For me, it's always a bit of a worry on the last day of your ski holiday that this is the day (just before a long drive home) that you fall and hurt yourself. Better to do it on the last day, rather than the first perhaps, but it's almost as if I've been tempting fate all week and this is the day I say hello to Mr Tree.
I'm never worried about hurting myself, the big worry is getting home. Margaret would be concerned about my theoretical broken leg, of course, but might be more worried about Holly getting out of kennels on time and having to drive in France, on the wrong side of the road, for 700 miles.
Of course, there was no last-minute injury (not even a fall). Saturday is change-over day for most people, so we stayed out of the busy Tarentaise tail-backs and spent the day in a Sainte-Foy that was even quieter than usual.
The snow was wonderful and it was very cold, but also sunny, so the top slopes were a real treat.
Lucy, who would make an excellent spy or journalist, had been eavesdropping on a conversation about the cafe/bar on the Grand Soliet run just above the Marquise lift. Apparently, it had been a disaster and all the staff had been fired except Barbie. They couldn't fire Barbie because she was something of a Sainte-Foy legend. Barbie was still working at Les Marquises and Sam was very keen to see whether she deserved her nickname.
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| Cold, but sunny on the terrace at La Marquise. We really need a proper selfie stick. |
So, after skiing the top run a few times (I stayed on the Grand Soliet, but Sam and Lucy went off to do some harder runs) we met up at Les Marquises. I'd been given some late skiing tips from Sam and Lucy (my two coaches) - mainly involving getting my hips further forward, always facing down the mountain and practising my hoppy turns. I find that it all works very well for a little while, then I either lose concentration or the slope gets a bit steeper and I revert to leaning back and skiddy turns. Anyway, it was a great morning and the balcony at Les Marquises (which I think means either "high windows" or "the penthouse") was in the morning sun.
Barbie was a charming, very attractive, middle-aged Frenchwoman and deserves a kinder nickname and Les Marquises is a great place to stop for elevenses. While we were there a Frenchwoman arrived on snowshoes having walked up from Sainte-Foy accompanied by a small Jack Russell terrier, who was very shivery and would have preferred to sit inside.
We skied a little more after our break and then met Margaret for lunch in the Piano Bar. They do nice snacks, but everything is served in polystyrene packaging (like a fast-food outlet) and the cutlery is also plastic. It's not good for the environment and trying to eat a crispy croque monsieur with a plastic fork is a recipe for fork breakage (best to use your fingers). Sam and I skied a little more after lunch, then I called it a day and left Sam to it for another hour.
I've really, really enjoyed my skiing this holiday. The snow has been great and we have managed to miss French holiday weeks. I'd go to Sainte-Foy again. I wouldn't want to ski there every day, but if you have a car, it's very easy to get to Tignes, La Rosiere, Les Arcs or La Plagne. Even one of the Three Valleys resorts are close enough for a day trip. It’s also been lovely to spend some time with Sam and Lucy. Their home will be in Jersey now, so we will have to get used to seeing them maybe three or four times a year. I was rather spoiled when they lived in London and I worked in London.
The rest of the day should have been about packing and other dull tasks, but at about 4pm it started snowing and soon everywhere was blanketed. After packing, I suggested a walk in the snow, so Sam, Lucy and I headed out like excited children. Margaret had not slept well for a couple of nights and was not feeling that good, so we left her and headed up into the village.
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| Sam and Lucy in the snow. |
Cars were arriving in the resort and several of them (probably English people without winter tyres and snow-socks) were struggling to get up the hill. The BMW was already covered by an inch or two of snow. I'd put the skis in the rack already and they were buried too. I do have winter tyres, and my journey would be downhill, so I wasn’t too worried about getting on the road next morning.
It was very pretty in the village, some children were sledging on the nursery piste and they had the snow blowers working at the bottom of the slope and where you turn for the first lift. With real and artificial snow, there was a real depth building up.
I wish I was skiing tomorrow rather than a 15-hour journey back to the flat fens.
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