Sam’s regular monitoring of all available sources of weather data had suggested that our fifth day in France might not be quite as nice as the first four and so it proved.
The day was decidedly windy, so it was glasses off and goggles on and time to pull the neck-warmer up around the chin.
We took a higher ski-lift than previously which led to a high ridge that I’d been on the first day with Jo. There was a good blue which led off the ridge down into a huge bowl. It was not too steep a run, but narrowish and with a pretty steep drop to the left. As is descended into the bowl, other runs joined it and a blue ran off to the left down past Arc 1950.
The high wind which had been kicking up spindrifts of snow as we sat on the sk- lift and had been ripping across the ridge, was now left high above and it was a great day. The new blue was steep in places, but nice and wide and not too busy so we could practise our parallel turns, which were coming easier and easier to me. I’m still snowploughing into the turn and left turns are better than right, but if I lose control, I can generally regain it quite quickly.
We skied down past 1950 and to the foot of a couple of chair-lifts where there were massive queues. Although we were nicely sheltered, it turns out that the wind higher up was stopping the leifts from operating, so it was skis off and Loic led us out onto the road where we waited for the courtesy bus to take us back down to Arc 1600.
By the time we got back, there was just time for a quick 20 minutes ski on one of the lower lifts that was still working and then it was lesson over.
I’d decided that my long hair really needed sorting out, so I headed down to Bourg, parked my gear in the car and headed for the hairdresser. I got there just after 1pm and, guess what, it was shut! French hairdressers open at 9am, shut at 12 noon, open again at 2pm and shut at 5pm. It’s not exactly an onerous working day! They do stay open all day Saturday, which is clearly haircut day, but get Monday off in compensation.
I was just getting grumpy about it (and considering my next move) when Sam texted me to say he and Lucy were heading down, so I walked back to the car to meet them at the bottom of the funicular. It turned out that someone (clearly a Parisian) had skied into Lucy at a chairlift, she’d hurt her knee and also broken a part on her ski binding.
The grumpy Scottish man at Polaire was needed, but this being France and this being lunchtime, he was also shut. Sam decided to give InterSport a chance and so we drove there (it’s just next to the Super U supermarket and we’d been there last year for a look around). Inter really came good, the ski workshop was open and the guy spent ages looking through his boxes of bits for a spare part and then sorted it out in no time. he didn’t even want paying, just a donation in the tips box.
With our gas sorted out, Sam was able to resume his cassoulet plans and it was very good, worth waiting for. Our evenings are spent doing crosswords, drinking and stoking the fire and by 9.30pm, I’m ready for bed. Lucy keeps reminding me that it’s only 8.30pm UK time.
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