Hiking alone through deep snow in the mountains of the Alsace in late March is a novel experience and strangely exhilarating.
At a clearing, the unseen path through thick forest opens up to a ski run … and the weird thing is: I’m amazed to see people!
The fact that they’re whizzing past me at high velocity is almost secondary, yet the spectacle is temporarily mesmerising.
When I arrive back in Colmar, via mountain pass hairpin bend roads, it’s to sit at a bar (which has a full-length maroon-coloured velvet curtain at the entrance) to scoff a tarte flambee while necking a local ale.
I am an anonymous tourist with no name.
An Outside World 