Day 96 - Frozen Lake Reset in Austria

Day 96 felt like a strange mix of calm and chaos.

The kids had another sleepover at our Austrian friends’ place, so the house was quiet when I woke up. No immediate negotiations. No breakfast debates. Just coffee and a clear head. I got straight into some work while Kia stayed in bed for a well deserved sleep in, not rolling out until around 7:30. When she did, she was sharp and focused, keen to use the quiet window to keep chipping away at our Italy planning.

Sicily and mainland Italy are getting closer now, which means the budgeting is getting more real. We’ve roughly mapped out accommodation costs, transport ideas, and food estimates, but nothing is locked in yet. It still feels like a moving puzzle. We know we need space. Vietnam taught us that small and compact doesn’t work for us. The kids need room to move. We need air and light and easy access to the outside world. So we’re balancing budget with breathing room.

Around 10:30 I realised I needed to stop half working and just finish it properly. I pushed through until about 1:30 while Kia kept refining numbers and pulled together some lunch. Just as I shut the laptop, the front door opened and the kids rolled in.

They were cooked.

Tired. Hungry. Emotionally thin. And within minutes they were asking about another sleepover. Kia and I both said no. That was enough to tip them over. Emmett and Maddie both had huge meltdowns. Not small grumbles. Full blown exhaustion explosions.

We calmed them down, gave them some space, and let everyone decompress. Travel is incredible, but it is also relentless. Late nights, new environments, stimulation all the time. Even the good stuff drains them.

By mid afternoon we decided a change of scenery might help, so we jumped in the car and drove out past Grünau im Almtal to the large alpine lake that freezes over in winter, Almsee.

Almsee sits at the northern edge of the Totes Gebirge mountains and is known for its crystal clear water in summer and its thick frozen surface in deep winter. It is not a commercial, built up tourist lake. It feels raw and alpine. Pine trees line the edges and steep mountains rise straight up behind it. In winter, when conditions are right, large sections freeze solid.

The drive out there was beautiful. Snow covered pine forests the whole way. Quiet roads. That still winter light that makes everything look clean and sharp.

When we first drove past, about half the lake was still frozen. On the way back we pulled over so the kids could get a closer look. They stepped cautiously out onto the ice, probably ten to fifteen metres from the shoreline. Poking it with a stick first. Testing it. Watching for cracks.

We threw plenty of rocks onto the surface and none of them punched through. The ice barely reacted. Still, we kept them close. There is something primal about standing on a frozen lake. You feel how solid it is, but you also know what sits underneath.

It shifted their mood. The fresh air, the adventure, the simple act of doing something different. No screens. No arguments. Just cold air and frozen water.

On the way home we stopped at Billa to grab dinner supplies, then headed back to the apartment. Simple dinner. Early night. No pushing bedtime.

They needed sleep more than anything else.

And if I’m honest, so did we.