St Moritz: Olympia Bob Run

Horseshoe Bend on the Olympia Bob Run

Today was our last day in St Moritz, and clearly time does fly when you are on holiday. We only booked a week this year but we also had two nights in the Schweizerhaus Hotel in Maloja, and that is also in the Upper Engadine Valley. This year but then we took our time getting to St M. with three more nights on the way, a holiday on the way to our holiday. It has been a wonderful easing off of the tensions. The trip home will be a two overnight stop affair, as opposed to the five nights on the way here. 

Today we had an enjoyable day together sharing some of the things that we like to do as a regular habit whilst staying in this most delightful of winter sports towns. Having had a touch of the wide awakes in the middle of the night, when I don’t ever fight it but simply read until I feel sleepy again, I then did not wake as early as usual for me and Steve was up and dressed before me, which is not usual at all.

We had coffee and watched the latest news before setting off to the Olympia Bob Run, where we wanted to see some of the Swiss Championships that were the special event for today. First event there was the women and junior skeleton, then the two woman bob championships and the two men’s event also. The skeleton event is something to behold isn’t it? Hurtling down the bob run head first? That takes some serious bottle. The two woman bob is also something quite amazing, because those bobs are really heavy things and after watching the effort going into just getting the bob in place at the start, I personally find it a pretty incredible, challenging thing for women to do because of the strength it obviously requires and I say that as a big, big fan.

                                                           The Cresta Run 

Just across the road from the Olympia Bob Run is the age old institution, the Cresta Run. If you have ever walked down the footpaths both sides of these courses you might, like me come to the conclusion that the Olympia bob run is a far more challenging course. Horseshoe Bend trumps Shuttlecock for sure.

Ice sculptures outside the Kulm Hotel

My own husband Stephen had the Cresta run on his bucket list yonks years ago, when we were first together and he did give it a try several times on winter holidays. The Cresta Run is a terribly British establishment and I do admire it in a lot of ways. Steve has had great fun doing his runs down that course but beginners are only allowed to go from the Junction Start Box in front of the main building and not from the Top Start. Add to that, that first timers must rake all the way down the first straight with the nasty looking heavy metal rakes fitted to the toe of the official shoes for the purpose to make sure that they do not start too fast on their first run.

 Watching the big screen above Horse Shoe

Some years ago, I was waiting for Steve to have his run at one of the watching stations, a little wooden tower further down, when a frightfully posh English gentleman engaged me in conversation. When I told him I was waiting for my husband to start his descent he said “Oh you must be so terribly proud of him”. He was not impressed when I said I thought it was a big boy’s fun fair ride and that my husband was just having the time of his life. It was the man’s attitude that got my back up and the truth is that in fact I do often boast about Steve doing the Cresta Run. He is always up for a challenge and has no nerves what so ever and in fact on one of those early runs he actually put his hand up to wave as he passed me whilst I took his photo. We have a plan of the whole Cresta course in a frame at home.

The Cresta Run is very strictly run in a frightfully old fashioned British way. It is in fact the ‘Muirfield Golf Club’ of St Moritz, in that it is a men only skeleton run. I cannot imagine how they have kept it that way for so long in the light of fact that ‘Ladies’ are now competing on the Olympic Bob Run just the other side of the road and that looks terrifying in comparison. You go Girls!

Beginners to the Crest run are expected to slide down in between 65 and 75 seconds. All those years ago on one of his runs, Steve recorded 54 seconds something or other and he was pretty pleased about that. One strike off that bucket list.

In the afternoon we drove to the Morteratsch Hotel that in the first place, many years ago was built right at the tip of the tongue of the Morteratsch Glacier. If you step inside the building, there is a large chart showing how terrifyingly far the Glacier has receded over last century or more. It is now quite a long but beautiful walk to get any where near the glacier. I believe it drains into the river Inn and the Danube and on into the Black Sea from what I have read.

Then it was back to our best ever apartment with the best ever equipped kitchen looking right on the lake, to start packing. We had a memorable stay and could not have been more comfortable and a fabulous position literally over the road from the St Moritzersee. We always bring our own Nativity with us that packs away into its own stable building and into a large carrier bag ready to bring out again next Christmas.

                                                Our Traveling Nativity Scene

St Moritz: Swimming with the Stars at Ovaverva

                                                      Brett 'The Doc' Sutton

Steve only skied for a couple of hours first thing this morning, leaving me to faff about in the apartment and write up my diary log page about the ‘Glass Lake’ yesterday. He got back early-ish having brought his ski boots down from the slopes because he would not be using them again this holiday. 

We had a little late breakfast and coffee before wandering around to a few shops for a couple of small gifts to take home and then strode down to feed the ducks at the edge of the lake with our table scraps which has become a daily part of our routine here.

Later we went for our last swim at the Ovaverva centre that turned out to be an especially memorable session. The reason for that, was because in the next lane were 2012 Olympic Champion Nicola Sprig, and also 2015, 2016 Ironman World Champion at Kona, Hawaii, Daniela Ryf, who were being coached by none other than Brett ‘The Doc’ Sutton. 

We had to laugh because after he had ended the session with these superstars, he bowled along to another lane and gave a guy swimming there a lecture because he wasn’t using his paddles correctly! Another incurable coach.

After our swim, we walked along to the outside spa pool where the temperature is like bathwater or maybe hotter, to massage our muscles on some of the many, many jets around what must be the world’s biggest hot tub; there are dozens of different treatment jets at stations around the edge and in the middle. We knew the ones that we wanted to use and were surprised to see Sutton come into the spa pool to join his family between coaching sessions. 

Later in the changing room Steve then had the pleasure of a chat with the famous Australian coach. During their chat, it came to light that we had been around at the same time, in our early days that he mentioned when bringing Ben Bright to the UK. Steve and I and a young James Clarke, who Steve coached at that time when he first got into triathlon, all did the Ironbridge Half Ironman that year. We saw young Ben Bright at a number of races as a young athlete, years before he became Head Coach for British Triathlon.

I had told Steve that I would see him in the café upstairs after I had showered, pulled my clothes on and titivated my hair and face. When he joined me he was thrilled at having had that nice chat with Brett Sutton.

I was sitting reading magazines about the area, when he arrived and having dumped his backpack with me, he went off to buy us both a coffee. It must have been all the excitement, because he let the lady at the counter talk him into a ‘Special local coffee’ for me. Now I’m not going to say that it was both strong AND heavily alcoholic but it took me ages to drink; it was in a large glass mug that I could hardly lift. Steve said it was a celebration treat.

St Moritz: The Glass Lake

Lady Nature, always a tricky Miss, dared on one of the mild days, to actually rain here for a while, transforming the lake in front of our apartment window from a delightful snow clad frozen plateau, into the glassy vista of the largest skating rink in the memory of the winter wonderland that is St Moritz. It is also a health spa. The earliest recorded visit for a winter snow holiday was in winter of 1864-1865 at the Kulm Hotel apparently.

 

My husband Steve and I have been going away for winter sports holidays as long as we have been together and that is just a few days short of forty years. During those holidays, the people that we met at hotels and apartments had been talking about their fears that the snow holidays were in danger of coming to an end. We have seen series upon series of photographs showing how far the glaciers have receded. 

It may seem that global warming is something that has not affected the average person in the UK, many of whom think that such talk is nonsense, since we still have some pretty awful weather in the winter and our summers don’t seem to have got warmer. They have though haven’t they? We have new rare breeds of birds and butterflies arriving every year now.

From our own standpoint, Steve and I can say that ‘The White Stuff’ has been creeping further and further back up the mountains. In our early days of visiting the Engadine Valley in Switzerland were had to take snow chains to get there before Christmas since it involved a pass climb that was sure to have heavy snow on it, at least at the top, and during a few work trips we have taken the odd weekend here and there to nip to a ski resort as early as November and found plenty of snow.

 

Last year, Christmas in St Moritz was completely clear of snow when we arrived, the lake had not even frozen over although it did freeze during that week but the only skiing was on artificial snow runs. Neither of us skied that year and snow did not arrive until the Saturday morning as we left for home after a two week stay. This Christmas again there was no problem getting over the sunny Julier Pass but there was plenty of snow on the slopes for the ski fans. Steve has skied most days during this holiday.

We always have a marvelous time here because there is so much to keep us happy; There is the previously spoken of Ovaverva, the best swim complex I have seen, that helps keep our training going, we have been able to run, since paths are clear of snow around the St Moritzersee which is now a fabulous glass lake that is swarming with skaters. Every morning huge skating paths are cleared and smoothed for the many people of all ages with and without hockey sticks tearing around at the speed of light or beginners trying skates on for the first time.

It is strange that one feels much happier walking on the frozen lake when it is covered in snow and the community work force have prepared fine wide walking paths. This week it is astonishing to look into the frozen water where you can see how very thick the ice is. 

It is also a little alarming to some visitors to see the massive cracks that appear and immediately seal up leaving icy scars that are so beautifully created as natural modern art. That is one reason the skating paths are cleared daily, because each of those massive cracks can form a ridge on the surface. The sounds are equally fascinating as the lake moans and sings and belches constantly like an ethereal kind of percussion practice that never stops. 

Yesterday afternoon we took our walk around the lake gazing at the fantastic patterns in the frozen water and listening to the weird, sad, mournful, ghostly animal sounds.

We are not night birds and do not go out to socialize of an evening. Steve cooks our dinner, for which he shops daily as he does at home. We may read our books, listen to music or watch some TV, our viewing chosen from the 219 available channels, where there is always some winter sport, biathlon, skiing, ski jumping or an ice gala. These ice shows will hold all those stars who have finished competing in major events and are now earning a living with their skills, as it the Art on Ice show that is superb. This week we twice watched Stèphane Lambiel and Evgeni Plushenko, along with 2014 Olympic medal winners, ice dancers Meryl Davis and Charlie White from the USA skate to the singing and performance of Jessie J. who is looking stunning and the Jacksons, all in one show! The most super entertaining evenings for our tastes anyway.

Tomorrow is our last full day here and we will be going to the Bob Run where there will be racing. We are both big fans of all the winter sports and have been watching the ice hockey on TV in the evening. 

In January they will be building grand stands on the lake ready for the White Turf horse racing meeting. We have also loved watching the polo in other years. There is always something to entertain or to do, though thankfully Steve has given up on taking a few slides down the Cresta Run as he used to but that has now got rather expensive. 

Trojan Horse of St Moritz

The Trojan Horse with the Kulm Hotel in the background

From most of the windows of the delightful apartment we chose for our thirty fifth visit to this magical winter sports resort town in Switzerland, we can see the latest artistic addition to the scenery. I suspect that locally it is something that we Brits would call a Marmite thing; you either love it or hate it.

It is a massive metal painted Trojan Horse, forty six feet high, sixty six feet long, created by Engadine artist Curdin Guler who is said to be a passionate horse lover. I am a horse lover also and used to love to ride when I was a lot younger than I am now.

At the risk of sounding like the child who was the only one to see that the ‘Kings New Clothes’ were a just a great big con; it is a thing of special interest but does not possess the natural perfect beauty of a race horse. Don’t get me wrong though, because I do like it and would prefer it not to be pushed to one side of the lake as it is presently, stuffed clumsily by the walking path around the breathtaking St Moritzersee. I would say that the residents of the region are equally split in admiration or dislike as is often the case. The rectal staircase is hardly inviting and the form is much more cart horse than thoroughbred the gaudy paintwork more carousel than dressage.

 

All that shows yet again my contrary nature because I have to smile each time I see it and do greatly admire the mind behind the form. It is an outrageous adventure and I love it.

The idea to build the horse was it seems the brainchild of the General Manager of the Kulm Hotel and Silvio Martin Staub, President of the St Moritz Racing Association.

The Trojan Horse can be hired for social occasions for up to ten revelers for three hours and I checked the price which is 1250 CHF and could include Fondue but not the Champagne!

The Trojan Horse of St Moritz

A Trojan horse appeared

from thin air

and I wondered

Who had put him there

Was he ridden or steered

Or why for that matter

To advertise a race meeting

How much do the locals care

Suspecting he is quite endeared

Another art work

In an arty town

With their visitors to share

His mane neatly sheared

The tail docked

Smoothly groomed

Shingle set in place with flair

With reflective silver smeared

Great crested neck

Overstatedly proud

Tiny people see studied glare

Artistic mind a little weird

Placed rear entrance

Stairs at natures exit

Dare to compare

Inviting host a window cleared

Cocktails for two

Or six or eight

Party animal metallic stare

A giant never to be feared

See beauty here

Or fairground crude

Heart waits for his mare

The best of both worlds: Keeping the Peace

We all, if we are truthful like the best of both worlds. We all like the idea of living in peace but actually what it would take for that to happen is for all the people who we do not agree with to drop their own opinions and beliefs and take up our views and beliefs instead. Ain’t gonna happen is it.

All we can do individually is try to live our own lives without upsetting others if we can possibly help it. The older I get the more I see the truth in that.

I was brought up very strictly; my dad played the cornet in the Salvation Army band, he was a very peaceful man and had given that life up to marry my mother who had also been strictly brought up within Church of England ideals. However she was a strong personality and hot tempered to boot and it was with that hot temper that my brother and I were kept in order. If we acted against her rule, we would get a sharp slap around the back of the head to bring us back into line and sometimes she would not stop at that.

                               The splendid Ovaverva swimming complex St Moritz

These days that would be called abuse, yet I still know that in that harsh way I still came to terms with the idea that one cannot always have one own way and that you should think before you act, think before you say something unpleasant, even if you have been hurt first. The failing with my mother’s method was, that I came to know that shouting at somebody, will in most cases result in them shouting back and that does nothing but raise the blood pressure.

There are a lot of people in this world who have not realised this. There are a lot of people who still strike out with ugly words. Some time ago I thought it might be better to meet the ugly words or the shouting with a broad smile. Sometimes it works and sometimes it prompts a second round of quick fire rudeness.

For me now, with those I love in particular, I try my hardest to keep the peace, very often by keeping my opinions to myself. My husband Steve and I do quite well with this because we both want the other partner to be happy, so we do not say unkind things to each other. We do discuss things thoroughly into the tiniest detail of what we are thinking by saying what we would prefer a thing to be rather than snap at each other. I know that he prefers me to stay out of the kitchen whilst he is cooking. He knows that I don’t like it if he looks over my shoulder as I write. I do as he says as far as I can when he is coaching, then I am the athlete taking advice, that is then only sensible because he knows my ability better than I do actually as has been proved right often. I am the entertainment manager of the house and select theatre and cinema visits that he accepts almost without question because went I have bowed to him on that issue it has not worked out well. He does not complain about the time I spend writing and I don’t complain that he doesn’t want to do gardening.

 Two rather special visiting swimmers

On our visit to the stunning Ovaverva in St Moritz, which is without doubt the best pool complex I have ever been to, we stood in our swimwear and looked carefully at the pool set out in lanes to see which lane we should get into, to suit our training plan. We though the outside lane looked most promising. There were three people all doing front crawl where as other lanes had some breast stroke, some back stroke and some fly.

We sat on the side for a while to watch the lane before getting in. There were two men and one woman with a snorkel. One man was swimming up and down on one side of the lane and the other two were trying to swim anti clockwise using both side of the lane. Steve moved to sitting on the starting block and I stood close by preparing to get in. The woman stopped at the end and spoke to Steve agreeing that it was hard swimming around the one guy wanting to keep half a lane to himself. She laughed and said to Steve “I remember you; you are the English people who swam the wrong way round last year”. Last year she had got in with us and when we stopped at the end of a 200 mtr swim she said that we were swimming the wrong way round and Steve had pointed out that she got in with us after we had started our set and there were not direction notices in place. She argued for a while and then got out and complained to the life guard, who said that there were two of us anyway so why not swim with them. She got back in and we all had a good swim.

Remembering that time from last year and seeing that there was room in the next lane with another woman swimming backstroke she changed lanes. Shortly after that the other man gave up and got out of the pool.

Steve turned to me and said “You get in and see if you can sort him out Daf”. The other man was still firmly holding his half of the lane. He was swimming just a little bit slower than me. I swam anti clockwise until I got to his feet and then stayed there. As we approached the end I knew that he would turn straight towards me so at that point I moved right to the wall side to give him room to turn. My peaceful method worked because at the second time we got to that point he moved over and joined the anti clockwise method. Steve then got in and we started fitting in our set of 200’s in with the other guy and we all had a good swim with no arguments and no rude remarks. We had in fact given up on our preferred clockwise swim, that upset snorkel lady last year and he gave up on keeping the lane to himself. Peace reigned.

Problems can be worked out one way or another but for preference without shouting and without hard feelings and we all left smiling.

Separate for every need

We went to church on Christmas day, attending the closest church to our apartment.  In the St Moritz area you can usually find a service in whatever language you prefer of those spoken in Switzerland plus English. There were two services at this church in the evening, one a 16.00 in Italian and 18.00 in Portuguese! We went to the four o’clock service. The bells had stopped by the time we walked there and the church was packed out so we had to stand at the side of the back.

Another example of how rude some people can be was that close to where we were standing, there was a family in the second from the back pew. There was a mother, a father and two children, an older girl and a younger handicapped girl. As time went on, the handicapped child started to make noises, sometimes trying to sing along but sometimes the noises were just noises. Most people ignored the child who was happy enough with her parents but she would stand now and again and move about and the parents tried their best with her but that was not good enough for a man sitting in front of them who turned scornfully several times before actually complaining to them. Even though I was not close enough to hear, and anyway have little in the way on Italian, it was obvious that he had said something like “If you cannot keep her quiet why don’t you take her out”. That was what her father did. Is it not astonishing just how very unkind some people can be.

Walking the Roseg Valley

It was one of those days with a clear sky of the deepest blue and when Steve decided the he was not going to ski and asked me what I fancied doing. I didn’t have a moment of hesitation before saying it looked like the day to walk the Roseg valley right up to the restaurant at the foot of the Roseg Gletscher and taking some food to feed the birds and get some pretty photos along the way.

 

It is quite a long walk, just short of ten miles there and back and we have done it lots of time before and always loved every moment; what’s not to love about it because it is so peaceful and far away from traffic, if you don’t count horse drawn vehicles.

 

Steve got his back pack ready making sure that he had the smaller pair of the two sets of binoculars that we had brought with us. He also put the camera battery on charge for a while whilst we had a bit of breakfast, which is not something we do at home but both agreed that this walk should be undertaken with a bit of fuel inside us. He cut up some bread into tiny cubes and some cheese rind too and put them in a bag for bird feed, adding some snack food for us both and a small bottle of water. I made sure that I had a notebook and pen, distance sunglasses, reading glasses and lip salve.

We wanted to get going whilst it was still early enough to be quiet and have less people about. We drove to Pontresina Station to park the car before setting off from there on the path leading into the Roseg Tal. It was cold enough since we were in shadow and would be until the sun moved on a ways, but clear and we were wrapped in suitably warm, comfortable clothes and sensible footwear.

It’s a wonder we don’t fall over as we walk, with both of us searching the mountain sides for signs of wild life. There are usually deer of various sorts to be seen if you have a sharp eye and we have only walked a couple of miles when we saw a group of Chamois high up on one side of the mountain grazing. That brought us to a halt as binoculars and the camera were pulled out of the back pack. We took several photos and looked through them to make sure that they were OK before moving on up the valley.

The absolute stillness is a sheer joy to people used to driving a truck in heavy traffic at home. We hardly saw another soul on the outward section of this favourite walk. We stopped several times to try to get some shots of the tiny birds flitting about that were mostly tits of various kinds. We did see a couple of woodpeckers and heard another busy at work drilling but were not quick enough to capture them on camera. I had stood with my hand full of food a number of times but although some birds looked curious, none were brave enough to fly to my hand for the treat. I did that each time until my fingers were nigh on frozen, then just left the food for them rather than tease the tiny creatures.

About a mile before the end of the trail we came to a suitable spot and again I took my glove off and held a handful on bread and cheese out and stood very still with Steve a little way to one side, ready to catch a little mite who was brave enough to come to my hand. He took a whole bunch of photos where he had just missed the fleeting visit of one bird or another and just got a photo of a hand full of breadcrumbs. Patience was rewards and in the end we got a few of the shots we were hoping for.

There was a Spotted Nutcracker but even though he came quite close he wasn’t as brave as the smaller birds and in the end I put some food on a wooden bar and he came along and ate from that instead, very close but he did not want to trust me to come as near as I wanted him to.

We had a hot drink when we got to the Hotel Restaurant Roseg Gletscher and stayed long enough to warm up before starting back again. Inside the restaurant reminded me of a line from the Rocky Horror Show…. “It’s like a hunting lodge for rich weirdos”, and it truly is; there are trophy sets of horns everywhere, maybe hundreds all very artistically displayed. Wherever you look there are stuffed animals and birds and a group of six fox skins hanging centrally. The metal chandeliers are all laden with horns and there are pretty snow hares sitting stilled by taxidermy and everything that is native to the region on every ledge in every direction.

We walked the downhill section on the way back much faster that the outward leg because we had our photos and now the stillness was shattered but lots of walkers, some mountain bikers and of course the joyfully pretty sight of horses pulling visitors who are unwilling to walk very far under their own steam in coaches. The horses came as troikas or pairs and are a lovely site for horse lovers like us.

We had the sun on our backs and gradually cast off our hats, then our gloves and then the coats came undone as the sun got higher and we were tired enough by the time we got back to the car.