Skiing holiday - the biggest pizza ever

There were new people in our ski class this morning. Devon Mike had been promoted to the higher group and there was a chap who looked and sounded just like Tim, so much so that I considered asking him if he had a brother.


No sign of Claire and I asked Devon Mike if she was feeling any better. She was not throwing up any more, he reported. I don't think that relationship is going to last very long. I asked him if he would come skiing again and he said he'd like to but it would have to be a boys' holiday - Claire isn't coming again. To make matters worse, they're staying in Les Arcs 1650, so apart from skiing and eating (neither of which suits Claire right now) there's precious little else to do. I suggested they might visit Bourg during the afternoon and I bigged the place up, told him about the restaurants and the World Famous Cheese Shop. To make matters even worse, they had travelled by coach from Poole overnight and they were heading back on Saturday at 7pm, getting back to Poole at 10am the next day. I can imagine that being a journey from hell even if you'd had a great holiday. Poor old Claire will have to sit and listen to him going on about his skiing for 15 hours!


Fagin was busy puffing away and we had lost a couple of the group (two of the French girls who were struggling) back down to the lower group. One of them had bailed out the previous day, had refused to go down the final slope and had taken her skis off and walked down in a Gallic huff. I don't think Guy had been impressed.


It was a nice day, but not as sunny and very cold. We started off on the usual short run, but then got a longer chairlift called Cachettes and came down a long blue called Belevedere and onto Arpette, then Mont Blanc blue run and back down into Arcs 1650. It was a really good long run, quite tiring, but I was much happier. I was working hard on getting a parallel turn executed and also learning to use both edges on the slope and to slip the outer edge so that I could descend steeper slopes without losing control.


I was also taking care to make sure I was looking up and around me, especially if Guy was in the vicinity, but he seemed a bit more chilled out. One of the French girls skied straight into me so that her ski became trapped in my binding and Devon Mike took out one of the French girls and the sexier of the two Irish women. She is called Aofe and wears sunglasses and a headband to keep her ears warm but let everybody see that she had long blonde hair. She didn't looked too happy with Devon Mike, who had brought the right helmet today, but Guy didn't bat an eyelid. It's all right if you take people out, but look down at the ground and you're dangerous - humph!


From Belvedere, we got a good view of Monte Blanc which is not far away, although its top was covered in cloud. At the bottom, we had one last run down Combette and it was a real effort. The French women, led by Fagin, were getting a bit grumpy and Guy had to shoo them all onto the chairlift like a sheepdog. Oddly, when Fagin is moaning, she moans in English; I think she's trying to get us on board. To be honest I'd have happily gone straight to the bar, but it was good to do that short blue again as a bit of a wind down. Now Guy was making us do the blue, rather than the green diversions, and the top section, which is pretty steep seems much less daunting than it did on Sunday.


In the square, I bagged a table at the bar we'd been to yesterday. We'd decided to eat lunch rather than take sandwiches, because the weather forecast had been for cold weather, but as it happened it was warm and sunny in the square, so we sat outside to eat. Sam decied to go with the plat du jour, which was descriped as beef and potatoes and sounded a bit like a stew. It turned out to be cottage pie. Lucy and I went for pizzas and they were absolute monsters. I had ham, cheese and mushroom which arrived with an egg in the middle, sunny side up and Lucy had the Savoie special, which was even bigger. The pizza base was thin and crispy, but the topping was an inch think in places.


After that and a couple of beers, it was quite hard to move. A morning's skiing is about as much as I can manage and the walk back from the square to the top of the funicular was a real trudge in ski boots and carrying skis. I know ski boots serve a specific purpose, but once they're unclipped from skis they are instruments of pure torture, they weigh a ton, are hard to walk in (especially downstairs or downhill) and getting them off is a nightmare. You open one fastener and while you're opening the next, the first one has clipped itself on again!


Back at the apartment, Meribel was waiting for me and greeted me like a long-lost friend. Sam and Lucy were not too far behind me as the day was quite cold and I think that large lunch was telling. It's 10 minutes down to the funicular to pick them up.

Meribel doesn't mind being a stooge in a comedy pose.

Meribel (top and bottom)

I'd been thinking about the price of hiring skis and asked Sam how much he'd paid for his. He thought his had paid for themselves in four holidays; and I was thinking that I would be happy with some secondhand skis - I wondered if the ski hire places sold them on at the end of the season. Then it struck me - e-bay ... I paid £100 to hire skis, boots and poles, so if I could get myself kitted out on e-bay, I would be in profit next holiday.


I had my netbook with me and there was good wi-fi access in the apartment, so I was on e-bay that night with Sam's expert advice. I bid on some skis a chap was selling in Ramsey, but lost those when they went over £25, but bid on some in Nottingham and I've won those. I'm waiting to see if I've got a pair of ski boots and poles.


Guess I'll have to come next year now!