Some good friends invited us to go skiing with them, so we went. The wife did most of the organising in fact, and as a result we had a great time in Chamonix. The French railway company SNCF lay on some special trains for the skiing season so we took the train direct from Le Mans that connected to a short commuter train ride from the resort. Our TGV turned out to be a Train of Great Slowness and we arrived an hour and a quarter late for a half-hour connection. But we got there anyway, settled in to the hotel, and sussed out the ski hire for the next day.
The view from the hotel room, and Chamonix town square
Our wonderful instructor Annette. Her real name is Anne but she is tiny, and the suffix -ette in French means little. And the first view of the ski slopes... It's been a long time since I skied so I hope it all comes flooding back.
Skiing is an activity, but it's also an atmosphere, a feeling. The quiet of the slopes, the rush of speed, the feeling of stillness when you stop, the cold, fresh air. And the views, of course.
