walk the dog

The holiday season is drawing to a close so I thought that I’d take Chester for a walk seeing as the weather was so warm and sunny. The pistes would be packed and the snow not that pleasant in the afternoon, but I needed to be out in the open air.

For ages I had thought of walking out onto the ridge that juts above the village to see how much of a view there was both up and down the valley, so I did just that. After ten days or so of clear weather the snow on the sunny side of the valley had nearly all melted away, making the going easy. Hardly a cloud in the sky and a light breeze warmed by the sun baked ground made for a very pleasant afternoon. I set off, comfortably warm in just a Tee shirt and jeans though mindful of rapidly changing weather in the mountains. I wasn’t going far.

There had been much discussion one evening last week, when several new guests arrived, of an amazing fire on the mountain side. We had looked out at the time and could see nothing of it from the chalet, but hidden from view, a vast tract of hillside had been scorched black from a controlled burn that had obviously gotten out of control. Amazingly, with the warm weather and moist soil, small green shoots were already beginning to appear. I suppose that they burn off the old, dry vegetation to let more light in and also to minimise the risk of summer fires which would cause much more damage. At least the snow brought the inferno to a halt this time.

My path took me across a blackened section of hillside on a vaguely horizontal trajectory, I wasn’t sure whether I needed to be higher or lower than my starting point to hit the top of the ridge, so I followed the sheep tracks, rising slightly, in preparation for enlightenment around the next corner. Or not, as it happened. It took rounding another couple of headlands before the ridge came into view below me, the sunny side partially scorched by the fire or struggling to become green again in the spring sunshine, larger patches of snow on the level higher ground, interspersed with a smattering of bushes, pine forest further out and the green valley in the distance. Clusters of tiny houses with obligatory spire, spread out well below the snowline, the occasional remote farmhouse, joined by a network of roads all in miniature. I suppose in times gone by they were constructed at a spacing that allowed easy working of the land without the luxury of modern machinery. One can only imagine how remote life in such a valley must have been before the invention of the motor car. Even the railway stops several miles away down the valley in Arreau. It would have been a decent horse ride away even to the nearest market town, let alone out of the valley and onto the plains towards Toulouse. I suppose the vast majority of people never even saw a town, never mind a city. Now folk drive here or fly from other countries to ski, walk or enjoy the scenery during their leisure time and think nothing of it. The hills and fields and majority of buildings remaining just as they were in times gone by.

The view of the mountains into the distance was stupendous, I could just about make out a neighbouring ski resort in the distance, mainly from the glint of reflective sunlight bouncing off cars rather than anything distinctively visible on the landscape. That was just one tiny point in a scene that stretched for miles and miles and miles, the rest a range of snowy peaks stretching out further than the eye could see, all the way to the mediterranean sea. Closer to hand, on the opposite side of my little valley, the recent village of Plat d’Adet, built to house the explosion of fashionable ski visitors back in the 50’s and now looks like some concrete monstrosity lowered onto the snow from an alien land, sits on its own headland linked to the village by cable cars and lifts. I wonder how they’d approach building a new village today, it definitely wouldn’t be allowed to look like that.

Chester and I rounded the upper part of the ridge in an attempt to look up the other side. One of our neighbours, a ski instructor, had said that it was possible to ski down to a village there, so I was interested to see what it looked like. We started to cross a massive patch of snow that continued right round onto the shadier side of the hill, our footprints a telltale indication of our route, going was tough as the icy crust frequently gave way into powdery snow underneath, I really should have prepared myself with racquets (if I had known).

We never got to see the ski route, the valley was huge and the view partially obscured by trees. The whole of the shady side was covered in thick snow with the odd bush protruding and impressive rocky peaks in the distance. After persevering for a while I decided that we needn’t go any further so we turned and headed down hill towards our original destination. Out across the grassy open ridge with clear views both up and down the valley, the sun was warm and the slight breeze filled with the summer scents of warmed heather and earth. There were lines of fence posts, their wires dropped to the ground for the winter protection and probably to allow wildlife free reign over the mainly frozen landscape, there were plenty of tracks to indicate their presence.

A tall signpost with several directional panels showed us the official options of routes from the ridge. I knew the names of the villages, but was surprised to see that I had discovered another section of the GR10. I had always imagined that it stayed in the high mountains here, but no, it obviously descended into the valley and so passed much closer to the chalet than I had expected. GR stands for Grande Route or major trail, one of the more famous hiking tracks in france, it stretches the length of the pyrenees from atlantic to mediterranean. There are many GR’s crisscrossing the country, one, the GR36 passes the property in Beauregard that I hope to buy.

Back to the walk, before i get too distracted. We descend far enough down along the ridge to see most of the village from a height, skirting more burnt pasture above the line of the fence. I decide that the sun may be well off the valley by the time we return, so, after a break to take in the view, reflect and rest for a sort while, we head back up the ridge towards the chalet. It’s not a steep climb, but enough to keep me on the warm side of comfortable. I daydream of beaches and sunshine and walking on the sand and realise that the sensation that I desire is to be barefoot. Momentarily I think it’s a stupid idea, just a pleasant thought to save for a summers day then I decide to give it a try. Will the ground be too cold? or the rocks too sharp? or the mud too slippery? will my feet grip or my toes get frostbite? There was only one way to find out. Chester didn’t bat an eyelid, he was too busy following the scent of some small creature or bounding off to eat snow to cool down.

The ground was surprisingly warm underfoot, the rocks were little different to the sand or stones on a beach, fairly comfortable to walk on and not that sharp, the grass, silky smooth and slippery, with the overall sensation being one of freedom, it felt wonderfully liberating and natural. It was amazing that the change in one small detail of clothing could make such a difference to a walk in the hills. I walked all the way back to the chalet barefoot, through streams, across patches of snow, on warm earth, smooth grass and probably the occasional cow pat. It was a wonderful hour or so. even in the shade, where the temperature plummeted, my feet didn’t seem to get that cold, it was great.

I don’t think I shall leave it that long again to walk barefoot. It may be bucking the norm, but thats nothing new from where I stand. It was a great experience, a new found freedom and if I remember rightly from something I read a while back, an excellent cerebral conditioner. Barefoot walking on rough terrain stimulates millions of nerve transmissions to the brain that in turn reignite areas of grey matter that remain dormant when wearing shoes. Anything to keep some activity going on upstairs must be a good thing. I’ll let you know in good time.

progress with a ruin

Where do I start? Everyone is excited about the little ruin in Beauregard, but nothing much seems to be coming to fruition.

I have recently discovered, through a friend of my last helpX host last year, that the estate agent was not exactly telling the truth. Brigitte, whom I stayed with last November wrote to me asking how things were going and said that one of her good friends was also a friend of the Mayor of Beauregard and could she do anything to help with the purchase.

To start with I thought that all was proceeding fine, then I thought that it would be good to check the details that the agent had provided. Thankfully I did, as all is not as I had been lead to believe. There is no electricity or water supplied to the site, I had been told that it would be financed by the town and all I would have to do is pay for connection. In fact, there is no finance and I will have to pay for the whole instillation.

I am currently writing to the relevant utility agencies to get estimates or quotes for the instillation of a supply of water and of electricity. The closest electricity supply I found last time I visited was 185 metres away. No one can tell me where the nearest water pipes are. Various costs have been banded about, although without substantiation, so I am waiting patiently for the correct business to supply me with the details.

It takes a while, firstly to find out which business deals with what, to then translate their websites, download or print the forms, complete them, before sending them off, often via the town hall for a mayoral stamp of approval. I have done several already, only to be contacted to be told that they are not, in fact, the correct agency, and I should reapply to another department or business. The town hall has been incredibly helpful and has answered all my email enquiries promptly and with all the information I have requested. Most of the companies too, are helpful, although, as everything is so fragmented here I still have to find the correct offices to obtain the figures that I require. Patience is ever necessary and thankfully I have been fully occupied here in the mountains for the duration of this time consuming exercise.

So the fact that my contact at the agency was off sick for nearly two months has made absolutely no difference to the speed in which things are progressing. Thankfully she was, otherwise I may not have discovered these facts in time and may already be in possession of a building that I cannot afford to connect to the electricity or water supply. We are looked after in mysterious ways and I give thanks for whatever force it was that has controlled these events so far.

I remain hopeful that all will come right, though more cautious and also prepared for other outcomes. If connection to the utilities proves too expensive then it is not the property for me. Searching again for ruins and plots of land on the internet is fun and interesting and so far has confirmed that the ruin at Beauregard may well be good value for money. Fingers crossed as ever.

the holidays

Live here is at a hectic pace now that the school holidays are upon us. The chalet is full to capacity most of the time with frequent changes of guests for over three weeks. It becomes challenging to match faces to rooms when folk order from the bar without asking their names the whole time, challenging to clean and change rooms as guests come and go, challenging to keep up with potato peeling for chips for all the lunches we are selling now, challenging to process the laundry fast enough to keep up with demand and challenging to keep everything as it should be.

I love being busy, don’t get me wrong, I have thoroughly enjoyed the quiet times skiing and getting lost in a good book, but this is great. A constantly full house of people enjoying their holidays, tired from skiing all day and eating good food every night. Listening to their stories and hearing about where they come from. I am always amazed at how far people will drive for a few days skiing. Many guests this week are coming from Bordeaux or further north, all the way up to Brittany, frequently driving eight or more hours each way. With the autoroutes here, driving isn’t a chore like it is back in the UK, rather easy in fact, although, unfortunately you pay for the luxury as the majority of the motor way network is privately owned.

We have had doctors and farmers, tourist office managers and lawyers, a podiatrist magician and a heavy plant driver, teachers and hoteliers all staying within the last week. Groups of friends with children, families and single parents with kids of all ages, all determined to enjoy the mountains. It’s almost imperative that children learn to ski here and for these few weeks the slopes are smattered with snakes of ski school classes following one of a seemingly never ending supply of instructors across the snow. Parents often invest in ski school for their offspring so that they can spend at least some of their time enjoying the slopes too. It’s great chatting to these people and getting some little insight into their lives, the diversity is astounding, I think that I prefer working through the day and having the time to dine properly amongst the guests, everyone eats together here on long tables, all mixed in together, its great. It makes for a busy day, although I seem to be fully occupied with helping out whatever shift I do at the moment.

Whatever the shift, my lunchtimes are usually spent in the kitchen with Mark. A good team, he occupies himself with the complicated menu items and lets me get on with the rest, burgers, BLT’s, salads, desserts and endless chips. It can be hellish frantic one day and no one the next, which makes it very difficult to prep and plan. Demand seems to be governed by the weather, too cold or cloudy and there are just less people on the mountains, sunny blue sky days and folk stay on the mountain all day, suffering the queues at the mountain fooderies or sitting out on rocky outcrops with a picnics. The ideal, for us is cold and sunny with enough cloud cover to make it uncomfortably cold to sit out for too long. That sends people in search of warming locations to lunch and they often stay a good length of time to get thoroughly reheated before heading off again.

life in the mountains

Andy, ready for another powder run

snow cannons blowing snow so fine that it looks like a forest fire

Fresh snow and icicles outside the chalet

The first time it has been possible to ski right back to the front door this season

It has continued snowing for several days now and the bare, green mountain sides are a thing of the past for a while. I hope the sheep made it safely back to their winter shelter. The temperature has plummeted, as it has everywhere in europe, down to a daytime high of -8°C and night times lows nearing -20°C. Now that the clouds have passed, the visibility is excellent and the whole region is blanketed in snow. Some guests due to arrive for dinner (7.30pm) last night eventually made it up the mountain at nearly 11pm. They had used their snow chains since way down in the valley and were still slipping all over the place.

Skiing has been great fun, on piste, off piste and anywhere else that has looked tempting. Its been great fun with Andy although I was so cold that I had to stop early. He just looks over a ridge and tips over, planning his route as he goes, a bit of a view is enough, and with the depth of powder, little chance of coming a cropper. Exhilarating.

Overnight the wind has picked up and chilled everything to the bone. So cold in fact that the central heating oil became so sticky in the pipes within the boiler room that the heating stopped working. The resort didn’t open and most of the loose snow has now been blown off the tops, huge squalls of icy cloud blasting down the mountain, skin stingingly cold, bringing what little traffic there is to a complete standstill.

Half an hour with a blowlamp on the chilly pipes and the heating burst into life again, Holes blocked and pipes further lagged, the frozen washing prized out of the machine drum and crumpled into the drier, the washer then refusing to work some more until the water supply thaws. All the paths that I cleared yesterday into neat gulleys through the drifts need clearing again. Nothing like a bit of energetic work to get well warmed through. I was much more toasty outside that I could have been inside the cool chalet.

Lets see what happens with temperatures forecast to stay low and more snow on the way tomorrow. Perhaps the winds will drop and some of the snow will stay for longer this time. Its great to stay snug indoors in front of the fire and spend some time doing very little. Full after a great Thai curry lunch and only seven guests to look after this evening.

cold, cold, cold

worth the wait

a rare glimpse of sunshine and a view......

all covered in snow

heading back for more

On occasions it was difficult to decide which way was up as I attempted my first day of powder skiing of the season. It had snowed a bit during the night and much harder early in the morning. I spent a couple of hours clearing around guests cars and a path across the terrace before breakfast, my earlier efforts almost completely refilled by the time I stopped. Now I am attempting to rediscover the joys of fresh snow, it is more challenging than I remember.

The light is flat and visibility is minimal through the driving snow, I recall that scary whiteout day last year and promise myself that I will head in before it gets too bad and continue with my efforts. The snow is knee deep even on the ‘bashed’ runs, increasing in places to nearly waist deep in places. No chance of watching your skis when it’s like this, just head down hill slowly, leaning back in the vane hope of lifting the front of the skis high enough to ride the powder whilst changing direction as gently as possible to minimise spillages.

Fallen over again, completely immersed in snow, not quite sure what I am doing wrong but face planting in such deep snow doesn’t hurt, it’s just a struggle to get back up again, as everything gives. You can’t push yourself up as its all too soft, the trick, I guess, is to maneuver yourself over your skis before standing straight up onto them again, reaching deep down into the snow with a pole until it hits harder ground below. It’d be nigh on impossible to find a ski if you lost one in conditions like these. I hope that I don’t.

Further down the slope I join a more used part of the piste which is all churned up but much easier to ski. Previously used techniques work better on the more solid surface although it is proving challenging for many people and there are more people on the ground than normal. Amazingly there is an atmosphere of fun, I can hear people laughing and shouting out to each other, obviously enjoying the challenge, visibility is a bit better too, good enough to see folk moving at all speeds through the snow, some tumbling and falling, arms, legs and skis at all angles, quickly getting up again, full of smiles, ready to go again. I stop for a few moments to watch a group drop gracefully down the opposite side of the valley hoping to learn a trick or two, before heading on down to the lift again.

Unlike other days, it is a joy to sit down and rest on the way back up the mountain, usually the runs are over so fast and effortlessly the ride back up is a bit of a drag. Not today, I am not as fit as I like to imagine and am using different muscles in my legs to normal. It’s good to take a break. Surprisingly, sat on a chairlift in the driving snow I am as warm as toast, the effort is contributing well and the two extra layers are almost unnecessary, the balaclava, however is worth its weight in gold, keeping the snow from going down my neck and my chin and nose warm. On the way up I hope that my estate agent is well again soon and hope that things will start to proceed with my house soon. I try planning how to install the hot water system but it's not even worth considering today, it's skiing and snow and that is all that is important when you seize the day.

Here we go again, I keep trying to get to another run, but each time I get to the top I have a huge urge to return to the same slope. Eventually it’ll work like a dream, so I try again. I must remember how those people were skiing when I watched them earlier. Over the edge, looking into the distance, putting more weight on the back of the skis than I thought possible and wow. It works, I gain speed and transfer my weight to turn, gently, gently, so as not to cause too much disturbance and around I go, level up and back the other way, gently yet firmly, I turn the other way, catch the rythm and bounce down the slope. Thats the feeling, thats how it needs to be done. I gather speed, snow sprays up from time to time, stinging my face as I carve a deep serpenting line down the slope. It’s dark again. I did something and am now stationary and buried in snow. Light filters through so I can tell which way is up, I move my legs to check that all is intact and I still have both my skis, all present and correct. I struggle to get the right way up against the soft giving snow, resting for a minute or two to get my breath before continuing, exhilaration, wonder, amazement. The clouds clear and I glance up the mountain to see my traces in the snow, I have covered a decent distance and my tracks look great.

Back on my feet and moving again, I’ve rediscovered the magic that is powder skiing, it’s such a different sensation to regular skiing, almost silent and perhaps in slow motion, it’s difficult to explain but wonderful to do. I recall how the mountain falls away below me and head for another area where I know there’ll be deep powder, I cross a major thoroughfare, adjusting my technique for the differing terrain, keeping a lookout through the murky air for other skiers and off down a side track. To the left there is a steep drop that will take me back to the lift, I tip over the edge, fairly slowly and choose my path, the snow is still falling yet I can see further than I have done in a while, choosing my route down a pristine slope to the left, slowly, to the right, slowly, no sudden movements, be definite and flowing, there, what a sensation, that’s what it’s all about and on, and on, tracks ahead, I make a mistake and think about what’ll happen when I cross them, too late, I’m over again, deep in the snow. well wrapped up, the only part of me exposed is my nose, which gets more of a chill, though, as I reach upright again, a large chill slides down into the back of my trousers, coming to rest right where I’ll rediscover it later as I sit on the lift. For the moment it melts a bit then seems to stay away, leaving me to continue downhill, ignoring tracks and managing to stay upright. This is energetic skiing and I am loving every minute of it.

And out onto the relative flat of the piste and relax. Not too much at its bumpy as ever, with plenty of other skiers adjusting to the new conditions. I continue down to the lift and spot the outline of a figure I know. Its Andy, I ski alongside him on his board and he turns to see who is so close, grinning from ear to ear, I know he has had the time of his life this morning too, just by his expression. We stop by the lifts and exchange stories, I was right, he’s used the mountain to the max and is loving every moment of this new snow that we’ve waited for for so long. He helps in the chalet too and grew up near the mountains of California, so is well accustomed to such conditions. I can only imagine where he’s been, and the scrapes on the bottom of his board show that it’s probably been a more hairy ride than mine has so far. We part company, aiming to meet back at the chalet for lunch and continue with the mornings entertainment. Is there too much of a good thing? I hope not.

its going to be like this tomorrow!

now waiting

I now have a bank account, arranged from a tiny branch in the village which opens for two mornings a week. The bank are in the process of ‘improving’ their service by incorporating a secure foyer for customers, probably so that all banking can be done automatically, so the facilities were even more reduced than normal. I now have to wait until my cashpoint card arrives through the post before I can invest any money in the account, the part time staff do not even have counter cash facilities during the renovation so I have to make another appointment to be shown how to use my cash card. Exciting.

On the house front, after the flurry of activity last week I sent off all my details, followed by my new account details for the notaire, all has gone quiet. I heard back yesterday, from a colleague, that my estate agent is off sick and will be out of action for at least two weeks. They did not tell me whether anyone else would be covering the transaction or that I would have to wait. I have sent wishes for a speedy recovery via the office and a request that someone else continues the process.

Here at the chalet all is quiet. There are eleven guests, an overspill from the hostel down the road that is filled to capacity with over ninety school children. Ours only sleep here, they leave before breakfast and return to change at the end of the day before heading off, down the road to eat with everyone else. They are quiet and well behaved and we have the place to ourselves for most of the week again. Unfortunately we are still waiting on some new snow. About two inches has fallen since my arrival before Christmas and the hillside is becoming more and more green.

Yesterday I spotted a flock of sheep way up on the hillside above the chalet, an area usually blanketed in snow for the whole season. Incredibly, most guests have been in good spirits and content with the amount of skiing that have been able to do. Conditions are getting rather icy in places and thin in others, although the resort manages to produce an impressive quantity of artificial snow and the majority of pistes remain open and enjoyably skiable. Temperatures are dropping and the forecast is for cloud, rain and snow over the coming weekend so we have our fingers crossed and will be ready for some early morning starts should the snow ploughs be out in force before daybreak in the next few days.

I have promised Moira, a dear friend of mine, that I will do a red run for her. I keep trying them out, but think that new snowfall is needed before I can give it sufficient energy and emotion to do it justice. Waiting patiently for the moment......