Today nearly started quite badly. I got myself organised early, so I wouldn’t miss the bus. I waited at the bus stop. What I thought was the bus I should be on drove straight past … I was fuming. I asked another bus driver after waiting ten more minutes if it was indeed the said bus driving by – apparently not. I was waiting at the wrong bus stop. There’s about ten different bus stops at the Gare Thier train station. Easy-peasy. Anyway, I managed to catch the bus in the end, which was late. The scenery on the way up made up for the bad start and the long bus ride. But just over two hours from the beach to some of the best slopes in the world is pretty good. The cost at this time of year is at least half what one would pay in Australia, exchange rate taken into account as well. The slopes were practically abandoned. And there was more snow on the mountain than I’ve seen since Japan. Whistler wasn’t this good. There’d been no fresh snowfall for five days and there were still “fresh lines” to be had – a little crusty on the surface, but once I got going, it was pretty much powder. In parts of the back country I had trouble getting up once I’d fallen – reminiscent of Niseko. And I sometimes had the entire slope to myself. People just don’t bother coming up here at the end of the season, even though there’s still 150cm of natural coverage on the peaks … insane. On the way back there was a heap of congestion on the roads. I’d hate to see what this place is like in peak season. It would be a nightmare. Anyway, my wallet is empty again and I’ve yet to enter Italy. Switching from the little French I know to speaking the non-existent Italian I know is going to be hard work.
Not my best angle - chillin' with the Monkey - more like languishing with exhaustion
Two hours from Nice - even Moiwa is impressed, as you can see.
L'homme Libre 