Now, I’m not refuting the fact that Kalms (or any other herbal remedy used to alleviate stress) do work, as I bought a job lot of them two weeks before leaving for France to help me control some of my increasing anxiety. What I’m saying is that I’ve not been taking them for a week now, and I feel fucking great.
This past week has had some of the best weather the staff and locals here have seen yet this season. AND I HAD FREE TIME TO ENJOY IT.
We had a fabulous group of guests to look after, each with their own quirks but pretty easy to work with. We even sat down to enjoy our last meal with them. Which is virtually unheard of among busy chalet hosts.
Monday and Tuesday I schlepped up the mountain on my own to build some confidence on blue runs. I also half enjoyed a plate of fries in the absence of vanilla rum shots at Le Petit Ourse (because I CAN’T BLOODY FIND IT). Wednesday was day off, and I said to myself that I’d have a spa day, but if you’ve ever read any of my stuff before, you know I’m full of proverbial shit. I didn’t have a spa day. Instead, I took one of my guests on the bus to Ardent, and up three lifts to the very border of Switzerland and France and approximately 2277m above sea level. Visibility was top notch, as you can see below:
Because of the epic vis fail on Wednesday, I couldn’t say no to a day out on the mountain when the sun put its hat on for Rock the Piste festival. SO. DAMN. HOT. I literally stripped down to my t-shirt for like.. a whole 15 minutes. I drank beer, I sang, I danced, I talked way too loud and then I used a ‘dry toilet.’ Looks like a bog standard bog, behaves like an environmentalist. In the sense that it doesn’t flush. You take a dump, and then you dump the dumping stuff on the dump. Then you make like a tree and leave. I actually got a picture; beautiful, I know.
Following that, Friday lunch was had Al Fresco – fajitas, because Friday is shopping day and I bought wraps and cheese. But Saturday was the main event.
Again, I took the lifts to Pointe des Mossettes, where the Swiss Cookie Cafe stands. I had a panini and a hot chocolate with cream, and then I kicked back and waited for Natasha to join me. I just remember thinking, shes gotta love this… right? Who wouldn’t love this right now. Just take a look.
It wasn’t enough to just be sat in Switzerland, we wanted to see it. So we climbed almost vertically up the small bit of peak which had not been incorporated into any runs. We were actually… OFF PISTE.
And I will probably never go off piste again, as my weedy little calves cannot handle all that jazz. But anyway, as we were up there some poor unfortunate soul was being heli-lifted from the mountain. Of course, it’s insensitive but when am I EVER going to be higher than helicopters again?
And that more or less concludes week 3. Work is amazing, I cannot praise the guys I work for or with highly enough (and I’m not just saying that because I know my boss is lurking on my blog – yes, I see you), the weather is good, mountain living is good, I’m landing small hops over moguls and I’m currently sat in La Chaudanne wine bar with a bottle of Bordeaux and so much good tapas.
I just want to share this happiness with the world. I’ve refound my mojo.