The Alpine Equivalent of the Camel Trophy

I took Thursday afternoon off and drove southwards, planning to go skiing on Friday with my Mum. Alas, the weather gods were in a bad mood and decided Carinthia had had enough sunshine and could do with a bit buckets of rain and fog. Ah well. Stubborn creature that I am, I decided that the weather would not deter me and since the weather forecast was worse even for Saturday, Mum and I went skiing on Friday according to my plan. At least there was no problem finding a parking space, there were only 2 other other cars (one with a Viennese, one with a German license plate) in the car park of the Verditz valley station. It's a very "retro" ski resort with ancient lifts which is hardly ever overcrowded anyway, but still. It had only just started raining when we got out of the car and my Mum wasn't convinced the weather would last. We walked up to the ticket booth and she grilled the cashier. "Which direction will the clouds go?" "Is it foggy up the mountain", etc. He looked into his crystal ball or rather webcam and after much deliberation on my mother's part (would it be worth driving elsewhere, perhaps?) I convinced her to give it a try. The cashier seemed impressed and said "You're no coach potato, eh?" to me when he put down the seat of my chair on the one-seater lift.

Well, we got literally empty slopes in return for a wet bum (the 3 chair lifts there are v-e-r-y slow and the seats were wet) and soon wet everything. Why has nobody thought to invent ski goggles with windscreen wipers, by the way? When the snow turned into heavy rain even at the top of the mountain, we gave up and had lunch at one of the few open huts.
There, I saw a sign in rather original English with German syntax at the toilet door:

click to enlarge