The snow remained pretty much everywhere from that morning on. I left later that day for a week in the UK, fully prepared to return to a damp grey valley, how wrong I was. It had continued to snow sporadically throughout the week and as I returned to the mountains became increasingly worried about retrieving Percy from his mountain hideaway so that we could continue our travels. Way down at 500m there were mounds of snow on the sides of the roads, evidence that the snow ploughs had been out already. Further into the mountains, climbing, there was more snow than I could remember from previous years when arriving at the start of the ski season. Now, there was another month to go and it looked like a midwinter scene. The tiny road up to Barrancoueu, Pierre’s village, was clear, just, with deep snow everywhere around, it was odd to see the poor trees struggling under thick coats of snow, still clinging on to their autumn leaves and fields that had been vibrant green not that long ago transformed into a black and white wonderland. Time to get out there and enjoy.
|all covered in snow|
|a good bit of insulation!!|