Chapters (55)
- Cover
- Other Titles
- Dedication
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER THIRTY
- CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
- CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FORTY
- CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
- CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FIFTY
- CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Lech was once a tiny, rural huddle in the high mountains in the western tip of Austria, inaccessible in winter, barely accessible even in the mild seasons, and a family with seven cows were the rich folks. A river runs through it. The church was built in 1390, as a best guess. It is now a luxury ski resort. It’s still small. Population, about 1,700. It has retained its “character” as these things go. All the buildings are wood and stone. They all have pitched roofs. There are no high-rises. The tallest is five and a half stories high, the half being the space under the inverted V of the roof. It’s in a region called the Vorarlberg, which means in front of the Arlberg. There is no border, no distinction, absolutely no way to discern a difference between the two regions unless you’re a native and your ancestry goes back several centuries. It’s part of a giant ski region that crosses back and forth over that indecipherable border and connects to seven other towns, Oberlech, Zürs, Warth, Schröcken, Stuben, and St. Christoph, with populations between forty and a few hundred, and St. Anton, the biggest and best known of the lot, with a population of 2,700.
It is an unusual night.
Even in the coldest months, January and February, the temperature in the region stays between a very comfortable 35° and 26° Fahrenheit. In this age of excitable weather, a strange freezing finger had come down from the Arctic. It was about 5° below zero. Minus 20.5 Celsius.
Snow is falling. The colder it is, the lighter and finer the flakes. This is fine stuff indeed. Baccarat crystal. Comparable to the best of high Rocky Mountains powder. The flakes are invisible in the dark, but when they’re touched by light, it’s a slow falling glitter of white incandescence.
It is a promise that tomorrow’s skiing will be as good as it can get.
Of course, from time to time, not very often, but it does happen, depending on how much new snow there is, how it binds with what’s beneath it, how steep the slope is, even on whether a skier or snow-boarder enters into a section and how they do so, it breaks and slides and if the people caught in it are unlucky, the snow kills. From time to time. Not very often.
It is as perfect a night, as perfect a moment, as anyone could wish for.