The Swiss Alps On Skis And Off A Blizzard Of Bad Luck, And Then Came Word: The Slopes Might Be Bare Still, There Was Fun To Be Had - And Even Some Skiing

The pilot of the Icelandair DC-8 just wasn't going to let well enough alone, and so, high above Philadelphia, at 10:50 on a Wednesday night, his confident, soothing voice oozed through the severely cramped economy class section:

"Down there on your left you see Philadelphia," he informed the Europe- bound passengers, "and ahead are the lights of the city of New York."

Certainly, this information on our whereabouts was innocuous enough. It's just that my son, Tim, and I were now back at square one, flying over the city we'd departed 14 hours earlier on a package ski trip to the Swiss Alps. We'd picked up a friend in South Jersey, driven 2 1/2 hours to the Baltimore- Washington International Airport, waited five hours for a late flight that was bound for Luxembourg via Reykjavik, Iceland, and then flown to Orlando - that's right, folks, Orlando, Florida - to pick up more passengers.

Although I felt disappointed for my 18-year-old son, who was making his first trip abroad and was beside me at the window groaning at the sight of Philadelphia, I found myself taking it all in stride.

This trip had been jinxed from the start.

First, the dollar kept falling in value against many European currencies, including the Swiss franc, which was now nearing equality at 1.3 to the

dollar. (Two years earlier, it had been 2.1 to the dollar.) This meant not only that the package would increase in price, but also that restaurants and general travel costs in Switzerland would be much higher.

But the truly prophetic moment came a few weeks before departure, when I dislocated and fractured a shoulder while skiing in Vermont - an injury that

put me out for the season. The immediate question: Should we cancel Switzerland?

The answer: No. The cancellation penalty for the inexpensive package we'd purchased (air fare, bed-and-breakfast hotel and rental car for a week for $550) was more than one-third of the cost of the trip, and I did not want to disappoint Tim. The trip was a belated high school graduation present. He could ski and probably learn a few tricks from Bert, the friend and expert skier who was accompanying us. I'd wander the Alpine peaks and valleys and find out what a nonskier could do on a Swiss ski package.