On the night from Thursday to Friday disaster struck. Heavy rain washed away all the snow in my beloved Thredbo. On Friday morning I was in shock at the sight of Friday Flat, our beginner area and the only part of the mountain that would be open that day. My home looked wrecked.
The Gunbarrel chairlift looked spooky and empty without its chairs going up and down. The place where all the kids meet looked sad with little rivers running under and on top of the snow. And there I stood with all my colleagues, wrapped in raincoats, staring in the distance looking for kids to come.
The next day it’s snowing. It’s a snow downpour that lasts the whole day. Lifts are opening and the groomers work their ass off. It continues on Sunday and I am on my skis again. As I fly down the slopes I know it. My home has been restored.