Happy Valley (the name of the resort) is a gleaming winter wonderland. I spend an hour seated on the ski lift in among an assortment of neon-clad skiers and snowboarders. Some of them are incredibly young with an enviable confidence on the snow. As the seven year-olds whizz past me on the slopes I watch with admiration, even though this is an alien world to me. I'm not supposed to be here.
The sky is deep blue and the snow is brilliantly reflected in the blinding sunlight. I'm content just taking photos and soaking up the spectacular landscape.
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