I am still a little awed by the entire day. I mean…. we spent the day on the slopes skiing in the Swiss Alps It’s positively unbelievable and incredible. Oh, and beautiful.
The day got off to a bumpy start when we found out that the ski school office had no record that Oliver from our hotel had signed the girls up for ski lessons. He’d done it months ago and confirmed it just yesterday. At Chamrousse, if you aren’t signed up well in advance for a peak week (which is any week that is a school vacation), then you are likely out of luck. So I was a little upset. Ok, a lot upset. But it all worked out. The woman at the ski school office acted like I was a crazed maniac and said she’d simply enroll the girls now. How simple. Then she kept saying that she’d enroll them in the ski garden. Which sounded stupid to me. But I couldn’t swear that Kaitlyn can stop while skiing. She said that if the ski garden is too easy for Kaitlyn, they’ll move her up. We got there (finally) and there isn’t even as much of a bunny slope as there is in the Pieu Pieu Club at home. So I was really getting worked up. I am not spending hundreds of francs (which equal who-knows-what in dollars) for her to goof around in the snow. As I told the woman at the office… she can do that at home for free. Well, she could if we had snow. That’s a minor technicality I left out of my mini-rant. In the end, we signed her up for the ski garden.
We got there and it was smaller than the Pieu Pieu Club… no butt lift… less of a hill to ski down… a disappointment. They told us that if she learns how to stop, they’ll move her up to the next level. Fine. I guess we’ll hope for that.
After dropping her off, we went back to the hotel to change into our ski boots and get our ski gear… skis, poles, helmets, goggles. Then we had to carry it all to the lift. About three blocks away. Up hill. Oh, and they don’t plow the roads in town all the way, so leave the crunching sound of snow as you walk. Or, as luck would have it, a lovely sheet of ice to maneuver. None of the hotels are exactly close to the lifts, so it’s not like I just goofed up. But it didn’t look that far on the map. And the map definitely didn’t point out that the trip is uphill. I am very lucky to have such a wonderful husband… because he carried my skis for me. Good thing; I’d have never made it!
At the base of the mountain there are two choices. A chairlift. Or a telepherique. Knowing my experience dangling from a cable in Chamonix, I was hesitant. But, Bill assured us that it was the best way to get to Middle Station… which is, as you’d think, mid-way up the mountain. First, I had to get on an escalator in my ski boots carrying my skis. That was a challenge, but I managed it. When I got onto the telepherique, I moved toward the middle and a spot where I could lean, grab and not see out. Once we started the climb I found out I wasn’t the biggest chicken on the thing. Our friend Carol (she and her husband and their twins are with us) was even more panicky than I was. Honestly, it wasn’t bad. Even going over the posts that always cause the dangling car to swing didn’t cause too much back and forth. I’d do that again.
We followed Bill’s advise on where to go next. There is a clump of blue runs that aren’t far from the telepherique stop. But you have to ski over to it on flat land. Which is hard work. Then we started down the first run. Well, Bill did. Carol and I stood at the top and just looked. This is one damn steep blue run. Ben? He hasn’t skied before, so he just stayed at the top where it was flat and goofed around with his skis. I finally mustered the nerve and started down the hill. It wasn’t as bad as it looked from the top.
The way back up is on a butt tow. It’s not like one I’ve done before. I’ve only ever done one at Chamrousse. It’s for one person at a time. This one is a two person butt tow. And even though there’s a bar just below your butt, you don’t sit down on it. It was weird. Not as weird as getting off. At the top of the tow, Bill said pull back on the bar we were leaning on and go to the right. I managed. Then I heard Carol yell what do I do? and I turned in time to see her go flying into a wooden ramp where the bars (and confused skiers) go before turning around and going back down the hill. The operator stopped the thing and helped her back up. She said the only thing hurt was her ego. We went down the same slope a few more times then decided it was time to eat lunch.
We went back to Middle Station and sat out in the sun eating pasta and soaking in the view. We could see the end of what looks to be a run there’s no way I’m getting on. It was fun to watch people get to the top of that and stop.. and look… then try to get down. No one had to snow plow down it. So I know for sure it isn’t for me.
This afternoon, Ben and I each had a lesson. Ben so he’d realize that skiing is not impossible. Me, so I can try to get better and eventually be able to ski with Bill on runs he thinks aren’t too easy. My instructor was an older Swiss guy named Chris. He started me off on a run that looked too steep and too narrow. But I went. And I did ok. The trick turns out to be: do what the instructor tells you to do. He knows what he’s talking about. We spent two hours going down runs that were, in my opinion, really steep. … and working on turning. Something I thought I was pretty good at. Turns out (ha ha) I had a lot to learn. He also showed me how to slide with my skis. It’s a much better way to get down a scary hill than to just snow plow your way down.
After two grueling hours of turning and sliding and a little bit of falling (twice… both times because I didn’t do what he said to do), I met Ben back at Middle Station. He was all smiles and felt much more confident that skiing is within the realm of possibilities. We got in line to take the telepherique back down and I realized that for it to go down, it would have to pass through a cement wall. Oops. We were in the line for the one to go all the way to the tippy top of the mountain. At least we realized it before we went to the tippy top of the mountain.
On the ride down, I again stationed myself in a spot to lean and not look out. I heard a family in front of me talking and realized they weren’t just speaking English… they were speaking American English. So I just had to say something to them. They’re living in Germany right now. It was a nice little chat about life as an ex-pat.
The walk back down the icy hill wearing ski boots and carrying skis was even harder than the walk up in the morning. Ben offered to carry my skis for me, but since he hadn’t carried Carol’s this morning, I felt guilty and turned down the offer of help. At long last, we made it back to the hotel.
I know I planned a vacation at a ski resort for a week of skiing. But if I don’t take a day off sometime, I may not be able to walk when we get back home!
You have so much more fortitude than I did about skiing. You recall my one experience wtih skis, when I slid down into a “hole” around a tree, and couldn’t get out. I took off the skis, carried them back to the rental desk, and that was it. You’re doing much much better, congratulations!