Text and photographs by Nilo Klotz

From the age of four to fourteen, I was lucky enough to spend my winter holidays with my family in Alta Badia. Every year, during the Christmas and Carnival holidays, we would set off with our caravan to a campsite in San Cassiano. In the morning, it was always my job to go and get the fresh bread for breakfast. On the path to the shop, the frozen snow crunched under my boots, and the first rays of sunlight filtered through the treetops, making me squint. While some guests were still sleeping, others were already out in the biting cold, loading everything into their cars so as to be among the first on the slopes, and every now and then a squirrel would dart across my path. Back in the warmth, breakfast was crunchy bread, butter and chocolate spread, which I was only allowed when on holiday, and it was one of the moments I looked forward to most.

After this morning ritual, we'd head to the ski area and do two or three runs before I was handed over to the ski instructors. Sometimes, early in the morning, we'd manage to make the first ski tracks on the freshly groomed slopes, following the tracks left by the snowcats. In the afternoon, once the course was over, I could finally ski on my own. I could do what I wanted, tackling the bumps, weaving my way along enchanted tracks through the woods, or hurling myself downhill, imitating the champions I watched on television with my legs bent and my head down. In the final moments before everything shut down, when most skiers had already retreated to their huts, the snowy landscape often glowed with a golden light. Stopping for a moment, I could admire the snow crystals glistening in the sunlight on the pristine surface.

The last runs were often the most strenuous: by now my feet were cramped in the boots, and I dreamed of having a rest, peace and quiet, and a hot meal. After dinner, we would spend the evening playing cards, board games or reading books and later, when the lights all around us went out one by one, we'd crawl under the duvets and look out over the quiet campsite and the dark forest one last time before lowering the blinds.