Step right this way, ladies and gentleman . . .
After six hours in the car, no lunch (unless you count goldfish crackers and lemon cake), but a lot of beautiful scenery, we finally arrived at the base of the mountain and set off to find the cable car that would take us the rest of the way.
After wading though deep snow, we arrived in the cable car building and entered a room full of about 70 people , all allegedly waiting in line. There were two cable cars, each one arriving every 15 minutes or so, holding ten people apiece. We settled in for a long wait, made even longer by the fact that cutting in line is a cultural norm. After 20 minutes, ten more people had arrived, yet we were still the last in line. Another half an hour later, I had fought my way far enough ahead in the line to read the sign on the wall that said guests of the hotel had priority boarding. You should have seen the glares, but revenge was sweet.
We filed into the cable car. As it began its upward trajectory, the surrounding scenery vanished into a cloud of white mist and snow. Visibility was completely zero. Everyone became very quiet. The only sound was the grinding of the wheels on the wires as we headed for the top of the mountain. It was a long ride, evidently the longest cable car in Europe, and it took about 15 minutes. A Frenchman began quietly chatting in broken Romanian with the cable car operator about the avalanche conditions on the mountain. Today was evidently were at level 4, which is the second highest possible rating. The cable car operator drew on the fogged up glass with his finger, showing some of the safer lines and general hot spots for avalanches in the area. Incredibly, the skier seemed satisfied with the explanation and seemed determined to continue with his plan, despite the impending blizzard. I don't know what that says about Frenchman, extreme skiers, or extreme skiing Frenchman, but I had to resist the urge to give him my opinion on the matter.
Finally, the gears ground to a halt and we arrived at the resort. We walked out of the cable car building into complete whiteness. It was as if someone had drawn a sheet over my eyes. There was nothing but snow and a few very hazy shapes. To the left, a very tall hill of snow which we recognized as the ice hotel. Directly in front of us were a number of stakes on a line, marking the path. We began following the path and could gradually see the blurry outline of a building in the distance. Sights set on the resort, we began walking. I had the distinct feeling that it would be all too easy to become lost, to wander onto the frozen lake or over the edge of a cliff.
Fortunately we found our way.
In the next installment: praying in the ice church and a seven course ice dinner.
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