Last week when we were getting some snow, I convinced Bill to take today off to go skiing while Kaitlyn is at school… since Monday she eats at the canteen. (cafeteria) We managed to convince her that it was ok to go to school while Mommy and Daddy go skiing. Ok, yes, I did tell her it was a special Mommy-and-Daddy-no-kids-allowed day at the mountain. And we plugged her full of Advil for her ear ache and made her doctor appointment for after school. Then, we were off. Or, I guess, up.
We got to Chamrousse and it was not only cold, but it was windy. Really, really windy. Which made it even colder.
There was a fresh coating of snow on the pistes. But the wind was blowing it off in spots, revealing big patches of ice. So you’d ski from a mound of powder onto a sheet of ice back into a mound of powder. And the wind was blowing so hard that on the slopes that aren’t steep there was absolutely no reason to turn back and forth across the run… the wind slowed you down just fine. It brought our friend to an absolute stop at one point.
The wind was so strong that a lot of the lifts weren’t even running. A fact we didn’t realize when we got onto the high-speed six-person lift we usually use. It was bad enough that we were swaying back and forth in the wind… but about half way up, it stopped. Not the nice, slow stop a lift makes when an operator stops it because someone has fallen. A sudden, immediate stop… an emergency stop… because of the wind. I swear to you our chair slid back somewhat, then swung back and forth far more than I’d like. I guess to calm me down, Bill said be glad we aren’t up there. Two chairs ahead, the riders were on ride through Hell. The chair was dipping way, way, WAY down then bouncing up… and swinging… and swaying. I swear I heard the people behind us scream, too.
Needless to say, that was our last ride on that lift for the day.
We got off and skied right to the lodge for cups of hot cocoa and French fries. (mid-morning snack of champions) A woman was trying desperately to get the waiter to tell her where the bathroom is. He had no idea what she was saying. So, I piped up and said toilettes, which he understood. But she had no idea what he was saying when he gave her directions, so again I chimed in with at the bottom of the stairs. The man in the booth next to me, who’d been speaking French with his friend, said now you have a translator. Me. A translator. A few minutes later, she was back and asking the waiter for milk for her coffee. He actually turned and looked at me for help. Lait. I felt silly… as if I can actually assist someone with their French. I shrugged and explained that when it comes to ordering, I have it figured out.
After our hot chocolate, we decided to try a little more skiing. Minus that six person lift. I even told Bill to go without me, but he didn’t. It was too windy and too icy. One run we tried would have been better done with skates than skis. So by 1:00, we were headed back down the mountain.
Oh, well. We’ll try again Saturday…. we signed Kaitlyn up for another lesson.
When Bobby and I travel in London, for whatever reason people come up to us asking for directions. We must look like we have answers. Thus, you must look like you have answers in French, which apparently you did. Congratulations!!
My daughter on a chair swinging in the wind. Now there’s something I didn’t expect. Nor did she, no doubt.