There is a kind of panic in the air. We feel the end of the season coming on even though there are still five or so weeks left. We’re all quite good at our jobs now; we’ve got used to this régime, the getting up early, the endless questions to which I know all the answers, the time spent on the mountain at every available moment, getting by on just enough money and sleep, secure in a contract which lasts until the end of April - but suddenly there is a different atmosphere. And the reason? A serious change in the weather: the temperature has risen and the snow has transformed. In many places below 1500 metres, it has disappeared completely. Some mornings recently the air has smelt of spring. Short stemmed primroses and helebore have appeared and today, after a week of exceptionally warm air - oh! catastrophe, it is raining. Real rain, not just in the valley but right up the mountain to above 2,300 metres – that’s as high as it goes in the skiing domain. Snow that has been rained on for 36 hours becomes naturally heavy and very unstable, making avalanches much more likely, even on shallow gradient in normally ‘safe’ places, the north facing slopes for example. The snow will slump down onto tracks and ‘pistes’. In this morning’s ‘Dauphiné’ a short article described this very event – a two-metre thick slab, thirty across, slid a long way down the mountain onto a run, where five Polish skiers were caught, though not fatally, but still, 50 CRS special police and ‘pisteurs’ were called out and set to work, using Arva, recco and other technical detection equipment plus probes, for an hour and a half before they were satisfied no-one else was involved; and all because one snowboarder traversed the slope, higher up. I have seen this happen, and it moves fast; one minute there is a covered hillside, then a crack, almost a roar, and there is a bare patch instead, like a cheerful grin on the hillside, littered at the bottom with lumps of snow as big as fridges, piled on top of one another. Not something to be caught in. Most people I know can tell the same story and know of someone who had a near miss. Or worse.
But wait, this is a tourist zone nevertheless. Visitors are here to ski or snowboard, so it’s business as usual - the runs are groomed, the ‘pisteurs’ are out in the early morning setting off their explosive charges to ‘sécuriser’ the higher slopes, and the ‘sécurité des pistes’ are on standby. The radio stations may issue warnings about the conditions, urging skiers to take care; not to venture onto closed runs, but they are still encouraging the activity, playing along with the ‘theme park’ rules. You bought your ticket - so you can play. The snow lower down is sticky and skis do not slide well, but tend to stop suddenly, sucked onto the surface. Try and go fast on it and you risk torn ligaments when this happens. Listeners are also advised to watch where they stand or park their vehicles around hotels or other buildings in the resort, where roof overhangs are liable to discharge a huge packet of snow, suddenly, heavy enough to dent the car or put a person in hospital. Not surprisingly, clients who arrived yesterday seemed reluctant to go out this morning, into the foggy mountains. The question everywhere is whether the snow will last. Livelihoods and not just happy holidays, depend upon this. Six owners at my Résidence failed to arrive this week to stay in their own apartments presumably because they know the forecast. If this continues, fewer tourists will come to the resorts. My friend Thierry hopes to make another month’s income from his ski hire shop, to support his family. A weather change at this stage is disastrous. So there is a feeling of desperation, of something drawing near to its close. Can the winter be nearly over? Oh, why didn’t I ski/ work/ get up /meet people/ ice climb more?. - but it’s true, you have to ‘attaquer’. My friend says it’s like a 747 taking off – a huge amount of noise and effort at the start then suddenly it’s over and you are coming in to land. It’s just happening about two weeks too soon.
Of course there will be more snow in fact, as the temperature dips again, probably up to and beyond the end of the season - each year there is snow fall in April. Spring snow is sought out by some skiers – the chance to enjoy the runs and the ‘off-piste’ in sunny weather and longer days, when the snow ‘transforms’ and becomes crispy on the surface but still retains some substance underneath, when fresh falls give delightful ‘powder’ skiing. The cold months have shifted these past few years – less snowfall in December and more in late spring. At work, the last few weeks of the winter season are generally a bit more relaxed – the big weeks of the February holidays are past, March is less busy everywhere and Easter trade is variable and depends on the weather forecast – too hot and people will head for the coast instead. Already my ‘responsable’ is saying – ‘’oh that will last, don’t order any more’’, and ‘’we’ll do that next season.’’ There are only four more Saturdays of arrivals! The technician at the Résidence suddenly realised this morning that he will have to start looking for another job. It is a time when season workers recoup the extra hours and days they have worked. Maybe I’ll be able to meet up with Severine who, with Jean-Michel has worked non-stop at their snack bar business in Courchevel with hardly any time off from preparing sandwiches at night and serving all day – I met her just once this winter, in a supermarket where she was stocking up.
But it’s no good complaining about the weather – after all, what should we expect? This is a wild, mountainous terrain, an extreme environment, marvellously beautiful but harsh and unforgiving for several months of the year. We are all, in one way or another, involved in this business which relies on appearing to tame these elements by using the snow cannons to improve snow cover at the start of the winter and making it flat and smooth every night when it falls naturally, investing in great numbers of mechanical means to get people to the tops of the mountains, where they could never normally reach in order to make large areas accessible to holidaymakers of all levels of ability and fitness. ‘’Ski The Three Valleys, 450 kilometres of prepared runs’’says the poster. It’s quite some challenge. But with complete disregard for all this, the mountain will behave as it always does when winter gives way to spring, eventually erasing all signs of human activity under a last fresh fall once the theme park has closed. Then the slopes are the preserve of those who, released from their winter jobs, are prepared to put their ‘skins’ on and walk up on their skis, just as the early skiers did, or be among the first to visit the mountain ‘refuge’ on the Grand Bec, as the snow recedes and maybe haul in some wood from the store under the steps, make a fire and heat up a tin of food, possibly stop the night, on the floor in a sleeping bag, near the stove.
Care to join me?
* * *
copyright Julia Austen 2015