Valmeinier, France

I am not known as a particularly patient person. So much so in fact, that Mrs Mule has developed a military-style shopping strategy to keep me calm when we go grocery shopping in Tesco's. Initially, I helpfully go and get a few items from various aisles around the shop (being vigilant and taking my time) whilst Mrs M does the monotonous-but-essential weighing of Fruit and Veg.
Next, I go and get some other items from other aisles whilst Mrs ...
...she's in training for an appearance with Dale Winton on Supermarket Sweep. After engaging her extra-sensory powers to select the check-out queue that will move the quickest, we can vacate Tesco's within the hour and I haven't had to throw any children into the freezers, nor kick any walking sticks out from underneath doddery old men. Everyone's a winner.
Why am I telling you this? I hear you ask (with a hint of disdain too - shame on you!) ... more

I am not known as a particularly patient person. So much so in fact, that Mrs Mule has developed a military-style shopping strategy to keep me calm when we go grocery shopping in Tesco's. Initially, I helpfully go and get a few items from various aisles around the shop (being vigilant and taking my time) whilst Mrs M does the monotonous-but-essential weighing of Fruit and Veg.
Next, I go and get some other items from other aisles whilst Mrs M rattles around the rest of the store looking like she's in training for an appearance with Dale Winton on Supermarket Sweep. After engaging her extra-sensory powers to select the check-out queue that will move the quickest, we can vacate Tesco's within the hour and I haven't had to throw any children into the freezers, nor kick any walking sticks out from underneath doddery old men. Everyone's a winner.
Why am I telling you this? I hear you ask (with a hint of disdain too - shame on you!) I'm just giving you an insight into my life so that when I tell you that this travel diary involves me having to sit still, you'll have an understanding to why I had to promise in writing that I wouldn't kill anyone.
I had to sit reasonably still on a coach.
All the way to France.
For 19 Hours.
If 19 hours sounds like a long time to have to effectively sit and be patient, then that's probably because it is. A bloody lifetime in truth.

Knowing me like only I do, there had to be a very VERY good incentive in order for me to agree to undertake such a laborious journey of biblical proportions.
And Verily, I say unto thee. There was.
I was going Snowboarding for 3 days, and if you travel by coach you get an extra 2 days on the slopes for 2 nights accommodation compared with when you fly. This is because travelling by coach, you arrive into the resort at 9am after driving all through the night, and you go straight out skiing. If you fly, you then have get a transfer coach to your resort before you can get on the piste.
It works out to be a much better way of getting value for money from what are usually fairly pricey jaunts.
And unto him came the reason for his epic voyage. And it was riches.
As my 2 travelling companions and I settled into our seats for the journey, conversation turned towards planning our days out skiing.
In our party of three, there was one very good skier, one very good snowboarder and then there was me. Mr mediocre. I can slide down a Green or a Blue run quite happily, but take me near any Red Runs and the tracks left behind me look like those of an epileptic snow angel.
But fear not - I was told - my cohorts, Si and Will assured me that they would take good care of me and that I would be sailing down a Red Run before the 3 days were up. Excellent news.

For anyone who has never been skiing, a quick guide to the terminology:
Green Runs - These are very wide, beginner standard runs that are overrun with people in ski school and are actually quite difficult to manoeuvre yourself down because of all the fallen-skiers around you
Blue Runs - These are slightly steeper and generally not as wide as a Green, although they are still considered to be beginners territory by most seasoned skiers.
Red Runs - Reds are the "intermediate" standard of run, and offer the opportunity to go for long, fast sessions. These are often the busiest runs because most skiers are at the "intermediate" stage (no matter what stories they tell you in the bar)
And finally, Black Runs - I like to refer to black runs by their more common moniker - "a cliff" - they are very steep, narrow runs that only experienced skiers would attempt. Or at least attempt without having to do any section of the run sliding down on their backsides.
Luckily for me, no black runs were ever entertained as an option. Not this time anyway.

We arrived at Valmeinier 1800 in the Valloire region of the French alps at 09.30 after our long, long coach journey and immediately set about sorting out our lift passes and my board hire.
11am and we were on the lift for our first run.
11.15am and we'd stopped for our first lager. It's thirsty work this boarding lark.

By the close of day one, I was absolutely exhausted.
As we sat down for dinner with the rest of the hotel guests, I was beginning to feel the effects of a night of no sleep followed by a full day of falling over. I managed to play with my soup starter and promptly fell asleep at the table before the main course had been served.

The dawn of day two brought fresh enthusiasm borne through 14 hours of near-uninterrupted sleep. For me at least. Simon and Will had rolled back to the room at 1am, singing the praises of drinks made from Gin, Sugar and crushed mint leaf.
After the success of our previous day, it was decided that Simon - He of 3 seasons as a ski-rep and a very good snowboarder - would hire skis for the day, whilst Will - he with the ability to ski facing backwards - would hire a snowboard for the day.
I however, would persevere and practice on my original apparatus. For a while and admittedly it was a very short while, I actually looked like the most experienced of the group.
Simon and Will soon got the hang of what they were doing and it wasn't long before it was me trying to keep pace with those two once again.
It was whilst trying to keep up that I had my first proper "wipe-out" as those Gnarley youth dudes say. I misjudged a corner and rolled nipple over knickers down the side of the mountain and into waist deep powder. Imagine a child at the local Toby Carvery trying to climb out of a 6-foot deep ball pool and you'll have some idea of how I was doing.
As day two ended, all three of us were proud owners of some hefty bruises and two-thirds of us had a rather funny story to regale about a friend of theirs who fell off the side of the piste and flapped around like fish out of water.

Day three began with a twinge of sadness that it was our last day before having to face the return journey on the coach and was swiftly followed by a thumping headache as a result of tasting the aforementioned gin/sugar/mint cocktails. (They're bloody horrendous. I recommend them whole-heartedly.)
As by now I'd remembered how to turn both left AND right on my board (harder than it might sound!) we decided that, as it was our last day, we would go further a field and put some really good, long runs together. Hopefully culminating with me achieving my aim of a successful Red Run before the end of the day.

Well. That was the plan.
Sadly, It didn't quite go as planned.
To get to where we wanted to be took us an hour of slowly negotiating a very flat section of piste before we reached the bottom of the first chair lift. At the top of the chair lift, I dismounted with aplomb and set off down a Blue run that was about 4km long and would have been brilliant.
I say "would have been" because I never actually got any further than about 100 yards down from the top before I lost my balance and - not for the first time - fell over.
This fall was slightly different though.
There was no big spray of snow, or dramatic disappearing out of sight in deep powder.
There was, however, a rather prickly pain emanating from my right arm that seemed to envelop my entire nervous system in time with my heartbeat.
I took off my glove and pulled up my jacket sleeve to reveal an arm that Picasso would have been proud to paint. Hands aren't supposed to do what my hand was doing. And arms aren't meant to look like they've got two elbows.

So, Rather than have to endure another 19 hours sat on a coach, I was hooked up to a morphine drip and taken in a ambulance driven by Celebrity Crooner Willie Nelson to the local Hospital in St Michel and put into a room that was full of Japanese Ninjas in warrior dress.
An operation was arranged within an hour of me arriving to straighten it out and back to its former glory. I also think I met the Queen of England in the corridor on the way to theatre.
Apparently, Morphine often makes you hallucinate, but I don't think I did. Honest.

Needless to say my memories of the subsequent 24 hours are patchy, and are mainly limited to recollections of me speaking Spanish to the confused-looking nurses, who were French, and me trying to communicate with my French room-mate. Who could only speak French. No Spanish, or English. Not even the trusty English Loud worked.
Luckily for me it turns out that Esperanto isn't dead. It's just evolved into monocyclic grunts of censure involving anything American as we did manage to have a rather in-depth discussion about French foreign policy and the war on Iraq, mainly through Boo-ing when George W Bush appeared on the news.

Three days later and I was discharged from L'Hopital. By now my GCSE French has all come flooding back, and I'm even able to inform the ancillary nurse that "The Cat is UNDER the table." And that "The post office is closed" both were news for which she was seemingly very grateful.

It was a further 2 days before I would be allowed to fly home, from Turin Airport.
One of the advantages of Valmeinier's position in the Maurriene region is it's proximity to several, and I mean several, airports. Within a 2 hour drive, ther eare Chambery, Grenoble and Turin Airports. Geneva, with it's 50p Easyjet flights is about a 3 hour drive. All transfers by taxi would cost around £200, unless your insurance company foots the bill, in which case it's free.

I did get the oportunity to explore the sights and sounds of Valmeinier in these 2 days, and it really didn't take long. Valmeinier 1800 is a purpose-built Ski resort (Valmeinier village is at 1500 metres). in it, there are several bars ( I counted 6, I visited only 3, mainly thanks to the Gin/Mint cocktails) There are an abundance of restaurants serving everything from Fondue to Calzone pizza's, although you'll never find a full-english here. This isn't Val D'isere. And those aren't real Chanel Skiis, Madame.

You'll also find an ice rink, and a Cinema. Not in the same place, although it would be entertaining.

So, in a plaster cast reminiscent of one I once saw Harold from neighbours sport in 1992, I was allowed home, 6 days into my 3 day, erm, break. The news from the doctor in the UK was that I'd broken my radius and ulna in 3 places, and crushed sections of the bone at the point of the break. I'm healing well, and I've already booked myself in for a repeat trip next season. Although next time, I might try skiis…

Useful Info about Valmeinier:

Skiing From: 2600m
Number of Lifts: 35
KM of pistes: 150+
Blue runs: 25
Red runs: 29
Black runs: 15
off piste: Good
Slopes face: N. E, W
Snow canons: Yes
 

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