TIGNES WHITEOUT - DAY 4

 
Snow blew down the mountain and across the valley.  My balcony was beginning to cover in snow.  The chair I sat on in the mornings was, for the first time, covered in a thin layer of ice.  Small icicles had started to grown on the underside of it's white plastic frame.  I cold feel the chill and the looming force of the low white sky.  It was heavy with wind and wild weather.  But it was not the time to get back into my bed and reach for the thick blanket.  It was time to muster up, mount and head out onto the hills.


Day 4 began with 60mph winds, and visibility no better than the next ski chair, horrible dangling in the alpine gust.  So outrageous is the weather here than even the most experienced ski mountaineer becomes slave to mother nature, whippering and cowering in anger.  The spin drift grew at the top, and the tornado force spirit of the almighty wind kicked up the wave like powder snow 4o feet into the air.

We clipped up our bindings and gripped our ski poles.  This is no weather for softies.  Get the goggles down and ratchet up your buffs and for god sake keep an eye on those beautiful guiding poles.  We must get down this first run alive.  10 metres from the top of the Tigues lift, at La Daile, we were somewhat lost, losing all orientation, skiing into a large dome.  'Where the hell are you going?' I shouted to Spark, 'the mountain goes the other way.'  'Follow the lift man, the lift!' He crashed into the deep off piste power and fought hard to climb himself out of the deepening snow.

We skied and boarded but I could not tell the difference between sky and snow.  I was going fast but I felt like I was standing still.  A second later I was up in the air, spun around, and the back of my head went - SMACK!  I got up, with a bite of my tongue and shook my head.  I pulled a finger from my glove and followed it back and fourth across my line of sight, good I thought, no concussion.  We can ski, the blood clot can wait another day!

This was our first run of the Day, down into the Tigues valley. Casualties everywhere.  Snowboarders on splints, mountain rescue pulling sledges with what looked like dead people inside body bags.  Boots pointing to the sky - protruding from the ends.  I would not want to be alive going down hill in that thing, I though.  It was at this point I decided to concentrate on getting to the bottom.  'Down there, down there!'.  'I see it, I see it.'  We found the way to the bottom.  What fun.

More lifts were taken to the top of a red, then a black, a red, a blue, too slow, a black, whoops, too much too much.  We were glad when a lift had a blast shield, shelter from the storm.  Get the gloves off, more fruit pastels, give me the damn coffee!!!  Re-energised we skied on. Stopping for hot chocolates and beers now and then.  But alas this would be our only day on Tigues, the mountain took her from us.  With her avalanches and blanket snow.  'Who's the boss now?' She says, and we must wait like good little boys, with bumps and bruises, to ski another day.

Peace,


Dan