Pole to pole

So as not to tire Conor out for his lesson, he stayed at the hotel with Mr B while I took Katherine skiing. Gloomy cloudy day - with the mountain entirely hidden in clouds. We managed one run - but visibility is so bad if it's snowing* that it makes it hard to achieve much. Certainly it means skiing is no fun so, to avoid putting Katherine off the whole thing, we waited it out with a very fine hot chocolate in the cafe. By the bottom of the cup, things were looking a whole lot better so we managed some fine skiing before heading back to pick up the boys for the afternoon session.

Picnic lunch in a park, then off for afternoon lessons. Conor spotted a chap dressed as superman by the lifts and I think Superman's friend spotted my not so surreptitious attempt to get a photo of him and told him to come over. He happily posed with the kids though Conor was so shy at meeting his hero that he insisted on standing in front of his sister and not speaking to Superman at all (though later he confided to me "You know, I don't think that was really Superman, I think that was just a man pretending. After all, Superman doesn't ski because he can fly.")

With the kids settled in their lessons, we headed over the hills and far away to explore the furthest reaches of the resort. Some lovely runs, and some irritatingly slushy narrow ones too. Suddenly, not long after this shot, the clouds descended and we couldn't see a thing. Our last run down to the resort was one neither of us had done before - so we ended up skiing along the poles that mark the edge of the piste - stopping at one and peering into the gloom to see the next one (10 metres away). We somehow made it down on time - funny how you get less fussy about skiing on (steep) reds and blacks when you can't see the precipice you're skiing over and you might be late for the kids!

They had both had great lessons and it was an absolute delight after my fight with him the previous day to spot a wee boy on the nursery slopes and think "that little boy who's skiing really well is wearing just the same outfit as Conor.... oh, it is Conor". I think he'll be happy to come back. (Phew. Though I'm sure I'll regret all this effort to get him into a really expensive sport in several years time...)

Once all the equipment was returned (after havering about maybe staying an extra day) we headed back down into France and on to the other town we might move to ready for a meeting with the estate agent tomorrow.

A wonderful mini-break: not long enough to feel sick of skiing, but definitely long enough for my muscles to remember the pain!

*yes, I am aware that complaining about snow in a ski resort may appear churlish...