Imperial College Snowsport on tour!
Snowsport 2005
Christmas Trip to Val d'Isere
I don't quite know where to start this, so I'll start it in the union, Friday 16th December last term. 70 odd people stood in the freezing cold surrounded by a multitude of bags of interesting shapes and sizes waiting for a bus that was, predictably, late. We have not had the best luck with busses in the past (veterans of last years BUSC will fondly remember the 25 hour ride with lost drivers), and the arrival of a driver informing us that he was ready to take 70 student to Val Thorens didn't help. He was quickly sent on his way (minor mix-up, thought we were UCL), and soon after, the correct bus arrived. After a few minutes of confusion 5060 people climbed aboard, the other ten or so waiting behind for the pleasure of travelling to France with 30 Welsh naval cadets from Cardiff.
17 hours and an Indiana Jones film later, we found ourselves careening through the snowy Alps, managing to find our way up only the narrowest of mountain roads in our huge bus. Eventually we past Tignes and the large reservoir that resides in the valley and found ourselves at the Ronde-du-Piste, Val d'Isere. Despite the fact that the snow at this roundabout had been pummelled into sheet ice by the busses that turned here, we hauled kit across the road to the Residence Maeva (budget accommodation of the best kind), and prepared for the coming days skiing.
Despite snow on our arrival, the first days skiing brought blazing sunshine (most people know this is a very rare occurrence, especially Scottish skiers), and ample snow from the day before, for a beautiful day on the mountain.
Val d'Isere is an excellent resort for all kinds of skiers. Our large number of beginners out for the first time had the pick of a wide range of beginners slopes to fall over on. While more experienced skiers had the opportunity to do the same on miles of steeper runs, or off piste. Unfortunately, the resort was recovering from a bout of snowlessness, so many of the more remote runs were closed, the reason for which became self evident throughout the week. As the snow began to clear, a large amount of gravel came to the surface. This made the rock content of the piste most undesirable. Worse affected were the off-piste conditions, where mogul troughs harboured jagged bedrock ready to turn ski bases into linguine (ask James about this, he is extremely experienced in the controlled destruction of skis).
Despite these conditions, one of the advantages of Val d'Isere is the ability to ski over into Tignes. Snow conditions in the Tignes valley were far more suitable. They had their snow machines constantly pumping snow onto the piste resulting in large mounds of powder that would gradually spread over the day, resulting in a nice covering of freshly made snow. An added advantage of Tignes is the beautiful view down to the lake, held back by an imposing dam, creating a not undramatic entrance to the valley.
The middle of the week saw no break in the perfect weather, and the introduction of the suit-of-shame. This piece of all-in-one 1980s couture finds its way to anyone who has unwittingly made a fool of themselves on the slopes, alcohol related or otherwise, in this case it was the fellow who threw up on the bus 5 minutes after departing from South Ken (dodgy union curry was the basis of his excuse).
The `on-the-piste' reps who were seeing to our every need had started taking us out to local bars, generally leading lie-ins increasing in length, and the advent of multi-coloured snow (Henry?). These were generally bars staffed by English which made drink ordering far simpler (oon beer, sieve oo play!), and gave us a good chance to fraternise with students of other universities staying in the same resort. Thursday night also saw, for the princely sum of 25 euros each, a fondue night held a local restaurant staffed by harried looking waiters in a constant Gollum-like crouch. Each table was plied with the essential, delicious bowls of cheesy goo and boiling oil (for cooking lumps of meat in, all you none-fondue aficionados out there), the only complaint coming form a Scotsman that there weren't enough chips.
So the rest of the week panned out, skiing patchy in places, the sun always shining, and eventually the time to leave sneaked upon us.
Despite being told we could use our rooms for the rest of the day, they kicked us out at 10, and held our bags while we headed back up the hill to saviour the atmosphere one last time.
At 5 we all crammed onto the bus we had grown to know and love on the trip down. Another Indiana Jones film later we were well on our way up the east border of France back to the dull grey and rain of London.
Depressing perhaps, but many of us were buoyed by the fact that in two months we are, um well . . . going again (shrugs sheepishly).
Visit www.imperialski.co.uk for info!
