilling jumps, (in my case, only falls), mixing with the sound of crackling flames and soft ripples of the lake.

The lake sat just beyond the orange glow from the campfire – calm, pitch-black, and serene in its own silence. Above, the stars were spread in a vast array of silvery spots, and the air was scented with wood smoke and crisp snow.

Amongst the snow, the exertion, the early morning rises, there is still a type of delight that persists.