This was bringing a whole new meaning to the idea of cross-training. I wasn’t just cross, either, rattled, frustrated, you name it. My naïve assumption that, because I’d downhill skied in the past, I would take to cross-country skiing without much fuss was in tatters, and it was going to take longer than the day I had to get close to picking up the technique.
My teacher, Claude Frautschi, was an expert, and photographer Henry wasn’t bad either, having finished the 54km Birkebeiner XC race in Lillehammer two years ago. I was moving with all the grace of an inebriated daddy long legs.
We were in Saanenmöser, just up the valley from Gstaad, on prime cross-country track. I’d opted for skate skiing, the most popular with cyclists.
The key to…
