Day 2 on the slopes and I am really starting to feel how unfit I am. Every year I ache in places I never even knew I had muscles. This year is no exception.
Our day started almost sunny and a little misty, with pockets of mist hugging the mountain-side.
More snow fell overnight, making Puy look deliciously wintery and keeping the avalanche warning high.
After dropping the children at Kids Club, we walked up to La Bergerie, 4 man lift where we attempted to don skis and join the queue to head up the mountain. Amanda’s ski needed adjusting, so she and Jonny headed to the ski shop whilst Gaz and I went up in advance. We spotted a queue free lift at 2000, so took the Richer Noir up to the top of the mountain. Here the mist that wrapped the lower slopes had cleared, giving us a glimpse of the sunny peaks, breaking through the foam of cloud.
A quick run down the blue run saw us back in the mist, and reunited with the Marshes, who had made swift work of the ski repairs. We then took the Rocher Noir lift again, this time decending via a steepish red that was new to us all. Here I discovered that the bottle I lost of Pendine last year had definitely not returned, as I picked my way very cautiously down.
We stayed around 2000, as the queues for lifts at this height were much shorter, breaking for hot chocolate (avec rum) at the higher of the two mountain restaurants.
We then decided (on my suggestion) to descend all the way to the bottom of resort, via the long blue that runs through the trees. It was beautiful, surprisingly steep in places, and a thoroughly satisfying run. We passed a casualty en route, which slowed me down a little, as I recalled the potentially consequences of a tumble. Slowing down at the end of this run was mistake, however, as it ended with a long traverse and insufficient speed meant a lot of pushing!
On arrival at 1400, we met another monster queue for the lift.
Which afforded us plenty of time to admire the view and soak up the sun. When we eventually got back up the mountain we tried to remain high, taking Bergerie up to 2000 again and giving ourselves another run down from the top of Rocher Noir, this time taking Cretes from top to bottom.
We had not much time left before ski school pick up and my legs were burning and I was struggling to keep my pace up, so we sent Jonny and Gaz ahead whilst I followed Amanda’s tracks in best ski school style. It turned out that Jonny had to do a solo pick up of all three kids, as Gaz took a tumble. Amanda and I passed him, trying to reconnect his errant ski, about 200m from base. He waved us on, so we headed back to 1600, where we picked out our little gang of Snowbizzers amongst the crowds gathered for ski school.
After a quiet lunch, we had three excited children keen to amuse themselves. Some respite was gained whilst they made owl magnets (my last minute packing of leftover craft activities from Eleanor’s birthday party was a good call!) then an active game of hide and seek, between our two apartments ensued.
As the decibel levels rose, a demand for snowballing was agreed to and the entire party (minus me, who headed for a nap) adjourned outside to make snowballs and go sledging.
Another trip to the sweet shop was cajoled out of susceptible parents and, armed with sugar, the kids settled down to watch Trolls whilst parents recovered.
The plan, formulated in the enormous lift queue, was to feed the kids chicken and chips (both items bought, cooked, from the supermarket, before sending them to kids club). Jonny was, accordingly, dispatched on this mission, arriving at the Sherpa supermarche at the same time as roughly half of Puy. He managed to deliver on half of the requirement, eventually emerging from the mellee with chicken (and wine). The wine was unfortunately, distributed all over the floor, following an unfortunate unpacking incident, so kids and chicken were relocated to our apartment whilst clean up commenced. Eventually, with kids fed, children were deposited at Snowbizz creche, from where they would join the Snowbizz winter Olympics and Gaz was dispatched to the supermarket to forage for something to supplement the leftover chicken with for our supper.
We managed a lavish table picnic, before moving to the Marsh apartment, now clear of wine and glass, to watch the winter Olympics from the balcony.
It was not always clear what was going on and if there were rules, but the kids appeared to be enjoying themselves. They came back bearing medals, even if they were a little hazy as to how they were acquired.
Our girl went, largely unresisting, to bed. It’s been another full day in Puy St Vincent. I am hoping for more of the same tomorrow.
Boots and Planks 