Alpe D'Huez

'I say, Bertie, I fancy a spot of skiing this winter. I hear there’s a new resort opened up in Alpe D’Huez in the French Alps. 1936 was the first season.' Aubrey looked at his man servant as he stood with back to the fire, steaming mug of Horlicks in hand. ‘I think we’ll avoid Bavaria this time. Too many of those frightful Nazis swanning around the resort and making a racket in the beer halls.’

‘Indeed Sir, and do you wish me to accompany you on this expedition?’ Bertie’s eyebrow rose quizzingly and spoke almost as loudly as his voice.

‘Bertie I would be lost without you. Even if cousin Mabel accompanied us I would have no-one to enjoy a good gin and tonic with over a blazing fire.’

‘Will you be requiring the Bentley, Sir? If so I will have to unfreeze the radiator and test the starting handle, as well as topping up the oil. I need a day to check everything is in order. The garage is still under a foot of snow.'

‘Absolutely Bertie. Make sure you use some of that Castrol oil left over from last year. We will take the Bentley to Croydon Airport and park her there for two weeks. It only costs 3 shillings to leave her on the tarmac.’

‘Golly gosh, Sir, that’s frightfully expensive. Would it be more precipitous to take the train?’

‘The train is too inconvenient Bertie, and even more expensive. Why, these days only rich people can travel by train! Could you possibly wax my skis and find my poles and boots, there’s a good man? They should all be in the attic.’

‘Consider it done Sir.’ Bertie’s response was as smooth as a Baileys flavoured coffee as he swung around and disappeared up the hall stairs to forage in the eaves.

As Aubrey settled down to a glass of port with Stilton and grape accompaniments that evening, his faithful butler peered into the room around the wood panelled door. ’Sir, I need to prepare your wardrobe for our trip to the Alps. What vestments would you like me to pack?'

‘I need my four Norwegian jumpers, including the red one with the reindeer patterns, that’s my favourite. I also need my khaki ski jacket that I wore in Bavaria last winter and a selection of my Canadian lumberjack shirts. Then I’ll take the boots that I bought at Harrods in the summer. I will leave it to you to include a selection of undergarments sufficient for a two week stay. Oh, and don’t forget a cache of my favourite Cuban cigars. You know how I love to smoke one after a workout on the piste.’

Bertie bowed gracefully as he left the room, ‘I will do it immediately Sir.’

The morning of the 15^th December 1937 dawned crisp and clear as Aubrey’s bright yellow Bentley edged out of the gates of Tottering Towers in deepest Sussex and wound its way towards the A23 trunk road. Soon they were belting along the newly laid dual carriageway with barely another car in sight. Aubrey wore his flying jacket from the Haywards Heath Air Training Corps and his brown leather helmet, gloves and goggles given him last Christmas by great aunt Sybil.

And so it was that Aubrey Lancelot found himself at Croydon Airport on the 15^th December 1937, booked on a flight in a silver and blue De Havilland aeroplane of the British and Overseas Airways company to Grenoble for a private transfer to the chalet.

Just a bit of fun!

　

Alpe D’Huez is a great resort for beginners like me. It’s shaped like a giant bowl, the higher you go, the steeper and higher the slopes. This is not always the case as with some resorts you have to travel high to get to the easy slopes. It is one of the biggest ski resorts in the world. I went there in the first week of the season when prices are down, the first week of the winter holidays. A group of about thirty of us took over a large and very cosy chalet just down the road from the most unusual town church.

Alpe D'Huez

I caught an Easyjet flight £158 return from Gatwick and we were buried by an avalanche of school girls on board in a state of hyper excitement. ‘Oh my gosh, see that guy over there in the airport bus with the red jacket with hood on. He’s in the Olympic team. Oh my gosh, I love him,' they squealed. Bobbing up and down and turning around in their seats like chipmunks, it made the flight a tad noisier than average.

Access is by a £45 return two hour transfer from Grenoble Airport which eventually whisks you up from the valley floor via a succession of hairpin bends to the resort at altitude 4100 to 10930 ft. The area has been used by the Tour De France as a stage finish, the road up to Alpe D’Huez having 21 hairpin bends.The transfer is run by Ben's Buses and yes, Ben is a real live person and not just a trademark. They have a great personal service and liase with you as you get off the plane in Grenoble, make sure everyone is on board before leaving with a proper register, and let you know what;s going on if there's a problem. I was impressed.

Dusk

I booked the holiday at the last minute for £378 which included a week’s half board in my own room complete with single and double beds, with very generous ensuite facilities. It's got to be a winner when the sink is large, man, and there's generous space all around to place your jumble of toiletries, as well as cupboard space. Complimentary shower gel and shampoo were also provided. 

A generous breakfast which always offers porridge is complemented by all day tea and coffee, tea and cake (extra yummy and plentiful) at 4.30pm onwards every afternoon, and a three course meal at 7.30 in the evening with as much wine as you want. But be careful of drinking too much wine as it overrides the sleep function in your body, and sleep is what you need as skiing is a full week's workout.

Hi from Alpe D'Huez

The chalet is pretty central just down the road from the church and five minutes from the ski hire shop. I had booked too late to organise my skiing from the UK and had to do it when I got there, but this was to be a blessing in disguise. At the shop I was told that despite having been skiing just once before I was good enough for the silver pack, 120 euro for skis, poles and boots for the week. On top of this was the ski instruction, 155 euro for 5/6 days (same price for both). I did incredibly well because on the last Saturday morning no-one turned up for the lesson from my group, it being changeover day, and I ended up having one to one tuition which is normally incredibly expensive! My instructor was a tree surgeon off season.

I also did really well with my ski pass as a woman offered me her ski pass for four days until her husband turned up. It meant I only had to buy a pass for a further three days. She said treat it as an early Christmas present!

I spent the first day of ski school with the beginners and then graduated to level 1 the next day. My first instructor was an older woman who has a vineyard when she’s not ski instructing (someone has to do it!). My second instructor was Cedric, a young Frenchman who pointed out as soon as I joined the group that 'we have nice girls in this group,' which gives you some idea of the attractions of being a ski instructor.

The gang!

A typical day for me was waking up almost without exception between 6 and 7am to ready myself for the day. This is normally unheard of when I am on holiday, but when your ski lesson starts at 9.15 an early breakfast is essential. Downing porridge with syrup, eggs, yoghurt and tea (on at least on two occasions I was the first down to breakers) was followed by a quick ablution session before departing with four layers (vest, thick shirt, fleece and outer jacket) to the boot room to collect skis, poles and boots. Then it was down to the 'lobster pots' to take us up the hill to the ski school. 'Lobster pots' is the term given to the ski lift that takes you to the slopes and the first cable car station, and every morning  there was a huge queue to get on because it's the only way up the mountain for the school groups, ski schoolers and ordinary skiers. Somewhat infuriating as it made us late a couple of times in the week, although the holiday manager gave us a lift in the minibus a couple of times. Ski school ran for two and three quarter hours, when you bond in various stages of incompetence with your fellow beginners. Every day it's someone's turn to collapse spectacularly or otherwise in mountains of snow when off piste or bone shaking thumps when on piste. This pastime is seriously hard on the legs and learning parallel skiing I found a steep learning curve as you try to balance on your outside left ski as you swing round to the right and vice versa. By the end of the week I reckon I was almost beginning to look like an elegant swan gliding across the piste, looking ahead and downhill, holding my poles in front of me, keeping my skis parallel, and bending my knees forward, but this was after no end of tumbles and racing out of control across the piste, miraculously staying on my feet on numerous occasions.

A highlight was going off piste on a couple of occasions with our instructor and into really deep fresh snow. This was a chance to show off one's balance in more extreme conditions or to disappear in a whirlwind of flailing skis into a self made hole in the snow. The first day I managed to sail through all this like an old timer and was quite pleased with myself. The next day I crashed and burned not once but twice as my street cred shot through the floor. 

Falling over is inevitable but to be avoided as much as possible given the extreme difficulty of getting up with your skis still on! I think the younger you are the easier it is. Imagine an upended turtle trying to right itself and that is how I felt. Every time I rose with the help of my poles, my skis slid away and down I went. The best solution was to remove one ski. Then you have the problem of getting your boots back in the skis when the soles and bindings are stuffed with snow and ice. One day I gave up trying to put my ski back on and walked down the slope, hard work at the best of times. When I checked the bindings at the shop, there was nothing wrong with them!

Afternoons are spent practising what you've learnt in the morning either with friends or fellow learners from the ski school. If your partner is about your level, you are likely to stay with them for the whole afternoon. If however your partner has superior skiing skills, starting the afternoon as a twosome becomes a distant memory as they ski a hundred miles ahead of you and only reconnect with you for late afternoon tea at the chalet, where they wonder what on earth happened to you.

With about thirty of us guests in the chalet it was easy to get to know one another and very sociable as we enjoyed dinner together every night at the long tables in the dining room, and were served by an excellent set of waiters and waitresses. Notices previewed the next day's arrangements and all important weather details (basically a bumper snow week!) and also notified us of evening activities which were mainly of the indoors type and variations on parlour games. These engendered a healthy level of competitiveness and a good chance to get to know the rest of the group. 

Before dinner we were led in meetings by a school chaplain who did a very good job of leading us in carol singing and some devotions and discussion on the Christmas story. This was an ideal time to collect one's thoughts and thank God for the day's blessings, including protection from broken legs, etc! A recent DVD of the nativity story complete with nasty evil Herod and convincing narrative was used to illustrate the devotions. In fact one evening's activity was to watch the film in its entirety.

So most apres piste activity stayed inside the chalet given the extreme level of friendliness of the guests, although on the last night some of us remembered there was a town out there and hit the Igloo bar in the centre of Alpe D'Huez.

. If you've never been skiing, give it a go! You will love it.