In chronological order then…
Day One…
I caught a train up from Milano, through and around the Bergamo Alps and the views were spectacular. Up behind Mount Blanc especially.
The train ride ended at the Geneva station though and so I still needed to find my way to the airport. I had been talking to a German guy and a Ukrainian girl on the way and a swiss girl had overheard me at the station saying I was headed for the airport.
Emanuel, “Hello? Do you think I could follow you to the airport? I’ve only been there once before and I don’t really know the way.”
“Ah, no problem” I replied, “Follow me. Been there dozens of times myself”
This set the other two off in fits of giggles as they knew it was my first time in Europe. So with a confused looking Swiss girl shadowing along beside me, I waved them goodbye and set off, acting confident, to figure out which way to the airport. Took all of 3 seconds in the end; there was a train directly across from us stating ‘Geneva Airport’ on its side. What a pro (o:
In the airport after a tough and teary goodbye to such an old friend, I wandered down to arrivals and there Erin was, sitting serenely on a chair in the middle of all the crowds. Stood out for some reason. Then after a bit of looking around, we found our driver (he was wearing a big sombrero) and made our departure for Avoriaz.
On arrival we met Cosima’s boyfriend Justin at his work and he kindly drove us up to the apartment he and Cosima shared. It was here that Erin and I would be gate crashing for the next few days. We walked in on a road of snow flanked by rooftops thick with Christmas icing and window frames aglow with candle light promoting the end of the Christmas season. One horse open sleighs glided past as we walked through the town (simply no cars allowed) and the last of the day’s warmth was just beginning to be replaced by the silver shadow of night.
Justin and Erin arriving and walking to Cosima's flat in Avoriaz...
A quick hello to Cosima it was almost time for bed as Erin and I were both quite knackered from the travels. We also met Justin’s sister Chris(tine) who was staying the night too, waiting on six of her friends to arrive for new years for which they had hired another apartment.
Day Two…
We awoke around 9am I think. Went and hired our gear from one of Cosima’s friends and then grabbed a week’s lift pass. Now it was time for the slopes. A few shaky turns and some wobbly, arms wide, falling leaf manoeuvres out of the way, and both Erin and I found the skiing and boarding skills returning quite quickly.
Thus started a day of perfect snow conditions, blue blue sky, zero wind and a serious lack of crowds. Majority of people arrive and leave on the Saturday and so spend the day preparing for the coming week or packing to leave; leaving the slopes pleasantly bare for us.
And the day was as perfect as the conditions. Cosima, Chris and some of Co’s friends Pernillea (Danish girl) and Imi (English girl) who joined us later on ensured fun times were had and, for a bunch of skiers, Chris and I reckon they weren’t half bad.
Lunch was a hamburger on the mountain though whoever taught the French how to make them, needs to try again. My hamburger (I know, shouldn’t be ordering American fare in France in the first place) consisted of a meat patty with an egg on top. No bun, no bread, only an order of fries and a sausage on the side. But it tasted dang good and that’s what counts.
End of the day came and went, a nice home made dinner of wedges, stuffed chicken and salad was eaten, bed was made ready (we had shifted Chris off to her next port of call, earning me a couch and a beer on New Years for the help) and then after some small talk we dozed off, dreaming of the days yet to come.
Day Three…
Today Chris headed off with her friends from England, Cosima went back to work and so Erin and I headed off for a day of exploration. Another good day of nice snow; especially in the morning and the sky looked promising.
So our exploration began with a decision to try and ski (and board) from one country to another. From France to Switzerland. Avoriaz is a truly awesome ski field. Encompassing two countries, it has 40 lifts and hundreds of runs. In a week I managed barely a quarter of them.
A few runs later and we found ourselves at the France\Swiss border. Time for some illegal border crossing; only it’s legal so that was much harder then it sounds. On the swiss side we completed a real mix of runs, constantly heading down the mountain with the intention of returning to France around noon to meet up with Chris and co for the afternoon. Never happended.
We got utterly lost at the bottom of possibly the most poorly designed run ever. For a snowboarder anyway. It traversed for ages through a corridor of trees, probably beautiful and relaxing if seen on skiis, but for a snowboarder it meant twenty minutes or so of standing on one board edge, toes sliding and crushing into your boot front, straps digging in to your feet, while you wait for the snail paced, edge catching, trail to enter into some downward angle once more. Only it never does. Then, to top it all off, at the bottom of the run we find there is a serious lack of lifts back to Avoriaz and so it was a walk through town to find another lift that headed, kind of, towards home.
Jump off this one and another half an hour of skiing passes (we’re already 2 hours late for our lunch ‘date’ to meet the others) and we find we are still way off course and now seem to be heading back to where we found ourselves stranded before. One of my bindings had also seized up with ice going up a drag lift, leaving me to believe it was broken and so I rode for a bit on one. Patience was, to put it nicely, wearing thin at times with the sister. Pity, was still a beautiful day – in the French Alps! So a few more lifts later and as we couldn’t follow instructions to save ourselves, we eventually found ourselves at a bus stop from where we could catch a lift back to Avoriaz. Phew! We were told it was possibly the furthest from Avoriaz you could go!
So we climb on the bus and what the?! We run into Pernella and Imi! Yay! We’re saved. And so we spent the remaining part of the afternoon following them home. They in turn were following two of their friends, Hans and Nina, who were part of a Danish tour group which consisted of 3 instructors and maybe 9 other Danes who whizzed down the mountain, leaving Erin and I gasping for breath at the end of each run. But they took us home, showed us some more of the mountain, pushed us in a nice way and helped end the day on a high that lasted all week.
This was also new years day and so knowing we were in for what was probably to become a big night, we stopped a little early at around 3:30pm. We had skipped lunch though and so had been on the mountain for a solid 6 hours or so of riding.
Day Four…
Today I had a rest day. To let my thighs recover a little. A slight alcoholic aftertaste may also have contributed somewhat to the day’s inactivity…
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