Wednesday, 14 January 2009

Ice grotto


I found the picture of the cable car amongst those taken by Paul, so I hope he won't mind if I put three of his up here. You may need to look closely but there is a cable car holding about 40 people packed like sardines swinging in the gap. If you look even closer you can see the lines leading up to the peak where the car enters the rock.

Once inside, the delights of the ice grotto await. Figures carved out of ice loom up out of the darkness, and everything you touch, walk on, look at, is ice. Fissures open up in the ceiling, cracks and holes loom up beyond the guide ropes and it is surprisingly dark. Sometimes the ceiling looked like quartz crystals glittering in the lamplight, at other points it looked and felt like glass. I'd been once before but because the glacier constantly moves - not that you'd notice, I assure you! - everything had changed. No creaks and groans as the ice shifted but perhaps that was because there were six people in there, all moving, talking, taking pictures. On my previous visit it was just dh and I, and we stood still and listened.
The ice goats were not life size, but easily three feet high.
Here is a picture of moi, poleing across a fairly flat section, anxious to get back in the sunlight and out of the cold. It's a tedious and exhausting business when the slope flattens out and the skier loses momentum, but it sure is good for the stomach muscles. Fit young things "skate" across the snow, of course, but yours truly usually manages to get her skis tangled up and judders off balance when trying it. I often think longer legs would help.
Memories of holidays are good, but everyday things are now taking up my time. I must promote my new book, work on the one I'm writing, and try and convince an agent to take me on. Yes, I'm trying that again. Lets hope I have more success this time. I had a review in the Hexham Courant just before I went on holiday and you can read it HERE. That reminds me that I must go Google myself and see if anymore have turned up. Newspapers don't always let you know that something is about to be published, and I'd hate to miss one.

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