In which I try not to talk about climbing on a climbing holiday
In which Mrs P and I drive… and drive…and drive.
In which we finally climb that snowy mountain
In which we finally head off to climb a snowy mountain, or so we thought.
In which we totally fail to climb a snowy mountain.
Our seemingly sisyphean task of crossing the Fern Pass into Austria is finally over as we arrive in Nassereith.
Even the pain of visiting an immensely expensive petrol station can be somewhat assuaged by the delightful café next door.
