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| Mt Tiede, Tenerife's volcano, from the EasyJet window. |
This is a first for me.
I've never had a week's holiday in the sun during the middle of winter,
normally I'm heading somewhere colder for skiing.
The holiday was Sam's
idea, he arranged it and asked if we wanted to come along. Tenerife was chosen
because you can fly directly from Jersey. We had an early flight from Gatwick
(bag drop 6am), so we stayed overnight at the airport to avoid a miserable 3am
start.
Tenerife is a popular
winter destination for we Brits. I didn’t realise how popular until I mentioned
I was going on holiday there. So many people seem to own property in the
Canaries, or have mates who let them use properties or go there every year for a
break from the gloomy British winter.
I was particularly looking
forward to going to a Spanish-speaking destination, so I could practise my
language skills and (perhaps) even show off. As it turned out I didn’t get much
further than hello, good morning, please and thank you; although I did ask for
a spoon once. The only place where I could have let rip, the waitress had gone
to university in Cardiff and relished the chance to practise her English!
We stayed at the Roca Nivaria, part of the Adrian Hoteles group, at Costa
Adeje. We didn’t book all-inclusive as we expected to get out and about a
little (perhaps to the top of Mount Teide, the volcano that dominates the
island). As it happened, we found everything we needed inside the hotel, so we
emerged only to buy water, snacks for Arthur, wine and beach stuff. We also found a small play area, which Arthur
liked, Margaret and I went to a restaurant one evening and we had a short walk
around the coast promenade. That was it.
The hotel
has restaurants, pools, sports and games areas, shops, nursery, soft play,
gardens, walks, putting green and a lift down to the beach. It was a bit like
an upmarket Butlin’s (very upmarket, but the principle was the same).
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| Arthur tucking into breakfast |
Food was
great, staff were nice, decor was lovely, and the weather was pleasant (up in
the low 20s). It was good to be able to spend some time with Arthur. He
recognised Margaret straight away at the airport, which she was rightly pleased
about. I was also to form more of a bond with him, which was great. Because of
distance, Arthur knows us a lot less than Julia or Aureliano and so it’s good
to have some quality time with him.
We’d taken
some books along and Arthur had a new book each day. He loved Bear Hunt. Our
routine soon settled into a pattern:
1. Breakfast would be taken in turn so that Sam and Lucy got Arthur
some food, then we went up for ours (help-yourself buffet). Arthur would soon
be full or fed up and so I’d take him for a walk around the gardens and pools
for 20 minutes or so while the others ate. There was a fish pond with some
large fish and terrapins. That was out first port of call, then there was a
wall to balance on, a cave bar/restaurant (that may have contained a bear) and a waterfall
that you could walk behind. Back at the restaurant, Sam, Lucy and Margaret
would be on the cava and their third coffee; so I’d tag Margaret to take Arthur
to the soft-play area and I’d grab some cake, cava and coffee myself. Soft
play was a life-saver!
2. We’d then do the pool or football. Arthur doesn’t really like
swimming pools, he isn’t confident, or particularly happy, in the water, but he
does love football, throwing things and chasing around. There was a big
five-a-side pitch, basketball court, volleyball court and giant chess and
draughts games. We bought a ball and Arthur was in his element.
3. He would normally have a sleep late morning or early afternoon,
generally with Sam or Lucy, then we’d have time for pool or more play
afterwards. We tended to snack for lunch and then have dinner quite early.
Dinner would be similar to breakfast, with us working in relays to amuse Arthur
and keep him provisioned. He does have a good arm for throwing and will hurl
food, cutlery or crockery once he’s done with it. You have to watch him closely
and soft play was again a facility that was very much appreciated.
I tried to
teach Arthur buenos días, hola and gracias, but only ‘hola’ stuck and he
shouted it loudly to staff and fellow guests, which was very cute.
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| Playing in the sand at the Volleyball court. |
Tenerife
was the second of three holidays I was taking in the first three months of the
year – quite an impressive record. With grandparent duties for Aureliano and
Julia, allotment and Thorney Post, it was a very busy start to the year.
My first
holiday was skiing with Sam in January. We got a very cheap late deal at La
Rosiere and ended up in a catered chalet with four firemen, a dad and his two
sons, a couple from Worcester and a couple from Essex. It wasn’t a bad mix and
our chalet host (a public schoolboy called Josh) was aimiable, if a little
disorganised.
We went
with Ski Beat for the second year running and it’s a flight to Lyon, then a pretty
long coach transfer to the resort. Sam and I both stayed over in Gatwick the
night before our outbound flight and so the early start was quite tolerable.
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| Very snowy - La Rosiere |
There had
been huge snowfalls in the Alps and we had more snow during our stay. Some
resorts had closed due to avalanche threat and at La Rosiere, the link to Italy
wasn’t open until the last day. I really enjoyed the skiing. I managed to
persuade our resort rep to sell me an over-65 ski pass, which saved some cash,
and then signed up for four days with the ski school. I had nice instructors
and small groups and I was twice promoted to higher levels, which was good for
my confidence.
One of the
ski instructors lived in the village and worked as a golf pro and carpenter
during the summer. I asked him whether he was busy and had classes in the
afternoon and he said he was going to spend the rest of the day clearing snow
from his chalet roof. All the roofs had a good three or four feet of snow on
the top and I asked if they were designed to cope with that weight. He said
this year was particularly thick and said he knew he had to move some snow off
when they couldn’t open the windows upstairs. The weight of the snow bends the
window lintels downwards and you can’t open them. He also showed us the golf
clubhouse up on the slopes at La Rosiere. There’s a nine-hole golf course in
the summer, but now the top of the roof of the clubhouse was just visible.
That’s quite a thickness of snow.
On the last
day, Sam and I skied across into Italy, which involves a couple of reds and two
long drag lifts and I managed to survive all that. Quite a contrast to the year
before at St Martin de Belleville, when I’d crashed hard a couple of times and
was pretty sore by the end of the week. The end of my left thumb is still numb
– nerve damage from one of the falls.
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| First job: buy a sledge! |
My third
holiday, a second ski holiday, was in March and this time we went to Arc 1950
with Sam, Lucy and Arthur. We had decided to drive, even though I was a little
worried about whether the BMW (220,000 miles) would make it there and back. Sam
was flying and we said we’d pick them up on Sunday morning from Chambery. It
was a bit of a squeeze, but we managed it. Margaret was pleased to see Arthur
and even sat in the back without complaining.
Sam and I
had gone to Arc 1950 last year, and we thought it would be good for a family
holiday. The car park (a massive underground construction) took some working
out, but the BMW had performed effortlessly and we managed to unpack and get in
our accommodation by late afternoon. I’d got a dozen bottles of wine stashed
over the wheel well, plus gin and sherry, so we were well provisioned for
booze. We’d also bought essentials from home and there was a Huit a 8 in the
resort.
Like La
Rosiere, there was plenty of snow and it snowed several times during the week.
I was back on my old red skis and boots. My boots were hurting (surely my feet
haven’t grown) and the skis were dragging. I got the skis waxed and hired some
boots for the rest of the week.
Arthur got
a sledge on the first day and enjoyed being dragged around the village in the
snow. It must be a massive culture shock for a toddler to swap his regular St
Helier nursery for mountains, cold and deep snow.
I am very
familiar with Les Arcs resorts and it was good to be back on those slopes. Sam
and Lucy tried to trick me by taking me back onto Renard. They thought if they
brought me in a different way and didn’t say anything that I wouldn’t know
where I was. There’s no forgetting Renard for me, I knew exactly where I was,
but went along with the ruse. It was OK actually. It is a tough blue, but I’ve
done worse.
They were
waiting at the bottom cackling like a couple of old crones.
Skiing was
good most days, but there was quite a lot of snow during the week and on a
couple of days visibility was pretty poor. I struggle a bit when I can’t see
the contour of the slope. I find myself speeding up when I expect to slow down.
Sam says I need to relax and feel the slope. I think I might feel the slope
with my bum.
On the
final day, we all went out in the morning, but the visibility was so poor I
packed it in on the first run and turned for home.
Apart from
revisiting Renard, I did the Mont Blanc run, which I’ve not done for a couple
of years. That’s probably a tougher blue than Renard, but the toughest blue of
all is the last run in to Arc 1600. I always managed to fall on that and
although I managed it OK several times, it did catch me out once.
