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Now, my birthdays, like those of many men, are things that normally pass quietly. A meal perhaps, a quick call from Dad maybe. Quiet, relaxed, unfussy and definitely unhurried…

But not this one, oh no! This one was special! Cesca had plans and as they unravelled I began to realise that all I could do was relax my normal kung fu level grip and let her get on with running things.

Firstly, on my birthday morning I had a brilliant breakfast followed by the revelation that we were heading dry slope skiing. This was somewhat of a shock, but then Cesca is well versed in surprising me with outlandish presents; from capoeira lessons, straight razor shaves, and track days. Always a shock really. After all, I asked for a PS3 this year. Anyway, this was a welcome surprise as I love skiing dearly and haven’t been able to go since a brief but brilliant trip to Verbier a few years ago.

After hitting the dry slope we came back and then went out to dinner with my wonderful brother and mum. We went to one of my favourite restaurants: Loch Fyne, which is a brilliant chain of classy fish restaurants.

The next day more surprises were in store and of increasing coolness. Firstly, we both geared up and went airsofting. Yes, we. Francesca was going to play as well. Normally she hates the subject even being mentioned.

Fallout is an ex military base, mostly underground and she had hired the entire place for me and my mates to go shooting in. I was very happy to find a whole gumit of my Darkangel brothers awaiting me at Fallout Basildon. After a day of intense fighting in dark corridors and throwing flash bangs at each other, not to mention giving the SCAR a good airing (review coming) we left and went to central London for a drinks party with family and friends.

It was here that Francesca unveiled her greatest surprise.

Tignes.

Val d’Isère.

SKIING FOR A WEEK!

You see, for her 30th I surprised her under similar circumstances with a trip to Venice leaving the next day. I was almost half expecting her revenge to be along similar lines, but could not look to hope that, joy of joys, we were actually going to go real skiing. When she announced the trip, and that it was leaving in the morning, I experienced one of the those moments you see in films where the big surprise twist is revealed and there follows the character’s stunned expression and a quick sequence of flashbacks to all the little clues that this character has missed leading up to the event. Mine were the obvious dry slope session being a warm up for us both, the fact that Cesca booked me a week of work by calling my boss, various clues in my birthday cards, searching questions about “what are you doing with all your skiing stuff” a few months prior during a house cleaning session. (She was checking that I had it all you see). We drank late into the night and it was wonderful to share the evening with so many friends. In fact we drank so late it was a close run for the last tube and a merciful bed awaited at 1:30am

The alarm woke me at 7am. That wasn’t so merciful.

We needed to be at Gatwick ASAP and as I had not known about this holiday until the party the previous night, I had not prepared anything. Therefore my packing was best described as sporadic. Like a man on the run from the mob who pops home for literally a minute and throws his life into a suitcase. I have found all sorts of things I don’t need and rather a lot that I should have remembered is actually missing. That is living on the spur of the moment.

The next 8 hours was a journey to the heart of the French Alps and small snatches of sleep.

Remember that I had skied on my birthday and then, with little sleep, gone airsofting for 7 hours, from there to a party till late and then got up at the crack of dawn to travel 500 miles to France… I was best described as running on vapours. A bike slowing down and becoming hard to steer. Indeed upon arriving at the chalet I of course shunned the meet and greet and went straight to bed and rose like a new man…

Like bollocks I did!

I spent another night drinking and chatting with the other chalet guests and only turning in as the clock struck another witching hour.

One thing the area is famous for is its Marmots that live amongst the slopes. I personally wanted to stay far away from them because it is a not well known fact that Marmots are the source of the Bubonic Plague.

By coughing on people.

Seriously!

Don’t pick them up. Definitely don’t lick em! More information for the doubters can be found here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marmot and here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bubonic_plague

We rose again at 7am and I was starting to feel like I was in the army. I then skied nonstop from 9:45am to 3pm.

Tomorrow may be called off… but I doubt it.

I love skiing and even this late in the season the snow here is still good. Slushy in places and you need your wits about you, but this resort is bloody massive and I was sure that even later in the week we would still be able to find something. Its beauty is unsurpassed and the resort sits majestically by a lake formed aside a giant dam. Above which the mountains and peaks hide an impressive number of top runs of all types. Clusters of high greens run into blues and are surrounded by lithe reds which are the foothill of the peaks and the blacks. Some of which are Olympic runs.

Cracking, ninja, European mega-blacks.

We took it as easy as possible and Francesca’s skiing shows a marked promise. Her lines into and out of turns are very nice and I personally think it is only her confidence that lets he down and thus the inevitable tumble and sprawl of skis followed by tears.

Surely the first day is the hardest.

We eventually came back to the base of our lift at 3pm, a few hours early, and Francesca headed straight to bed while I sat up here in the main room chatting to the chef and joining him in tasting some wines for the evening’s dinner party.

Compared to being at work I know which reality I prefer!

The quiet beauty of the chalet is wonderfully punctuated by the pleasant guests and interesting conversations. Thus far all were being polite and guarding their more extreme opinions, but having done a few of these shared chalets in my time, I had a good feeling about this one. Dinner, sleep and tomorrow’s runs awaited and I finally succumbed to the bed at midnight.

Day 2 (running diary)

Marmots spotted today 2.

Today was a mixture of both pleasure and pain. In Cesca’s case more pain than pleasure. We started by trying to book her on the group lesson for the morning, the first challenge of which is finding the ski school and we did so only after wandering into some Frenchman’s house. He gave the Gallic version of “who the fuck are you two idiots?” and we quickly made our exit. After finding the shop (hidden in the startling location of directly over the road) we could only book Cesca on a private lesson over in Tignes. There is no bus from Le Bev’ (the tiny town we are staying in) to Tignes so we had to ski it. With only an hour to get over there we rushed up the slope and around the mountain making it with moments to spare. Cesca’s instructor was a Macedonian called, obviously, Alexander who had been skiing since in short trousers and was of stratospheric skill level. If anyone could give Cesca her mojo back it was this guy.

I left them to it and we up the other side of the mountain with my sights set on the monster black run back down called Trolles. I had spied it the day previously and its sheer unadulterated fear factor can be sensed across the entire range as it sits atop its peak emanating broken legs or glory. Once up close I could see it was the short stack run before the main, much larger, and black. I could also see it had not yet felt the day’s sun. Once out of the lift I skied to its start. As soon as I even considered it my better judgment jumped in like Obi-Wan Kenobi announcing to Luke that this Death Star looked dicey. So I skipped it and joined the black from the bottom. From there I could see what a shit run it was, no Mon Fort, and the condition of the rest of the run told me I had made the right choice.

The rest of the run… yes, a massively wide black with no one on it at all and actually for good reason. It was a pure ice cube.

I went over on my first turn and lost a ski.

Laying on the ice I watched as my loose ski completely failed to stop and made a very spirited break for Switzerland. It finally stopped in Chelsea high street. With great care, I skied the down to it on one ski.

Just to show how hard I was.

That or stupid.

Anyway, errant ski reattached, I traversed the rest on slow-mo and finally I was down and relieved that it was done. At the bottom (which dove tails a green) I met up with Cesca during her lesson and caught the lift up the other side of the mountain with them; a nice blue called Combe. After the lesson the instructor told her the same as me; that she is a great skier but she lacks confidence in herself.

Cesca’s skiing is like this, her lines (the tracks of her skis on the snow) are excellent but she fears to fall, which forces her to turn too often, with shaking legs and not lift her feet. Thus the turn is much harder, progress is much slower (more slow turns) and her legs ache much more. If you ski with confidence then you can do a mushy mogley blue in 4 turns; Cesca takes 30 with stops in between, thus she is working much harder than she needs to. It is a matter of control. I.E. You can ski any run as fast as you like, turning not at all, if… if you can stop when you want to.

As Bohdi says in Point Break, “Fear causes hesitation, and hesitation will cause your worst fears to come true.”

All skiers go through this stage and both Cesca and I can’t wait for it to pass. When we finally made the Sache lift down to Le Bev’ I dropped Cesca off and skied down the red called Pavot. The snow was awful towards the bottom and I was glad when skiing up to the bar at the end and a well deserved pint. Once back in the chalet we went for a long Jacuzzi followed by 15 minutes in the sauna. Much refreshed we sat down to a great meal with the rest of the chalet and Robin the rep.

Day 3

On day 3 Cesca was in such pain from her falls the day before that she declined to go up. This afforded me to join Robin the rep and the rest of the chalet guest on a tour of the mountains up to the far peaks of the glacier. Robin set a terrific pace that I was only just able to keep up on our journey across to the far left of the ski map, during which we went down the men’s Olympic black run to Val d’esire called Face, which is a very steep black mogle field through the trees, followed by the snow train back up the facing mountain.

In record time we were up the final push and on the lift called Leissiers Express, which pulls up over the mountain range and down to the ice world of the Pissailas Glacier. This lift was terrifying because with no warning, upon breaching the lip, the lifts path dropped away in almost freefall. Made all the worse for the slow speed. Not for the first time I recognised the fear called vertigo.

The Glacial world is wonderful. Snow here never melts at the same speed at the rest and we were in a winter wonderland. Spirits amongst the group was high and we held an informal tournament to ski the fastest. I was never in the running for this but managed 43 miles per hour on a downward slope (as measured by a satellite linked arm band) only to fall and be flung through the air onto the snow. A most expressive fall! My back filled up with snow and ice, thankfully numbing the pain and it wasn’t until I got back to the room I could see the damage (some intense scrapes and bruising).

This was my only true fall of the holiday, so I was glad to simply get up and get back on with it. Too easy can one break something at that speed. Not that I was the fastest, by a long way. The final score was nearly 70mph by one of the others from the chalet.

After, as my brother would say, “caining it” around the Glacier we caught the bus to a open lift (the main drag being closed for some reason) and then down a couple of quick runs to the Après Ski of live music, table dancing and drunkenness!

Cool!

Unfortunately, without Cesca I felt a right traitor and spent most of the time filming the scene so she could at least experience it back in the chalet later. We eventually left Robin there, dancing in his undercrackers! And skied back to Le Bev.

That night the group from the chalet decided to all go out and we went for a group meal. Mine was frankly one of the best meals I have ever eaten. Steak with duck liver on toast with dauphinoise potatoes! Truly the French can cook. I have taken Cesca to Petrus (http://www.gordonramsay.com/petrus/ ) in London and paid 3 times this price for lesser food!

The wine was good too. Well and truly stuffed we adjourned to a local bar, where the group played table football and danced.

Often at the same time! Our chalet cook and all round hard drinker; Andy showed up with a massive wig on and the night drew to a very fun but undignified close.

day 4

Unsurprisingly, after his session at the bar last night, Andy was a no show this morning, so one of the guests very kindly stepped up and made the breakfast. We all grumbled, but also we chuckled as Andy was a nice guy.

Skiing today was Cesca and I together again. Overnight Cesca had finally worked out the perfect clips setting for her boots and for the first time on the holiday she really enjoyed the skiing. We went directly down runs that only two days before had reduced her to tears and she had a wonderful smile for me when we skied alongside each other.

Lunch was held at the live music bar from the day before and this time they had a female lounge singer who was excellent. She walked around using a radio mic and when Cesca was away from the table serenaded me with “The girl from Ipanema”, which reminded me of Cesca and I’s honeymoon, which was to Brazil with 3 days in Rio. Cesca returned to the table and asked why the singer had been gently brushing my arm, I am embarrassed to say that I didn’t notice as the memories the song evoked quite lost me in the moment.

Or, at least, that’s my excuse!

There was a slight hiccup after lunch as the routes I had picked involved a long run down from the restaurant atop the Daille cable car.

Much of the easy routes had been closed due to lack of snow and we were forced down a combination of the “ok” red run and “G” black, which was slushy in places and quite threatened to ruin Cesca’s good mood. However, once down we climbed aboard the lift and rushed back up to the top and then started our journey back to the Sashe cable car and very well deserved drink for both of us.

Dinner that night was good again, Andy having surfaced finally, but the efforts of the last 5 days had caught up with me and at 10pm I fell into deep sleep with hardly a thought.

day 5

This day was the best skiing for Cesca of the holiday. One of the guests had arranged for transport over to Val’desaire and this afforded the chance for Cesca and I to try the beginners run’s up the lift called Solaise. These were high up greens and wide sweeping blues that suited Cesca down to the ground and we were very happy to be there as I don’t think we could have skied all the way without running out of time and having to turn back. We spent a happy day redoing the same three runs; Madeleine, col de Madeleine and glacier.

These runs are directly on the other side of the mountain to the high glacier I had visited with the group a few days ago and still had loads of good snow on them. They also had lots of kids on them, which slowed me down a lot, but I didn’t mind as the little trains of cute kids skiing together is great fun to watch.

As the lift closing time drew near Cesca took the lift down and I skied the only open path to meet her at the bottom; called “M”. This was amazingly slushy by this point and a tired set of legs met Cesca at the base. We awaited the arrival of the other chalet guests and when they appeared dropped off our boots and skis in the van and took to scouring the shops.

This time of year the entire region is closing down for the summer and many of the shop have massive sales on. A couple of seasons prior I got my ski boots for £25; a huge saving! This trip, I had less fiduciary reserves and even less luck in finding a bargain of equal measure, but I did manage to find a very nice hoody with 40% off.

That night, back at the chalet, a few of the men folk stayed up late into the night, drinking and chewing the fat. Eventually, having covered everything from Philosophy, music, politics, religion and of course movies, I mooted the fantastic theory of Quasars and the other adjourned to their beds. Mind you, at 1:30am and a bottle of wine each (and the rest); the massive mental image of quasars and super massive black holes is too much for anyone!

day 6

Our final days skiing started with the chalet staff missing again and indeed the manager informed us that he was sacked for his non attendance. Stupid fellow as he lost a large chunk of accrued wages, his fight home, and his reference only two days before he was due to collect. A sobering thought that people often waltz directly into getting sacked when they feel irreplaceable.

Skiing’ wise Cesca improved to a new high today and our days skiing was a great pleasure of reds and blues. The slopes were very quiet due to most holidays stopping short the day before. We took full advantage and covered a good few slopes with just each other for company, which was most romantic.

Lunch was a splendid meal where we joined in with the other guests at a lovely slope top restaurant and ate more very fine French food.

After Cesca and I skied back and jumped into the Jacuzzi together and enjoying the final night.

Andy’s replacement; Chloe, was entertaining to say the least as her idea of a starter was almost as hilarious as her descriptions of her working conditions and comrades. One of which was monikered Pirate Boy. Bizarre in the extreme.

Our last night was short to say the least. We rose at 4:30am and the long journey to England began in earnest.

Day 3 of back to work

Sitting here now, watching the TV and washing my clothes in my flat, France seems a long way away and a long time ago. Already work is piled high and stress pilled on, and I find it hard to catch enough breath to even write this article. Its influence on my passing the 30^th mark is thus, as yet, unclear to my mind. However, the holiday was fantastic fun, great skiing and a simply brilliant surprise. Cesca has outdone herself and set myself a high bar to reach for her 40^th!

Coming soon will be a compilation of our movies shot on the holiday.

Regards,

Basho

Basho & Cesca are traveling with:

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