Slaying the Giant

Even in resort there are two worlds, and they are worlds apart. From the inside of the chalet, the piste and chairlifts are framed, untouchable and unreachable as a tv picture. From the piste the chalets are insignificant, uninteresting boxes. Everything melts away when the skis hit the snow. Even the worst days and most hellish moments inside are forgotten. Not that there are many moments like this but after 3 consecutive 15 plus hour days, mountain time is to be savoured. While there are bars and clubs where your host could drink out the demons, the exorcise delivered by the mountain cleanses the soul far deeper than any pint could.

Come, let us slay this beast

And big demons call for big mountains. Giants no less. Beyond the reach of chairlifts and your weekly punters, these areas are reserved for those who know what they are doing. Step up your host, his rental boots 2 sizes too big and skis made years ago for the piste, not the image of the most competent of off piste gurus. And yet after the 20 minute hike in brilliant sunshine the Aguille Grive relented and we reached the peak.

Now this could go wrong...

The advice given to me before the descent comprised of keeping my skis together and to go fast while in control. Unfortunately the last two parts seem mutually exclusive most of the time, either your host has control or he has speed. And yet in the early afternoon sun, risking avalanche and death with the wrong equipment your host skied down in the freshest powder. Few feelings come close to the experience of gliding through virgin snow at too fast a pace.

It is these experiences that make the whole effort worthwhile. Yes the cooking is good, the hosting comes naturally and the cleaning, well it gets done, these are not the reasons why we do what we do. Ok there must be the balance, too much of one soon impedes on the other but the mountains are why we are here. The snow is the reason we work the hours we do. And the runs keep us coming back again and again.

Socks at christmas

Each week as the new guest lists are handed out, we hosts play a game. We try figure out from the names and sparse information supplied to us the identities and back stories of the new guests. Inevitably we are always wrong. One week its an extended family, the next it is a bunch of welsh young farmers ("hows it going Hughie??) and then 15 middle aged men from an all male outdoors society.

Each week brings a different demographic as deals and prices coax different people to the slopes. January is typically a fairly slow month, most tourists are either British or Russian. The local french population spent their money over new years apparently. With the lack of Europeans, the slopes are nice and quiet and lift queues are non existent. For your host this is a welcome break from the meat market that is the February half term.

As guests come and go, they like to leave things around the chalet, sometimes by accident and sometime we get Thanked In Person. Things left behind include a blackberry charger, two novels (which are now what we call "The Library"), a small baggie with a suspicious substance inside, and countless socks. Better still when they leave bottles of beer (flogged to the next guests), bottles of mixer (gratefully received) and best of all the half bottles of spirits (lovingly drank).

Your host likes it when guests Thank In Person, on a long Sunday it can be the saving grace to an otherwise awful day. Usually monetary in nature, these gifts allow your host to leave his otherwise meager wage untouched in the bank and enjoy the following week in a certain amount of style and comfort.

It can be awkward when they invite you to open an envelope in front of everyone, all you can do is thank them as much as you can and retreat back to the kitchen to regroup. On the very rare occasion receiving such gifts feels like socks at Christmas, fortunately so far our guests have been generous and gregarious and other such words beginning with "g".

So far the meter of jaffa cakes is winning

Snows and Eskimoes

If the eskimoes have 50 words for snow even they would be running out of synonyms. We have had every kind so far and it is only mid January. Flurries and blizzards and showers and everything else. Every morning the french JCB driver does battle with the latest offering from the mountain, cruising around the resort with the shovel down, scraping the road and crashing up snow drifts. Around here, he is the fastest vehicle, which is terrifying to watch. Especially when the sun is yet to breach the mountain tops and your host's work jacket merges with the early morning gloom.

Someone once told me that it was the law in France for vehicles to be equipped with snow chains. If this is true then no one has told the french. Hours of amusement can be had from watching the hapless citroens and renaults struggle for grip as they slide up and down the roads. Even better when a high end beamer turns up, fish tailing round the bends and, for once, giving way to other traffic.

The work continues the same, only the details change. Days and meals start to merge after a while, and the cookbook slowly gets left to the side. We were also told that the recipes had been developed for a year, not sure who they got to develop them but some of the methods and quantities do not stand up to scrutiny. But we adopt, adapt and improve and by the end of the season these books will be scribbled over and scratched out.

The snowsport lifestyle and culture is all pervasive, cafes hang skis from the roof, an evenings relaxation consists of freestyle films. The films are chocked full of mad snowboard and ski routes from all over the world, carving up fresh powder and riding lines on the most remote peaks. Now Redbull is in town as well, promising the best skiers and boarders doing what they do best, painting their art onto untouched canvases. There truly is art and a beauty in a perfectly carved line. Though it may be at least a couple of seasons before your host could even dream of making such art.

Sun, snow and the mirror

It is the guests that make the host. The guest host dynamic is a symbiotic relationship, as a host one can only do so much for the guests and if they do not reciprocate then the level of service can only be so high. Good guests interact and help create a positive feedback circle and when this happens the service and relationship can only get better. And sometimes the only thing that makes the holiday is the relationship between staff and customer.

Each week there are different guests and each week there is a slightly different host to greet them. As each week requries a different character, tone and style.

The last week has seen beautiful sunshine and pretty clear runs, after the busy rush of christmas and new years, the crowds melt away. The resort empties as the europeans leave for work and other pursuits. The lift queues are blessedly small and the pistes are nice and quiet, just how your host likes his skiing.

And in the wintertime when the weather is high, the chairs take you up so you can touch the sky, when the snow is right you got skiing on your mind. And the good weather lifts the spirits and spurs your host on to new speeds and new slopes, there is almost the intagible feel of springtime about the place.

Sometimes its made in chelsea, but right now its made of snow.

Someone Else's Christmas

It is the season to be jolly and so on, this is made a little hard by a couple of things. First, the French dont do christmas. Second, christmas is another working day like any other. Breakfast is laid out, rooms have to be cleaned and the turkey has to be prepped. Our token to christmas is a decorated tree which drops needles like a busted junkie. Oh the brits and the expats do their best to festen the place up but somehow it just is not the same.

The yearnings for a home Christmas were compounded by our guest's own Christmas. A sort of tradition, by which they join up and for one week go skiing for Jesus's Birthday. Picture the scene as 13 adults, including two grandmothers sit in sofas around the tree and 2 young girls hand out the presents from beneath the tree. It is a strange feeling to watch someone else celebrate something that you might do yourself, and though they did make us feel welcome at the table it was still very much their Christmas.

Having said this, not much beats skiing all day boxing day. Good weather, fresh powder and over 400 km of snow. And New years is a completely different beast altogether. With the focus around a designated time rather than an activity and the generally more sociable aspect, new years makes for a more inclusive party. Having said that work still comes first, the lucky ones are gifted the morning or the day off by their guests. Your host, however, was up at quarter past seven new years day, after heavy celebrations, to set out breakfast. What a hero.

So far the work ski balance is definitely out of kilter. The hours are still long, and the skiing is slowly becoming more and more frequent, but the flow and organisation that comes from the regular exercise of specific tasks is still lacking. In the interview, your host was asked how he would cope with a set menu, cooking the same dishes week in and week out. The reality is that there is the scope and the need for constant improvisation. When stores run out or deliveries are forgotten or guests turn up with unannounced dietary requirements we must meet the challenge and still cook a meal that looks like it  was meant to be served the way it was.

But this is meant to be the peak, from here on out, as the skiers say, its all down hill. Your host is hoping for a long fast fresh powder red rather than a mogully icy black.