Determined to get some use from Juan's rando skis (virgin-new since last year), and "make or break" me, I had booked us onto a 5-day ski-touring holiday in the Queyras. Situated on the Italian border a hour south of Briançon, it's a favourite area for us but we haven't been there since Juan's move to CH has curtailed our weekend trips to within-easy-range-of-Grenoble. The Christmas break was the perfect opportunity to renew contact.
Before leaving Vaulnaveys I had worked myself into a lather of anxiety about where and what skis to hire (I wear the rando thing with considerable psychological baggage – my history with ski touring complicated!). So I would like to note here what a waste of energy that was. Albeit with ample protection, the kit hired from the guide was absolutely fine. The issue became how I was going to survive five days of 900 m ascents with a UCPA group where the max age was supposed to be 39 (!), with ski technique/level of fitness on the edge of what was required.
Day 1 started well...
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| regrouping at the hamlet of Valpreveyre – Bric Bouchet gleams in the background |
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| so far so good... |
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| looking down from Col d'Urine to the Po valley |
It was clear I wasn't going to make Day 2. And that was fine. After doing the beacon-rescue exercise...
... I nursed my sinusitis in the safety of the valley while Juan walked up high once again:
... able to enjoy himself without worrying about whether the wife was going to break her neck.
In the evening the gîte served a competent (rather than gastronomic) 7-course Christmas meal. Spirits were high but the late and extended timing, and raucous high-volume French were too much for us old codgers. The exquisite relief at retiring to our 2-bunk-bed room further sign of advancing middle age!
Day 3 was Christmas Day – but you wouldn't have noticed its passing in this secular community. Juan was suffering from thigh burn-out and took a day off while the rest of us walked up Maloquestre forest in deep, heavy, falling snow. The snow cushioned my numerous falls but, each time, the high water content caused it to compact, like being entombed in cement. Someone in the group was ready to dig me out each time I needed help. On just about every bend. But, thanks to them, I got down the hill.
To no one's surprise I copped out of Day 4 – where the mounting avalanche risk was now 4+ and the skins had to be kept on even for the descent. For Juan the final biscuit was 5km of cross-country piste to get back to Abriès. What could be worse! Meanwhile, I strolled along the bottom of the valley, enjoying having my two feet firmly on the ground.
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| waiting for the bus (which never arrived - it had broken down) at Ristolas |
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| between Abriès and Ristolas - photo taken in colour! |
Day 5 was a dream. And a carbon copy of a similar outing we did many years ago. So my two most memorably lovely ski rando outings have happened in the same place: the Crête de la Gardiole. Free from worries about boot comfort, physical fitness and technique it was pure pleasure from beginning to end. "Tu es très bien montée, Rebecca", praises Jean-Philippe. What a good girl am I. And what a superlative activity ski touring is, when conditions are right.
And click here for Jean-Philippe's rousing 1-minute video clip of our week. You might catch Juan but anyone skiing full tilt is not me! And here for a fellow group member's films.
How can we keep it going...? Because of Juan's absence, and our difficulty in embedding ourselves with a club, it can't be a regular activity as do the die-hard Grenoblois. But hopefully we'll manage a one-off repeat before the next season. Meanwhile, we are going to bore anyone with whom we have contact with the 15-minute video Jean-Philippe made of our challenging, exhausting, terrifying, rewarding, magical week.
