Monestry of Montserrat...

Whilst perusing the various TripAdvisor posts and 'Best Picks' of Barcelona the usual attractions kept popping up. Segrada Familia, Badelona Beaches, Barri Gotic and of course the numerous museums dedicated to Gaudi, Picasso and Miro. But in between all the usual was this unusual sounding place, Montserrat.

Turns out Montserrat isn't in Barcelona, but an hours drive away inland. The various tours headed out that way were a bit pricey, but with the freedom of our van we couldn't resist going to have a look.

The word Montserrat became instantly clear as we drove along the auto-via headed West from Barcelona. Saw Mountain is a peculiar looking mountain with a silhouette of sharp teeth like a saw. It was strange because I'm accustomed to mountains being in a range. But this one, nope. Just smack bang in the middle of nowhere.

Montserrat in all its glory

After a few wrong turns and some VERY steep climbs that the Smurf Mobile struggled with, we finally reached the town of Monsterrat. A relatively small town dominated by the Basilica and clutched in between tall, column like rock formations. Millions of years ago this area was under a very large river bed. The mixed sedimentary rock that formed because of the river deposits was then eroded away over time leaving the harder rocks behind, giving the mountain its distinct serrated silhouette and weird, tubular rocks separated by tall thin channels.

The Basilica at Montserrat is basically a great big church that holds the image of the Virgin Mary. Legend has it that in the year 888 AD a group of children saw a bright light in the sky plunge in to the mountain. A week later the same event happened but this time the children's parents witnessed the spectacle. A search party was launched to find out what the light was/had done. An image of the Virgin Mary was found at the top of the mountain but all efforts to bring the relic down from the mountain was thwarted. Divine intervention. So it was decided that pilgrims would have to travel up the mountain to worship her.

Now I am in no way religious. I do, however, have a weird and encompassing fascination on all religions methods and especially their wealth.

Arriving at the Monestry shortly before 1pm we ran up to the basilica to catch a glimpse of the oldest Boy's Choir in the world. The place was heaving with people pushing and bustling to get in to the building. Big signs clearly stated that the use of flash photography was forbidden yet thousands of white pulses shot off every second as the boys started singing. There were too many people and Kerry and I had to leave for fear of being suffocated. The singing was nice but the fresh air when we got out was even nicer.

Whilst wandering around the fairly small town we noticed little paths leading off from the main square and up through a sculpted garden. Turns out there's a variety of walks ranging from a 20 minute stroll to an hour and a half hike to the top where the lady was found.

Not feeling very strenuous we opted for the shortest walk which took in 13 different Christ associated monument things. A nice walk.

We passed some time looking around but the town was just a few hotels and shops to accommodate the pilgrims. We were waiting for 6pm when there was due to be another rendition by the boys choir. We got in to the Basilica just before 6 and had to sit through an hour of Spanish preaching by one of the 100 Benedictine monks that live at the Monestry. Then out stroll the other 99 monks and start singing. It was't the boys choir but the senior choir! Well we didn't stay long. A bunch of old blokes singing. I want to hear cherub like boys.

So we made a hasty exit, only to notice that the 3 hour queue for the Virgin Mary had been reduced to nothing. We went through the side of he basilica and through some old corridors until we were upfront with the image herself.

Apparently you must touch the globe she is holding in her right hand whilst also holding out your right hand to receive her blessing. I didn't do that.

Being in Montserat was weird for me. In the middle of no-where there's a huge, weird shaped mountain with a small town and people praying to an image of the Virgin Mary. Which was really just a statue that someone made, not found. The whole thing sounds bizarre yet its happening, right now. I find it hard to understand religion, yet up here theres a whole industry about it and this statue.

By the time we walked back down the hill we were some of the last people remaining. Most of the tour busses and coaches had gone and it was nice and peaceful. What was going to be a 10 minute drive down to the bottom of the mountain soon turned in to an hour an a half trek to our next destination... Santa Suzanna, Costa Brava!

Fun in the sun in Barcelona...

Whilst getting up at 10am everyday and lounging on the beach in Gava is appealing, its nice to hit the city and  get some partying done.

My memory of Razzmatazz, a nightclub, was one of bright lights, loud music, getting lost and a 70 Euro McDonalds bill at 5 in the morning. So I was determined to go back for more debauchery!

Kerry was keen to go and see what all the hype was about and we caught the bus in to town late evening knowing that the Spaniards are usually waking up when us Brits are normally eating dinner. Everything seems to be 4 or 5 hours behind. The club only opens at 2am! 

We strolled around and indulged in some tasty Ice cream made in a 'laboratory' in the back with big glass windows so you could see it being made. I couldn't resist trying the Marijuana flavoured one which went well with pistachio and mint. It had a subtle but definitely weedy type taste. 

 We grabbed a few drinks before walking across town to the more industrial side and consequently Razzmatazz. Its basically 5 warehouses all joined together by overhead walkways and rooftop alleys. 

There were only 3 of the 5 warehouses open with DJs playing some interesting Euro-stomp type electro music in the main room. It was a quality night which If I'm honest I can't remember much of! It was only when we got out at 7am that we remembered the long walk back to the main square, Placa Catalunya, and had to sit on a 20 minute bus ride with that mornings commuters while we got groggier and groggier.

Finally getting back just before 9am we were grateful for our bed and collapsed in the van for the rest of the day.

One day whilst walking through the Parc de la Cuitadella we came across this type of festival with water activities for the kids, music on a stage and all sorts of Catalan traditions like 'giant' people made out of papier mache walking around and a group who were building a human tower.

Walking around the park we came across a group of 4 or 5 African guys playing on their native drums, just casually. Kerry and I sat down on the grass to listen at about 4pm. There was probably about another 20 people appreciating the music and chilling out around the drummers. 

Then an amazing thing happened. Over the next 5 hours the number of drummers nearly doubled and were joined by tambourines, didgeridoos, maracas and castonnettes. The music never stopped for more than a minute between 'songs' if you can call the improvised music that. 

The crowd swelled to well over 400. Of all ages, nationalities and ethnicities. It was amazing. The atmosphere was electric, there were people up and dancing, singing. The African dancers would get the attention of a drummer and then they would kind of 'battle' with each other, one dancing, the other drumming. But they seemed to know when the other was going to move/drum. I'd learnt about the dances they did on TV years ago. They were imitating the animals that they would encounter in Africa with big bold moves like a big cat, or an angry wildebeest.

Kerry and I sat there until 9 o'clock, totally awestruck by this impromtue performance. It was so organic and spontaneous. 

The drummers and dancer were so passionate about their culture. They displayed it with their music with so much vivacity I began to think what traditions we have in England? How would we show off our culture in a park in a foreign country? Strap on some bells and do a moris dance? Drink ourselves in to a drunken stupor on a Friday? Cripple ourselves with as much debt as we can?

Barcelona city and our History tour...

Our trips in to Barcelona are very pleasant. Not rushed as when I have previously visited a major city. Nice and relaxed, knowing we had an indefinate(ish) amount of time. 

Having been to Barcelona, and generally a few European cities before, I knew the importance of getting a jist for the sights and attractions on the first day. My previous visit was primarily to see Barcelona FC vs Valencia in a football match with 'the lads'. An annual ritual that ensued in copious amounts of drinking and being hungover. On the last day of our 4 day trip we took the open topped 'Bus Turistica' only to find we had discovered about 5% of the city and only around our hostel!

View from the top of Monjuic towards Placa Espanya

So after a morning of ambling aimlessly down La Rambla I thought we better get on the tourist trail and attend a walking tour. Something I've found to be very informative and educational in other countries. We grabbed a 'free' one from the 'Travel Bar' just a short distance from the main street.

The tour was great. Everyone of the 6 or so couples in attendance were from totally different ends of the earth. And our guide, Hannah, was Finnish of all nationalities! She took us on a brilliant tour of the Barri Gotica (Gothic Quarter) to the east of La Rambla. Her knowledge was second to none. My world renound lengthy and probing questions were met with concise and relevant answers and afterwards she sat with us in a bar and answered all the other questions I had on Barcelona and where to go. For a Finnish bird she sure knew her Barcelona!

Ceramic 'dolia' vessels for holding garium (Fish sauce)

The history of the city fascinates me. How it was swelled over the years from something barely the size of a small hamlet to the vast, sprawling metropolis it is now. There are remnants of the old city walls and buildings that, unless you were told about them, would just be walked past as if they were any old building.

The History museums of Barcelona and the separate museum of Catalunia were an excellent way to enjoy the last Sunday of the month. Turns out they're free then as well!

The History of Barcelona museum occupies just a small building in the center of the old Gothic Quater but once in the lift a digital clock counts down the years from 2013 to 0013 and you walk out to a maze of excavated ruins 5 metres below the present day city.

Tank stained by cobalt whilst dyeing fabrics

Walking around you can see the old city wall along one edge next to a road and small courtyards dotted around where giant egg-like ceramic vessels called dolia were set in to the pavement to store garium. Garium was a popular sauce made from fish and salt that was mushed up together and left to ferment for a bit. Doesn't sound very nice to me!

Further along the now underground city remains we walked through to a building full of large tanks dyed all different colours from the materials used to colour fabrics including bleaching them with urine!

Dolia were used to hold pretty much anything liquid including bigger ones that were red from the wine that street sellers sold their stock out of. Next to them were miniature sized ones that held seas salt and honey to be mixed in with the wine.

We walked through the pre-historic ages in the History Museum of Catalunia, located down near the new harbour area. It was amazing to see how, as times moved on, a piece of flint the size of a tennis ball had 10cm of cutting edge which had grown to nearly 2 metres a few thousand years later.

It was interesting to see contraptions that were made before electricity or even steam power was around. I was especially engrossed in this simple device used to bring water up from a well to irrigate the farmers crops. An animal, usually a mule or donkey, would walk around the well (demonstrated by me) and turn the set of cogs what lifted a set of cups strung together to reach down in to the well. The cups deposit the water in to the trough at the front which trickles down in to the fields

Barcelona is an amazing city with loads of history to offer. I just wish it had moved on from the olden times a little with respect to pick pockets. They are everywhere and you can't stop to look at a map or a piece of architecture without instantly grabbing every pocket to check the contents are still there. 

Gavamar - Our basecamp for Barcelona...

We've made it down to Barcelona. The drive from Girona was pleasant as we took the coast road (N-11) pretty much all the way.

The driving when we got to Barcelona! Jeez! I was taking wrong turn after wrong turn before cutting up 8 lanes to get to the next wrong turn. It was nuts. All while Kerry is quizzing me on when the Sagrada Familia was started!

But the sat nav wasn't taking us to Barcelona. We were given an ACSI Camping Card by a very nice motorhoming couple back in Le Boulou, France. It is a Dutch scheme where you purchase the book and receive a card that entitles you to discounted camping rates at 20, 000+ sites costing either 12, 14 or 16 Euros per night per van with 2 people. The couple were so nice and I think they made our card using a photocopier and thick card but it looks relatively authentic. It does, however, get some level of scrutiny at the 3 Estrella campsite where we are staying.

The chap on reception commented "oh, another new style card" in a thick Spanish accent as we checked in on the first day.

The campsite is situated in a small town just outside Barcelona called Gava. Backing on to the perfect beach it has everything you could want. Proper showers and toilets, laundry facilities, internet, swimming pool, supermarket, bar ... the works. And the 2 Euro bus to Barcelona stops right outside the campsite.

We have been a little naughty though and tend to stay here one night. Get all our affairs back in order. Have a much welcomed shower and replenish the water before checking out and parking a couple of hundred metres down the beach on a residential road. Then we can kind of get away with sneaking back in for the odd shower, toilet etc. It works and means that our accomodation for a week is only 17 Euros!

We continued to use the facilities when we dared. Spending one day in Barcelona and two on the beach. Each Monday we would check in to the campsite as a sort of 'thank you' gesture. A way to negate the guilt we felt walking in to the campsite from the beach for a shower and a poop.

Its a nice campsite and perfect for trips in to Barcelona if you want to avoid the costly hotels and hostels in town.

From small towns to Big cities...

Moving on from Montpellier was difficult.

We had found such a nice beach and could have easily stayed there for a week or two, but we wanted to keep exploring.

Le Boulou from near our van

After a mornings drive and a few minutes perusing the Aires directory we chose an aire we could find to stay on, which included showers, stumbling upon the small French port town of Gruissan where we were able to hand wash our clothes, fill up with water and watch the French play their Boules so passionately.

Le Boulou was the next town we were to stop off in. And it was so beautiful we stayed for 2 nights. Our plot was 100m from the side of the river, 3 minute walk in to town where we enjoyed stuffed squid and rice for lunch. Le menu d'jour. On the way back to the van we passed a butcherie and got 2 nice big burgers minced straight from the steak in front of us.

Kerry entering the Greek settlement of Emporium

These were enjoyed on the BBQ on the edge of the river with a couple of bottles of wine that evening. Afterward we played Boules with our quite amateurish set of plastic balls. But I did win all the same :)

Heading further down the coast passing through the French/Spanish border at le Perthus and spending the afternoon on the beach in Roses (where I took my first very cold dip!)

That evening around 5pm we drove past some Roman Ruins and took a look inside. Luckily the entrance was free on that particular day but it would shut in an hour so we felt a bit rushed. The settlement used to be called Emporion (meaning Market in Greek) as it was a major trading town even as far back as 9th century BC. Items were shipped here from all over the med including as far as Phocaea (modern day Turkey).

The 'Romanisation' of the Iberian Peninsula began in 195 BC when Marcus Porcius Cato setup a military camp at Empuries. The Roman and Greek settlements physically and legally became one in the 1st century AD called Municipium Emporiae

Eventually it was superseded by the rapidly expanding cities of Girona and Barcelona and was deserted in the 3rd century AD with only the Northern part being used as a cemetery for the nearby town of L'Escala.

We settled that night under a castle propped up on a hill and I wondered what life would have been like centuries ago compared to now. Probably not alot different in Europe. People milling around, chatting in squares, spot of shopping then lots of food and maybe a beheading. Ok... theres the difference.

Girona seemed to entice us in. Every time I asked kerry if she thought we should stop there, she nodded and we felt good about it. Parking up was fairly easy and there seemed to be a stream of people all walking down the rivers edge towards town. We followed until huge floral displays started popping up in ally ways, courtyards and staircases. It was a Festival of Flowers.

The weather wasnt too good so we abused the shelter of the Girona history museum and the old Jewish 'Call' which was now showing off its relics. In the History Museum I was pleasantly surprised to see some large industrial machinery including the first three phase motors and generators pioneered by engineers during the early use of electricity and the Girona led industrial revolution. Girona being one of the first cities to try electric street lighting.

Leave a message after the .._.

This machine intrigued me. From what I could surmise by looking, it would print out morse signals being received on to a roll of very thin paper for the operator to read later. A kind of early answering machine I suppose. 

The Eastern side of Girona was protected by a very large (I'd say 15 metres in places) wall with encampments and fortresses along it. The city has spilled out to the otherside of the wall now but walking along it gives brilliant views of the city and the snow topped Pyrenees behind. It was kind of surreal that you could go from the hustle and bustle of the crammed medieval streets to the relative calm and open space on the wall.

My Girona

The beginning of our tour of Europe

We have finally started trucking around Europe!

Driving out of Horsham was a bit weird. It was like hitchhiking for the first time again. Anxiety, fear, excitement, wanting, not-wanting, all with a little touch of panic.

Waiting at the ferry port

We aren't put in these situations very often. And Ive always found it weirdly addictive. Having a total unknown ahead of you. Its addictive because its scary I think. Kerry on the other hand is just dandy with it all!

Having made good time to the ferry port we were put on an earlier crossing (which was meant to be £32 more!) and drove in to Calais at 6pm French time. We knew we couldn't stay in Calais for long as its pretty dodgy. And as soon as we drove through the town we were shown why. There was a group of about 100 asylum seekers of different ethnicities at the side of the road, scaling a 10 foot high fence. God knows where they were going but I wasn't going to hang around to find out.

We drove South along the coast road, over rolling green fields and between the sand dunes at one point! France isn't like England. This puzzles me as you'd have thought they were connected at some point and may be a little alike? … maybe

Aire on the riverside near Limoges

After a few hours driving we grabbed our copy of 'All the Aires - France' and knuckled down to finding a suitable Aire. An aire in France is a designated Area for motorhomers or 'Camping-Carz' to pull up for the night, replenish any fresh water, dump any grey water as well as plug in to recharge batteries and watch tv etc.

Well this is all geared for BIG motorhomes. The Aire we arrived at in Ault was full of these. Mahoosive ones, all up on all kinds of leveling ramps with full sized satellite dishes on top. It was nuts. We pulled up in the blue smartie van and seemed a little dwarfed. We dont have leveling ramps so no sooner had we reversed up then we were down to the beach front to watch the sun setting. I wasn't scared anymore.

The next few days were full of driving. We wanted to get South and consequently heat! On the way through the Dordogne we stopped at a small, quaint town called Martel. The municipal camp site was a nice little green with showers and proper toilets. All for EURO 6.44.

Rocamadour from a distance

We had seen a few brown tourist signs for Rocamadour and I remembered my Dad saying he'd been there when touring on his motorbike. We drove along a windy road which opened out to a gorge where Rocamadour sits, clinging to the edge. The town was nice and we climbed the 200 odd steps up to numerous chapels and sanctuaries devoted to various religious icons.

The scenery started to change from big open, rolling fields to the gorges and canyons of the Pyrenees and then opened up to big blue skies and lots of heat!

We fought our way through Montpellier and out to a tiny spit of sand where we found loads of other camping cars all parked up metres from the beach. We used this to our advantage and spent a day lounging on the beach before heading in to Montpellier for a spot of sight seeing.

On the way we used McDonalds' wifi and stumbled across 5 chaps on tricked out 600cc motorbikes pulling stunts and ricks worthy of their own show. All in the car park which seemed to be well tolerated and made for some good pictures.

Beach just South of Montpellier

As we parked up on the outskirts of Montpellier we could hear a huge booming voice flooding over the city. Walking in, the sound got louder and louder until we found a great big skate and BMX comp was underway.

The next day we walked around Montpellier until we were tired and then retired back to the beach.

6am the next morning and I'm jolted awake by someone hollering outside the van. It's a French guy jabbering something I can't decipher. I explain in my best French that I cannot understand him. But he continues with his jabbers until I poke my head out of the window and see his car a little futher down the beach road, stuck in the sandy ditch next to it.

Myself and a passing motorist helped him for 30 minutes and eventually got the car out using branches and the van that had stopped to tow him. I don't know how he'd done it because the road is dead straight and in no way dangerous. I wonder whether the guy was on drugs, and nearly asked. Then thinking it'd be better to leave it.

A week of R, R, R and Aghr...

Sun sun and lots more sun

Tenerife is hot! I mean I knew it was hot. I've been before. But in August, mid season, with my parents. So when booking a last minute holiday in April I knew Tenerife would be one of the hottest places within our budget. Hotter than most places on Europe.


Kerry and I had such a good time on our ski season. We skied and boarded to our hearts content but all inbetween some very hard work. I didn't realise quite how much work it would be.

So in order to relax and unwind we decided to blow our wages from the ski season on our first all inclusive holiday. Unlimited beer, wine, food and sun. To get us ready for even more sun during the summer you see?

I was a bit taken aback when we were met at the airport by an empty transfer coach. To me this could mean one of two things. Either the hotel is crap, no ones else is going and I'm in for a week of cockroaches and chicken nuggets or we are going to be the only two people in the chalet being waited on hand and foot with massages and gourmet food.
Well it wasn't as Id expected. It was alovely hotel with marble everywhere and plants hanging from every floor. Water features were liberally sprinkled everywhere like Hundreds and Thousands on an ice cream.

The week consisted of nothing... There is nothing I can say except we sunbathed all day and then ate and drank at night. And thats what we wanted. I read 6 books as well and got a touch of constipation half way through. But we won't go in to that.

The poolside thermometer read atleast 30 degrees C every single day. That coupled with a beer tap that you pour yourself (!!!) and I was in my element.


The sunbatheing was a good opportunity to put down a base layer of tan ready for touring. And boy am I ready!

The end of our Winter season :(...

We are all done. Ski season over...

After waving goodbye to our last week of guests, Kerry and I enjoyed a well earned lie-in  before setting to work turning the chalet down and locking her up until the next season's seasonnaires arrive in 6 months time.

Our home for 4 months

The cleaning was a bit surreal really because there was no one there... No guests to tend to, no new mess being made. Once I'd cleaned the toilets and showers, no one used them to make them dirty again!

We had about 3 days to get the chalet ready for an inspection on the 4th day and were then to be moved 20 minutes up the valley to Tignes Lavachey to help out in a 24 bed chalet there.

On our last day we took to the slopes to say thank you and farewell to Sainte Foy. Unfortunately it was very icy and we only felt brave enough to chance one run, scared of picking up an injury on the last day of the season! But we snowboarded from the top of resort to the bottom, taking in the sights for the very last time.

We passed our inspection and told we had a lift to Tignes the next day at 13:00. So after a lazy morning saying goodbye to a few people and one last Diabolo Pizza (Spicy hot!) in the Pitchouli bar we met our manager and lugged our bags down THE stairs for the last time. 

Our season in Sainte Foy was finished. I had loved it too... There is no better way to live than on a mountain. And whilst I was skeptical to start with, Sainte Foy was the mountain for me. 

The Chalet got messier to get cleaner!

We thought we were just going to be helping out in Tignes. A bit of washing up, serving the guests and making a few beds, with the promise of a Tignes area lift pass for the last 3 days. How we were led on. The chalet normally operates with one chef and 2 hosts. One of the hosts had gone back to the UK for a few days training and Kerry and I were filling in her space. That is until we were in the van to Tignes. Then it became apparent that the chef had complained of an injured ankle and that Kerry and I were to cook that evening. 

Bleugh ... more work. I wasn't very happy. Kerry and I did not want to work in Tignes. We loved Sainte Foy and now that we had shut up shop just wanted to get home. We seriously contemplated leaving of our own accord on the Wednesday and heading home, but negotiated with the company and were assured that our commitment bond and retainer would be paid (Approx. £250 each) as well as a flight home on the chartered aircraft this coming Sunday. We figured a good deal for 3 days of tidying and hosting. 

Not so much for cooking for 21. 11 of which were kids, meaning a whole different course.

Marshmallow topped mountain from our chalet balcony

When we arrived we introduced ourselves and had a look around. The chalet was of a lower grading to ours. It wasn't as new, the furnishings weren't quite as nice, but functionally it was fine. If it was cleaned. We didn't know how the chef must have worked before. And if I'm honest, how no one had gotten ill. The kitchen had old grease smeared down the cupboards, every plate, bowl and piece of cutlery was dirty. The guests brought some mugs up to the kitchen to be cleaned as they had baked on scum around the rim. And the smell.. I'm not sure what it was but it was foul!

That evening Kerry and I cobbled together one of the meals we were used to cooking. A simple task you'd have thought... seeing as there is a comprehensive cook book that everyone is meant to adhere to. Not so when the chef had taken it upon himself to serve different food, resulting in the shopping not matching the ingredients. 

With the kitchen being as it was and the obvious discontent from the guests at the state of the place Kerry and I chose not to board the next day and instead devoted the time to deep cleaning the kitchen and dining areas. Basic stuff that Kerry and I would do every day... sweep and mop the floor, clean away all dishes in to the dishwasher, clean the windows, lay out afternoon tea.. all weren't done. And what go to me more was that the 'host' working with us had left by 9am! ... It's HER chalet!

The same palarva with dinner happened again for 2 nights. I hated it. This wasn't how a chalet was run and now I was working in it... making do with little support. I was literally counting down the hours until we were to go home. On the last night one guests in particular showed his disdain and started swearing loudly. I agreed with everything he said. I just wanted to get home.

View from the Grande Mott - Tignes

The last 3 days of our season were a nightmare and something I don't wish to happen again... But it's important that they don't detract from the whole experience. I've worked on a mountain for nearly 4 months, hosted for some amazing people, received job offers, expressions of people wanting to invest in Kerry and I and all while being able to snowboard pretty much every day.

There is nothing I would want to change about our season in Sainte Foy. It was simply... perfect. And I know it will be tricky to match that next year.

Over the 4 months Kerry and I have managed to not spend our wages. Living off of tips and the good company we kept. So with those wages we have decided to blow them all! Next Wednesday we jump back on an airplane and head for sunny Tenerife, Canary Islands for a week of all inclusive food and beer, 22 - 26 degree heat and most importantly ... someone waiting on us!

We already have some plans for next Winter season... but we can't tell you just yet ;)

A Month of Snowboarding bliss...

I've had the time of my life and I'm now exhausted!

We have had 4 weeks of perfect guests. One week we only had 4!

Phil and Claire, good school friends of mine, came out for a week which was really nice. They were initially going to try and find a different operator to stay with, And meet us out on the slopes. Sainte Foy being what it is (Quite a well-to-do, "oh yaa darling" type resort) meant that our chalet turned out being the cheapest and they succumbed to staying with us!

Kerry changed her rental board for some ski's so she could whizz around the mountain with us all and we had some brilliant weather.

The beginning of the week was a little sparse on the fresh stuff so Phil and I plucked up the courage to try some daring traverses. Real 20p - 50p stuff! But were rewarded with some lovely lines.

Then the heavens opened and we got a couple of feet of snow at the top! Another long traverse, known as Crystal Dark, later and another powder run to the piste.

All of the guests kindly banded together and bought Kerry and I a lovely steak at La Bergerie restaurant on the Wednesday night.

We even stuck a GoPro attachment to Phil's helmet so there should be some awesome footage of me in the next video! I jumped in to a particular tree run I love. However when I rode it this time I'd had a 9% Duvel (beer) and the snow was... sparse to say the least. I was clattering in to branches, climbing out of tree wells and then jumping down bare earth until I plopped out the other side, a little battered but ok.

Kerry celebrated her Birthday on the 25th March and we had some awesome guests to go with it. The two kids, 6 and 9, were adamant that EVERY single birthday decoration should be put up. There were balloons and sprinkle bits everywhere as well as two hand made cards.

 I gave her a very special, all gold, Pandora charm to  complete her bracelet. If there are any blokes out there dieing for ideas for what to buy their beloved better halfs... go with Pandora! There is a charm for all occasions and it's kept me out of the dog house for a good 2 years.

Now that it's full up however, Kerry will be able to change out any old charms out for new ones I buy. Even though she'd adamant on another bracelet!

I was able to meet up with the maintenance guy from another chalet company for an afternoons riding. We did an off piste run called the Col de Granier which runs from the top of the resort on the North face of the mountain down to a small stream and then down to the village at the bottom of the mountain.

The powder here was beautiful. There had been hardly anyone down it and because it gets very little sun the snow was top quality.

The whole thing took about an hour and we had to walk the last few hundred meters as the snow had melted lower down. I was knackered! All that fluffy stuff had tired me out and the pint in the pub at the end was well earnt!

I actually felt rather sick after. Then when I got back to Kerry she reminded me I hadn't eaten since breakfast and had ridden all day!

All in all it's been a brilliant season. I wouldn't change it for the world. And while I was very skeptical of the small resort we were placed in I'm glad we were now. Our boarding and Kerry's skiing has come on leaps and bounds and we have been on the slopes nearly every day. This is no doubt because we haven't been hitting the sauce every night like other resorts. We cannot imagine skiing in a big resort! Who wants to queue on holiday? I want to Snowboard!

Chalet clean down, linen returns, oven blitzing and general admin stuff to do this week. Then over to Tignes for 3 days to help out with a different chalet and finally a flight back to blighty on Sunday.... While I love the snow, I'm now itching to get in the van and to get some heat!

Visits from the Family...

The Brackpool (seniors) 's

I was fairly surprised, but pleasantly pleased, when my Dad said he wanted to come and join us for a week.

Haydn, myself, David, Kerry and Dad at lunch

Dad isn't a skier, boarder, polar bear, Inuit or any other snow related person. So to commit to coming out to the Alps for a week and to have Dry Slope Skiing lessons before hand was touching.

Alas it wasn't meant to be. Dad found skiing on snow a lot different. His first run was further than he had ever skied before put together and he was quite tired when Kerry and I got out of the chalet around 10am.

My two Uncles were with Dad and it was a real treat to ski with them. I'd skied with David the previous year in Alpe D'Heuz but it was only my second week boarding and I wasn't nearly fast enough to keep up. Now however, I'd had 8 weeks of practice, day in day out with only Transfer days off the slopes. Ha-Harr!

Beauty at every turn: Photo Courtesy of Dad

I knew Dave was serious though... two brand new, wood effect, ultra wide planks appeared seconds after he got in the chalet. Obviously proud of his new purchase I couldn't resist but point out that his board seemed to have been broken in two during the flight! Haydn on the other hand had the right idea and pulled out an ultra bendy board given to him by a mate.

Kerry very kindly coached Dad down the blue runs, saying nothing, just skiing in front of him so he could imitate. Having 2 of your brothers and your son yelling contradictory instructions at you at once can't be classed as a constructive ski lesson! Having a female bottom gliding down the hill in front of you apparently is!

Dad skied for a couple of days but never got to the 'click' moment where it all falls in to place. Not wanting to do any lasting physical damage he graciously bowed out and joined us for lunch. He kept saying "I'm primarily here to see you Ads". I was pleased he was here. Its always good to see your Dad.

Jan and Ros join us for dinner on Thursday Evening

The days were filled with some awesome snow, a lot of falls, and Haydn getting lost every 5 minutes. And I was quicker as quick as David. I'm sure I'd now give him a run for his money on any given piste. (Hehe)

Two very nice 60-something year old ladies were staying at the same time. Kerry and I were adamant that we would still offer the exemplary service we usually dish up, so evenings were occupied with cooking the 3 courses as usual. That is, until, David offered to buy everyone a meal on the Thursday evening, the day after our day off. Effectively giving us 2 days off. And boy did we use them well!

We totally chilled, watched a few interesting films including one of my favourites, In Bruges. The two days felt like a little mini break in the season. And it was all the more special because I was with family.


It's fair to say there were a few beers drunk throughout the week! We now have a fully stocked cupboard of assorted beer glasses that look mysteriously familiar to the ones served in the pub! (Probably a good thing as we were having a lot of accidents on our tiled kitchen floor!)

I very much enjoyed the week. It was good to see, and spend time with, my family. I wish all of my friends and family could come and stay the whole season! Maybe one day if anyone wins the lottery??