My neighbours tend to believe the weather forecast here. It may come sooner or arrive a little later, but we will usually get whatever is predicted. Sometimes when it comes it is a bit less severe than foreseen; rarely is it worse. This valley system is after all just one set of wrinkles in the huge Alpine geography which stretches from the foothills east of Lyon to the Dolomites in Austria. What’s more, the weather station is in Bourg-Saint-Maurice on the other side of this mountain so there are local variations. The ‘Three Valleys’, the collective term for the valleys and peaks of the Courchevels (1350 up to 1850), Méribel and Belleville lie roughly North - South, fanning out southwards like the fingers of a hand, the land rising steeply towards the fingertips. All three merge to the North in the Valley of Bozel, Tarantaise which runs West - East and this rises towards its eastern end where it divides, the left fork leading up to Champagny-en-Vanoise , where I work, and the right, bending south to Pralognan and the Vanoise glacier. The kinks in the valleys all serve to frustrate the on-coming weather systems and often it seems as if the clouds build over the western end only to disperse again. It is widely believed that the Thursday night forecast is the least reliable as it is designed to attract Lyonnais skiers in time for the weekend. Even ‘météo-france.fr’ seems to conspire in this way. These visitors can be here in two hours so are probably the most frequent. One family does this on many weekends, collecting the children straight from school and staying at the Résidence for free each time since they own one of the group’s apartments in the Dordogne. As the season gives way to the warmer days around the spring holidays ‘la montagne’ must fight with ‘la mer’ for its visitors, so the forecast is crucial. Too hot a prediction, suggesting poor snow quality and the cars will head off down the Rhône valley to the coast.
This is a climate of extremes, of severe snowfall warnings and avalanches. Snow depth is always given; currently almost two metres of snow cover the highest mountains. A small rise in temperature can mean that different snow layers fail to bond and leave snow granules which behave like marbles and will result in slab avalanches in exposed areas, especially where the sun strikes. It is the job of the ‘pisteurs’ to make these areas safe where they occur near prepared ski runs. This they do by setting off small charges in the snow pack in the early morning before the run is open, to release the buildup of snow. It is extremely hazardous work since the weight of just one skier can trigger the avalanche. Every day the forecast gives the avalanche risk in terms of a 1 – 5 rating. This is never shown as low as 1. Today it is 3, regarded as ‘considerable’. Interestingly, it is never given as high as 5 either because after all - hey - this is a tourist region; people mustn’t be put off totally. They clearly aren’t since fatalities are a common enough news item. This morning for instance I heard that two skiers ‘met their deaths’ in an avalanche in the Pyrenees. What is surprising is the fact that two others survived since it is not possible to ‘out - ski’ the falling snow. Every year about 50 people end their holidays, and their lives, in this way across the whole Rhone-Alpes region. Local radio has a slot entitled ‘Henry’s Avalanche Talk’ in which Henry, in his pleasant American English voice, warns very clearly against going ‘off-piste’ in an unaccompanied haphazard fashion. Sadly though, even the very experienced, local guides sometimes get this wrong.
This is also a climate of contrasts. Early this morning the ‘tree tunnel’ along the valley side between here and Bozel, a road rarely in the sun, was filled with luminous grey mist, the towering trees all in white, a fairyland palace. Once I arrived at Champagny I could see that all below me was still in a ‘mer de nuages’. This is a cloud inversion which holds damp cold air in the valley bottom. By 11am the mist had disappeared completely and a breeze had shaken my fairy palace to pieces leaving pads of snow all over the road. Whole days can be spent inside this cloud if you don’t go up the mountain. Gaining altitude always clears the mind and the air high up has a luminosity, a brilliance, so that sunglasses are required and not just for show. It can sometimes be so clear that you seem to open your eyes; then open them still further, like removing a veil.
Each day three temperatures are given, for 1000, 2000 and 3000 metres. On average the temperature drops by one degree Celsius for every 100 metres of altitude. You will remember how much colder we were, in our summer clothes, at the top of the big cable car on Saulire even in August. So it is not unusual for the air temperature at 3,000 to be as low as minus 25, for example, while below 1,000 it may be minus 3. On very cold days airwaves appear above the peaks. These clouds are curve-topped, resembling a plane’s wing section and are formed by the top of a band of rising warmer air condensing in the much colder air at that height as it rises up and over the mountain. Cloud cover generally features prominently in the weather forecast because of the importance of skiing as an activity, and great concern is caused when the clouds hide the mountains creating a ‘jour blanc’, which the British call ‘whiteout’ conditions. The only less popular forecast is one where snow falls but only at altitude, the rain/snow limit set at, say 1800 metres, so that everyone in Courchevel is skiing in the rain. Wind is regarded as a nuisance too since it can stop the ski lifts from running. I have been on the mountain on days where it was just daft to continue to play in howling wind, with snow and ice shards blasting horizontally across the slopes and only the despised drag lifts, at ground level, still in use. Regardless of the given direction and strength of the ‘meteorological wind’, within the height of these mountains there is a ‘valley breeze’ which blows up the valley in the morning as the sides warm, and at the end of the day, as the land cools, flows down again. Bozel which lies near the top of this valley, where it divides, is a favourite hang - gliding centre and on fine days throughout the year flyers take advantage of this current to make a wide tour of the whole valley. Last summer I cycled down to Albertville (in a brief respite between operations) and found the breeze in my face all the way down. Luckily, I was early enough in the day to return before it changed, so I was wind - assisted all the way back up again.
When it comes to discussion of the weather my neighbours can be a pretty philosophical lot, and in spite of their revolutionary past, this is one subject which they accept with a shrug and even a touch of pride Their attitude is ‘’Il faut faire avec’’ ie You get what you’re given so just make the best of it. What do you expect? This is an extreme environment.
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copyright Julia Austen 2015