Krakonosova Snidane

Overcast, grey day. Medium wind. Fine snow falling. The first 10km was a steady climb to the mountain ridge. From the top Harrachov was hidden, so it felt like I was in the middle of a white wilderness. The trail was completely deserted, and only occasionally would a lone skier cross my path, buff pulled over the face to keep the cold off nose and ears.

The last 5km was a steep descent, and all there was to do was crouch down low and let the momentum take me. By the time I reached the bottom I was frozen, as my clothes had been wet from the exertion of the uphill. My fingers started to feel like someone was stabbing knives under my nails, and it only subsided after returning to the lodge, about 20 minutes later. Lesson learnt: Stop thinking like an Australian and next time take the thicker gloves!