THE SECOND SEASON BEGINS...
So I’m back in the mountains on my second season as a chalet host in Tignes and it’s good to be home!
I'm now blogging for a great site, www.stylemountain.com but this is where it started, so the beauty of cut n'paste!
That's me on the left with the white helmet.
FOUR WEEKS SINCE I BUST MY KNEE
It’s been four weeks since I bust my knee, and as a consequence for tearing a ligament, the last week has seen me repping a coach down to the airport and riding home in a police car. Yes, when transfer day came round the corner, I was shipped off down to the airport as a resort rep so that my knee could have a rest from cleaning. The day brought many obstacles such as; working out how to put the seat down, where the microphone was located, how to turn on the microphone and how to overcome speaking English to the French driver without speaking in a French accent. Practicing my welcome speech in my head, I prepared to say to the guests that ‘I’m really sorry, but the toilet facilities are out of order on this coach, so please just let me know if and when you need the loo and I’ll let the driver know’. However, when it came down to it, the words that came out of my mouth were: ‘I’m really sorry, but the toilet facilities are out of order on this coach, so please just let me know if and when you need a poo’. Cue chuckles from the guests and one very red-faced ‘rep’.
But, with transfer day out of the way, all eyes turn to nights out on Sunday and the all important bar crawl on Monday. Bar crawl turns us chalet hosts into wobbly, bleary-eyed, chunder-bus-riding mentalists… more than usual. And, when one is projectile vomiting across the club, it turns out that I am not the best person to assist them home when they’re swaying back and forth because of drunkenness and I’m swaying back and forth because of a snapped ACL. When my friend slipped on a sheet of ice I had no choice but to be dragged down with her, me going one way and my knee going the other, resulting in tears on the pavement and the gendarmerie having to take me home in their police van. There was not enough room for us in their van so we had to sit on their laps as they chuckled at our misfortune and stupidity, particularly when we were pointing right and saying ‘gauche’. Once in the apartment, my friend’s phone started ringing with ‘Loulou’ calling. I answered to a voice saying ‘This is the police’. Turned out I’d left my phone in the back of the police van. Smooth.
Speaking of silly decisions, someone in resort thought that it was a good idea to walk home on the piste after missing the last lift from Folie Douce. Three and a half hours later when our chef asked if everyone was down for dinner I never thought that I’d utter the words, ‘No, one’s still up on the hill’. But, he made it down in one piece and said that he’d just never realised that it would get so dark nor be so cold. As it was quite a trek, the guy said that he considered just making a bed in the snow and staying there for the night. He came home to a chorus of ‘The mountain can be a dangerous place’, but mostly expletives, such as ‘What the fucking hell were you fucking thinking!?’ Luckily, there was cake spare to calm him down. I don’t know about you, but if there’s ever a drama or traumatic experience then cake is the cure. Chalet Arse 2013 here I come.
While I’ve been kind of trying to keep off the cake weight, even more so now that I can’t ride, my spare time has been focusing on physio and various exercises. I’ve got to say that Ski Physio have been fantastic in helping me out. I’m sure that their services will be needed even more around resort now as another one of our hosts has potentially dislocated his knee after a drunken collision at Folie Douce. Dancing on tables and watching violinist and fire eaters is pretty much one of the best things in the world, but miss the last lift or drink and ski and there’s a high chance that I’ll have more cripple buddies to hang out with! Two of our guests this week have injured their knees and there are quite a few people hobbling round resort, resulting in a nod of ‘yeah, we’re crutch buddies’ when we catch each other’s eyes and salutes of camaraderie... one guy and I made an X with the crutches. A resort manager has shattered his fibula and tibia, but poetically said that it was not the pain or the fact that he’d broken his leg that hurt the most; he was purely heartbroken from being unable to ride.
But, while us cripples sit pathetically drinking beer to nurse our broken hearts there are, of course, bucket loads of people who carry on doing what we live for and what we’re here for. Yesterday, my dad took out my two friends on an off piste guide as a thanks for looking after me, but, let’s be honest, mostly because he wanted to show off. Check out the edit...
With my MRI scan later on today I’ll soon have a rough idea of how long I will be in the Crutches Club. But, for now, I’m off for lunch and a beer on the mountain… Life may have thrown a bit of a curve ball but there’s no where else I’d rather be than in Tignes, on the mountain, having a pint with my family and friends.
PHYSIO SESSIONS & PINTS IN THE SUN
Sorry for the delay guys, but the last week has comprised of trips to the medical centre, having physio sessions… and drinking pints in the sun. Yes, I have turned into that crippled old man in the pub, drinking because he can’t do much else, and then hitting everyone with his walking stick for chuckles. When I'm sat outside with my leg up on a bench, the boys Tom, Benno, Rupert and Martin are out on the hill doing things like this.
I am not the only injured one though, with another guy doing his second season in Tignes suffering an unfortunate turn of events when he was riding switch down a run with his pole pointing behind him, caught an edge and, well, let’s just say that his end of season hoodie name shall read ‘Raped by his own ski pole’. The tears of laughter still fall and both us returners were hobbling around the chalet, me on my crutches and him avoiding any crutch/ pole-like objects. In terms of my injury though, the knee and leg are still swollen, but I’m down to using only one crutch and the pain is pretty much non-existent, apart from when I think it’s a good idea to dance on it too hard on New Year’s Eve and then all I can hear is pop, pop…and I’m not talking about the fireworks. Yes, from what I can remember, New Year’s Eve in Tignes was darn incredible, with tons of cars lining the streets, thousands of people and endless fireworks. I want to say that it’s a night that I will never forget, but I’m going to have to stop writing about it because the martini and painkiller cocktail kicked in some point after the countdown and so a black hole is all I’m left with.
As you can imagine, New Year’s Day was a painful day for us chalet hosts, only able to move at the same speed as sloths, and smiling through small chat with guests when all we could think about was ‘Don’t chunder on them, don’t chunder on them’. Constant power naps were needed, whether that was under the oven, using silver foil as a pillow, or even on the kitchen floor.
But New Year, new look, and with our first month’s pay we headed to the shops for goodies. I’ve just got to say that I have totally fallen in love with BAM Bamboo clothing and their thermals. I wore them to death when I was on the hill, and still wear them when I’m popping my knee on the piste for New Year’s. They’re made from bamboo and have all the technical elements of moisture wicking, climate control… but they’re also uber soft so what more do you need!? Make sure to check them out.
As I’ve said before, it’s impossible to do a season here without becoming ‘Tignes-ed’, and although there is still a lot of work to be done on the ‘Barbie’ to ‘Baggie’ transformation, some of the hosts have cracked and swapped their tight fitting North Face and Spyder jackets for Nikita and Majesty hoodies down past their knees, their fur headbands for baggie Armada and Planks Clothing beanies, and the shitty rental skis for Line Afterbangs. I felt a huge sense of pride in watching my friend Mikey buy XXL hoodies, and it was all too much to watch and not join in, so I treated myself to a Colour Wear hoodie, down to my knees and 50 sizes too big for me. Ah, it’s good to be home.
Home, as in UK home, is a topic that has been cropping up a lot recently with anyone and everyone giving me their opinion on what I should do with a potentially snapped ACL and four more months in the Alps. The two extremes are ‘You’re an idiot, go home’ and ‘Nah, you’ll be doing gentle skiing by March’. I swear that I say the term ACL more times in a day than the word ‘and’ at the moment. Unbeknown to me, my dad decided to very publicly discuss this dilemma on a ski forum. The comments have made me chuckle, and some made me want to bawl like a baby, but it really is interesting to hear what people think. No decisions can be made until after my MRI scan next Friday, and I’m dreading hearing the results. Yet, work is returning to normal, I am mastering the art of dancing on one leg at après, I’m doing my physio exercises daily and I genuinely feel that my knee is getting stronger everyday. Whether next Friday brings the worst news, or the not-so-bad news, for now I’m enjoying early physio treatment, good company, incredible surroundings, and all with my knee safely under my XXL hoodie.
THE NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS
Our first proper transfer day of the season reared its head and so I was up at 3:30am to start work at 4:30am and deep clean 12 rooms in 12 hours. It is a pretty tough day, but I have to say that playlists are the key for getting through transfer days.
However, this was Christmas week so Ben Howard got swapped for Mariah Carey, Wham and Michael Buble (the Boobs) on repeat around the chalet. Guests arrived to a Christmas tree that was bent over on itself as it’s slightly too tall for the room, lights twinkling around snapped skis above the bar and us chalet hosts wearing Santa hats, turkey hats and pretty shocking Christmas jumpers. Yes, Christmas week had arrived!
This is the week where ovens decide to explode on Christmas Day, hosts accidently make mince pies with real mince and you really can see snowmen flying through the air, particularly when they’re built in the path of the piste bashers.
Christmas 2012 in Tignes and Blimey O’Riley was it to be one that I will not be forgetting in a hurry… Christmas Eve and the sun was shining, blue skies were around and there was some pretty gorgeous snow on the slopes.
Once breakfast had been served and rooms cleaned, all thoughts turned to clipping on those skis and getting on that hill. With new rollers in the park the challenge was to try and get as much air as possible. After landing the darn jump, I stupidly decided to turn around to see if my friend had landed it after me.
It may sound overdramatic but I have genuinely never regretted anything more in my life than looking back over my shoulder and twisting round in my skis to then feel my knee ‘pop’, my skis cross and a pretty big wipe-out to follow.
Pringles have their slogan dead on, as once I tried to stand up the ‘popping’ in my knee never stopped. Although in the back of my mind I knew that I had done something pretty bad, I clung onto the idea that it was Christmas Eve, my season had just started; these serious injuries happen to punters on a week’s holiday, not second-timers with new park skis and a recently upgraded lift pass… It just had to be a bad sprain.
Nevertheless, the ski patrol were called and I was loaded into the blood wagon and zipped up, resembling E.T. in that little white box, especially as I kept saying that I needed to phone home!
After lying in the medical centre’s corridor for two hours, I was wheeled into the X-Ray room where the French doctor seemed to take a bit too much delight in seeing me try to walk, my knee giving way and me falling over.
Putting me in a wheelchair, I then had my belongings dumped on my knee in a crate. Cue a scream of pain from me and a chuckle from the French doctor. The difference in humour still astounds me. When he handed me my X-Ray, I half-expected him to have written ‘Stupid English girl’ in the bottom left hand corner after his incessant head-shaking and tutting.
Although actually I have ‘Enfant Lorraine’ written on all my medical forms as apparently 1990 translated to being born in 2009, and Lauren (my Christian name) becoming Lorraine. Still, the pharmacist didn’t bat an eyelid when baby Lorraine was being bought crutches, quite a massive knee brace and a shed load of drugs.
Yes, I have most probably snapped my Anterior Cruciate Ligament/ ACL. Or, after mishearing my friend, what I like to call my Anterior Cruiseship ligament. I now require an MRI scan, surgery, intense physio and I will not be able to ski for the rest of the season.
Talk about a lump of coal Santa!
But, day three and I am walking around with one crutch instead of two, my knee is rarely buckling and I am giving work a go tomorrow, so fingers crossed all is looking well for me staying for the rest of the season.
Besides, there’s always disabled skiing!
Now, here’s the point where I have to go all corny and say that these pretty hard last couple of days would have been virtually impossible without the help and support of the buddies that I have out here. I’m going to go all soppy and say a massive merci to Tom, Benno, Katie, Pat, the chalet team Laura, Emily, Joe, Callum and everyone else who has been a much appreciated extra crutch, putting up with me thinking it’s a good idea to mix wine and pain killers and helping me put my brace, sock and boot on my injured leg.
I am a strong believer in things happening for a reason, and although I can’t tell you exactly why I’ve snapped my ACL two weeks into the season, I am so grateful to still be surrounded by mountains, snow and pretty special people.
The season has officially begun
With guests in chalets and après nights well and truly underway. Life as a chalet girl is full of drama, also known as Tignes-enders, chuckles and, most importantly, cake. Although snow is also a relatively important part of seasonaire life, and my lord, is there a shed load of it here at the moment and we’ve been having the best time on it.
Also vital is beer, and there’s possibly even more of that here than fresh powder, or so my liver seems to think. Together, beer and snow prove to be a lethal combination, perfectly demonstrated when my flatmate slipped on the side of the piste after bar crawl and knocked herself out cold. My other friend also got dragged down a slope and twisted her ankle.
Just remember guys that bar crawl will, and does, claim its casualties. Yet, I can’t really talk after falling down a flight of stairs yesterday on my back, after slipping on the top step, unable to stop...and I was stone cold sober.
The bruises have appeared, along with the dreaded Chalet Hands after constant cleaning and washing up.
It’s actually painful typing this right now!
Work has been manic, spending one week setting up our chalets and this week having our first guests. However, yesterday was our first day off and it was a darn good one with blue skies, fresh powder and tons of ski time. We tried to go for a ‘team ski’, which resulted in lots of tuts and expletives under breath as some got lost, some wanted to ride faster than others, and some just could not wait to get to the oasis in the mountain that is La Folie Douce, a club/ bar set between Val D’Isere and Tignes that you can only get to by skiing.
It starts at about 3pm with the music being heard all over the slopes, luring people to it. The plan is to buy your own supermarket cocktail first and then all meet by ‘the shed’ just outside Folie, for a dance and a drink. However, the bouncer at the door spotted our not so subtle technique and banned one of us girls from entering Folie. Cue my friend and I swapping jackets and helmets and trying to act as nonchalant, and sober, as possible as we bobbed past the bouncer.
In my defence, it takes a special talent to not wobble in ski boots... pretty much anyone and everyone looks wasted, particularly when you slip on the icy wood and throw your own pitcher of beer in your face.
I can tell you from personal experience that it’s not a good look.
Once in Folie, we met up with the Val D’Isere hosts.
Now, there is a divide between Tignes and Val D’Isaaaaar.
The Val girls are Val girls for a reason: tall, ridiculously long hair, fur headbands/ fur trimmed coats and saying ‘yaaaar’ to everything, while us Tignes girls are a bit of a mixture. It’s like West Side Story on the slopes, except we’re singing ‘Good Feelin’ out of tune instead of ‘America’. Yet, those who come to do a season in Tignes leave ‘Tignes’, with hoodies and jackets down to our knees, baggy salopettes and a vast collection of beanies. Some girls here have sworn that they are ‘Ski Barbies’ for life and will never buy clothes 10 sizes too big for them.
But doing a season in this flipping amazing resort changes you and I guarantee that there will be a transformation from ‘Barbie’ to ‘Baggie’. Watch this space guys and roll on this incredible season.
Diary of a Chalet Girl doing her first season - Tignes-Enders
I no longer have any clue what the date is:
The past couple of weeks have flown by, with more drama here in ‘Tignes-enders’. There’s even more swapping around of chalet hosts, chefs having to move to different resorts for a week, various couplings and constant whisperings of ‘Have you heard!?’ It’s a job that definitely keeps you on your toes.
In my last blog entry, I’d been up since 3:30am for transfer day, not finishing till about 9:30pm. For those who don’t know, transfer day is the worst day of the week as you have to be up super early to wave off departing guests, make breakfast for those who aren’t leaving till later, ‘deep clean’ the whole of the chalet, (which takes the most time), and be ready at any time for one of the reps to call up saying: ‘Right, I’ve got five guests for you and I’m dropping them off…now!’ It’s then a case of sprinting outside, showing the new guests inside the chalet and settling them into their rooms. Dinner is then at 7:30, with possible later services till about 10pm, and you can then be up waiting for the latest guests to arrive till about 2am. It’s then up at 6 the next morning for their first breakfast!
But, with transfer day over, all eyes are set on Wednesday, or the much-loved ‘Day Off’. Last Wednesday, I experienced my first trip to La Folie Douce, a club/ bar set between Val D’Isere and Tignes that you can only get to by skiing. It starts at about 3pm with the music being heard all over the slopes, luring people to it. The plan is to buy your own supermarket cocktail first and then all meet by ‘the shed’ just outside Folie, for a dance and a drink. It turns out that skiing one-handed with a bottle of orange ‘mix’ under your arm is actually trickier than it looks... I was just praying that I didn’t fall over so as not to end up with an orange jacket.
Once inside Folie, I met my good friend Claire who works over in Val. It was a reunion full of squeals and hugs as we hadn’t seen each other since training at the start of December. It quickly became apparent that there is a definite difference between Tignes and Val. There I was in my bright green Scott jacket, (thankfully not covered in orange), even brighter sallys, fluroescent Oakleys and bling boots, standing in front of the Tignes lot: the baggiest clothes you can imagine and the brightest colours you can think of, each with a beer in hand. Meanwhile, the Val group stood opposite, each wearing a fur headband, skinny black trousers, fitted quilted waistcoats…all in black and white with some kind of gin mix in glasses. It was like West Side Story on the slopes, with Claire and I stuck in between the two groups. Yet, I felt proud of my Tignes lot... I don’t think I’d suit a fur headband!
However, yesterday at Folie, I ventured into the most coveted territory: the VIP area. Yes, being with the Val D’IsArrrr girls does mean that you get selected to hang out in the VIP section. Staring out over the epic view, sipping champagne and sitting on fur I did start to think that maybe a fur headband wouldn’t be so bad…. But then, I saw a group of florescent yellows, reds, greens, purples and blues all sitting out by ‘the shed’. And so, in true Tignes style, Aimee and I got up onto the VIP tables, waving frantically at our group and dancing. Our hearts may belong to Tignes, but we weren’t going to leave our VIP spot, especially when we were being asked ’How did you get in there!? Totes jell’. Only at Folie people…
Skiing back from Folie changes your skiing style. With a bit of drink in you, suddenly a ridiculously moguly and icy run doesn’t seem so bad! Just get those edges in and head to Loop Bar.
We’ve also been skiing in the Park quite a lot. My good friend Amy took me through it for the first time last week. At the top, we let all the ridiculously good riders go first and then pathetically skied behind them, checking out how high the jumps were and what the chances were of breaking bones. Getting the chair up again, we decided to go for jumps one, two and four, avoiding the mini mountain that was jump number three. Following Amy, we did a couple of jumps and then I saw her disappear over a drop and a faint cry of ‘Don’t do it Loulou!’, It was too late. We had both miscounted and my skis were going over the dreaded jump number three. I did not land gracefully and ended up skiing on my bum for the rest of the slope. That definitely got us over our fear and we were soon onto the boxes.
My other good friend Aimee (just to confuse you) has been converted from boarding to skiing. After only three days of skiing ,I decided to take her into the park. Honestly, I have never laughed so much on the slopes. Our landings are the most ungraceful things in the world: imagine a starfish stance crossed with some kind of startled gazelle. And then, there was the box. I should probably explain at this point that the boys do the park a lot, doing switch 540s, shifty 180s, mumbo jumbo malarkeys, which they’ve explained to me but I still don’t get. When us girls are in the park, the plan is to go through it when they can’t see us falling over, squealing and collapsing with laughter. Not when they’re going up on the chairlift and Aimee and I do the box one after the other. Aimee slid full speed off the box to a chorus of ‘Ooooooo’ from the chairlift, while I, ridiculously close behind her, had to dive sideways off the box so as not to fall on top of her. It then didn’t help that neither of us could get up because of laughing too much. Yes, the bruises have appeared!
I guess that falling off boxes is a part of being in the R. Lodge. Yet, I think that the ‘gnarliest’ thing I’ve done so far is eat a slice of baguette piled with French mustard. We’ve put up a ‘Progression Wall’ in the kitchen where we label three things that we’ve never done before and at the end of the week you have to tick one item off, or face eating four cloves of garlic. The boys have added back flips, tail 540 and all that 360, 180 mumbo jumbo, while I have to ride Face (the horrid Black run down into Val), switch riding, (ski backwards), and the hardest one of them all: only eat one slice of cake per day!!! No exaggeration, it has been extremely hard only having one slice of lemon drizzle a day, or carrot cake, peach cake and strawberry cake, particularly when the boys are on their third slice of cake saying ‘This is the best cake ever made!’
Woops, I’ve now made myself hungry, so I’m off to the little patisserie, (but not for cake!) Hope everyone’s well back home. Miss you!
‘Gnardocious’: An example of our ‘Word of the Day’ at R. Lodge.
Really busy here today, with the alarm going off at 3:30 this morning!
I'm off to my new apartment in Val Claret for the next week, but will try and write a better update soooooon.
For now, here's a video that the press have made about Rider's Lodge, focusing on the 'snow guru', or Ash to us here:
and for anyone that fancies a chuckle, this has had us in stitches here:
S*** Skiers Say:
Just a quick update to show you how much snow we've had!
This is the view outside our dining room window. A couple of weeks ago you could just about see the decking, but now the snow looks like it's about to come through the window!!
The sun is trying to get through today, but visibility is still a little dodgy, so we're heading down the mountain to Le Brevieres!
In other news, new guests arrived yesterday and seem to be the most suited to this type of lodge!!
Really looking forward to this week!
We've also had a mad couple of days with emotions running high and then very very low, but touch wood, things seem to have settled a bit now...
As for this evening, our guests have this to look forward to:
Righteous! Only in the R. Lodge...
Will keep you updated.
Lots of love X
6/1/12: HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Happy New Year guys!
What a crazy week and a half it has been! With no choice, I was torn away from my beloved Lodge and put into a 12 person chalet, running it with one other host. This meant that I had to cook the dreaded Christmas dinner, ah!! All went smoothly until last Tuesday when I got a phone call....my chalet host and friend had managed to board head-first off a 13-foot wall and onto the concrete pavement below. She now has two broken elbows and the doctor said that without a doubt her helmet saved her life. Sadly though, her season is fini! If you’re reading this Lorna, we love you and miss you!!!!
And so followed a manic week of cooking and working with different people, trying to get food out to thirty guests (as there is also a chalet next door). I swear that the stress of last week has aged me, along with the constant blasts of icy wind in my face! Yet, the week was smoothed out by the awesome friends that are Tracy and Bing visiting from Courchevel and taking me out for one of the best skis so far. They also very kindly gave me food… Wednesdays are full of chalet girls wandering around the supermarkets like zombies, complaining that they’re starving but wanting to save their 5 euros for après! I was also joined by Mumma and Pappa on Tuesday and Wednesday, who also very kindly fed us starving chalet girls and took us skiing. Well, Daddy Crippla was left in the bar! It was lovely to see them and I miss them all already!
New Year’s Eve was on Transfer Day, but we managed to serve the last guests and sprint out of the chalet at 11:30, onto the piste and in time to see the fireworks. I now realise how stupid I was bringing a ‘dressy’ top for New Year’s, when working with four boys meant that I was given exactly twelve minutes to get ready and ordered to wear my salopettes. Oui, I am now back in the Lodge for the majority of the week!! Although I am still working some morning shifts at the 12-person chalet, I am back to spending my evenings in the Lodge kitchen, watching the boys play ‘crumb eye’, ‘cake ear’, eat whole limes, stick beans behind their ears, and try to assess whether they can jump off the roof into the fresh powder without breaking anything.
Unfortunately, skiing is by far off the menu today, (for the girls anyway), with incredibly strong winds and deep, deep powder. We got told by the police today that we are now 'forbidden' to walk along the road and have to get buses everywhere. Walking to the bar last night involved falling over numerous times, (even though I was sober), and having to climb into the Lodge over a mini mountain of snow. Walking to the 12-person chalet this morning meant that Aimee and I decided to walk along the narrow road, only to have the snow plough come right behind us! Frantically waving for him to see us, we were torn between diving into the massive snow drifts or running like penguins along the slippery road in order to avoid ‘death by snow plough‘. Who knew that two girls could ou trun a snow plough at 6am!?
Hope everyone’s well back home and had a flipping amazing New Year’s Eve.
19/ 12/ 11
Alors, Saturday arrived along with 20 new guests. Since then, we have been finding our routine of being ready for work at 7, serve breakfast, make the afternoon cake, clean rooms, go skiing, come back for a quick cup of tea, be ready for 5, serve dinner, clean the kitchen, go out.
The skiing has been tricky though, with two hours out on the mountain yesterday turning into a mission to ski out of the cloud and snow that pounced on us mid-chairlift. Without being able to actually see the snow that we were skiing on, we managed to find some new runs back down to the main chairlift... except that the final 'new' run that we were thrilled to have discovered turned out to be the same run we'd be skiing on for the last two weeks!!
Oh, how white-outs make it even harder for us to read a piste map!!
Although the snow keeps building and clouds get lower, I have realised what a must skiing is when there's always half a cake left over every evening and it's too painful to chuck in the bin. There's also the cake mixture that has to be licked out of the bowl every morning... I genuinely tried to fight it, but all the returning seasonaires have said that the notorious 'chalet bum' is inevitable and unavoidable.
There is a bar crawl tonight though, which will indeed be a crawl through knee-high snow from one village to the other, so I guess that means that I can have some cake later? One of the last bars is even up a slope, which last week resulted in tears of laughter as many reps, chalet hosts and nannies all tried to make it up the mini mountain. Many different techniques were used, such as side stepping or just boldly running and leaping, but most of us ended up sliding back down to the bottom in a dominos-style effect!
It's a fantastic time out here at the moment and the snow is setting us up for a fabulous season, with more due later this week. But, it's nearly 5, so it's on with the uniform and into the kitchen. I've added a couple of photos....
Hope everyone's well back home!!
First blog entry: 14/12/11
After two weeks of trying to make pancakes with cake mixture, putting uncrushed seeds into a starter and having my manager bring down my boot bag because 'something' was vibrating, (it was my toothbrush!), we are finally ready for guests to arrive on Saturday (if the snow behaves). The snow here is crazy.
Picture to the right is the view of the lake and next village from my season accomm/ chalet.
After three years of skiing in the 'Deep South' in late March/ April, I had gotten used to bits and bobs of snow. Now, us seasonaires have fallen over countless times on the icy roads, fallen head first into powder and stepped into what we thought was shallow snow, only to be engulfed by the thing up to our waists.
We had a brilliant first day on the slopes on Wednesday, and now into our second day off, I fear that I may well have been 'apres-ed' after dancing to a band in one of the best bars. While I'm in another bar waiting for my 15 euro lasagne I will add some piccies for you all to see...
This is Kimbo, who loves running through snow drifts and fresh powder for snowballs.
P.s. He is half wolf.
Au Revoir for now...