You're what?!

“So let me get this straight,” said the woman from work. “You’re leaving behind a British winter for a whole month – and going somewhere even colder?”

And just for a moment, I saw all that could have been. Sun on my face, azure skies, rolling surf. An African safari. A world cruise. Then I thought of what lies in wait – soaring peaks, magical wooded glades, pinch-yourself views looking down on the world. The fear-spiked adrenalin rush of a steep fall line. And I grinned in delight. For Marianne and I, there was never any question. The mountains win, hands down.

It’s been over a year in the making, this trip. It was Christmas 2009 when Stephen - brother-in-law and long time ski companion – confirmed his intention to decamp to Whistler from December 2010 to April 2011. And around that time, a lightbulb went off. Marianne and I had always planned to visit him, but what if we could cut ourselves a slice of the seasonnaire life by going for a whole month? Could it be done?

It could. A year of saving, sacrifices from both of us, countless extra hours at work for Marianne… it hasn’t always been easy. People tell us how lucky we are, and they’re right, of course. We don’t forget that for a moment. But we’ve also worked hard to make this happen. Come what may, we’re going to embrace it.

As I type, with seventeen hours to go until our flight leaves, the house is strewn with the detritus of departure. Cast-off clothes, lists, stray teabags. Somehow, we’ve fitted a lorryload of gear into three bags and two small rucksacks. Both of us are buzzing and jumpy, thoroughly overexcited. Can’t believe it’s nearly time.

I’ll aim to post to the blog most days. For your sakes I’ll try to avoid posts of the ‘Whoo-hoo! We skied. It was awesome’ variety. I’ll do my best to tell our story of a month in the mountains: ups, downs and everything in between.

Now, I guess, it’s time to attempt sleep. See you on the other side!