We left home on January 4th to fly to France. We'd had a rather short night, in my case because I totally failed to find my thermal underwear for some hours. The packing had been left until the last minute because I was playing with my grandson all day, and believed I knew where everything was - including my thermals, in a box in my wardrobe marked 'thermals'. Unfortunately, when I went to get them out, they weren't there! Some time after midnight, I was searching everywhere I could think of in the house, and trying desperately to remember what I did with them last year. I went through every drawer and cupboard I could think of, without finding them, and about 2am, was resigning myself to buying more, when I had the happy thought of looking in the inaccessible under bed drawer - I had to move my bedside chest first. And there they were! Goodness knows why they were in there, I can't remember putting them there, but at least I didn't have to buy more!
The plane from Gatwick was late in leaving, and I'm afraid I spent the extra time buying myself a new camera. My bridge camera has just proved too heavy and bulky to carry around easily, so I bought a tiny 'point and shoot' camera which I think might suit me better - I can just shove it in a pocket and it's very light. We shall see how I get on.
We were, of course, late arriving in Grenoble, but fortunately the bus from the airport waited for us. There was a party of drunken bums on the bus who sang and shouted all the way to the resort, and had to be rebuked by the driver and stopped from drinking more. However, I was so tired I slept through the mayhem, though we resolved to keep away from them if we heard them on the slopes.
It was true that our apartment, as described, was 150 metres above the point where the bus dropped us - 150 vertical metres! The road was considerably longer than 150 metres, and we struggled through the snow and ice, wheeling 20 kilo cases and, in Paul's case, a 20 kilo ski-box as well. We found it eventually,and it's quite similar to last year's one. We have two bunk beds, and the world's smallest shower room, and the sofa in the living area would turn into a double bed if there were 4 of us. Thank goodness there aren't!
On Sunday, I didn't go out to ski as I was too full of cold - I've had a cold since early December, but Sunday was by far the worst day, with me being unable to breathe through my nose at all. I had failed to sleep properly on Saturday night because of it, and it was worse during the day. So Paul went out to do a bit of gentle skiing and have a look around, and I stayed in and snivelled! Sunday night was an even worse night, and we both slept badly until about 6am, after which we then slept very late.
After a late breakfast, we set out. I am greatly daring in skiing at all, because I'd developed an Achilles Tendon problem in December, had quite a bit of physiotherapy, and now have to wear huge wedges in all my shoes and boots. Apparently the wedges in my ski boots have improved my stance, and I am skiing better, according to Paul. However, I got a nasty shock on the first drag lift, which you might be able to see at the far side of the photo below.
Nobody was using the lift, and when it started, it began with such a jerk that it jerked me right off my feet and right up in the air, and I fell very heavily on my back, which winded me. For several seconds I couldn't breathe, and my back and shoulder blades are very painful.
I declined to have another go at such a savage lift, so we skied across the slope to one which started more gently, and I was able to ski down the slope you can see in my photo.
I practised my parallel turns down the slope for some time, returning by the gentler lift to go back up, but the snow was poor. It was a hot day, so the snow was slushy and sticky and there were some sheets of ice; even Paul caught an edge and fell. After just over an hour, my back and ribs were starting to hurt more and more, so I decided to call it a day. Fortunately, there was a quick way home, which you might be able to spot in the photo below.
Just about the centre of the photo is a clump of trees, with what looks like a road to the left of them. This is a ski path which takes you onto a shallow slope and you can cross on a bridge and come out just opposite our apartment building. It had the added advantage that I didn't have to ski again down the steeper, and icy, slope to my left. Paul continued on his own, and fell several more times on the poor snow, so now we are both taking pain-killers!
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