Notes from Tignes, 2

Upon rising this morning I saw...nothing. The fog was so thick that the crane 200m away was invisible. I shivered and thought of staying in bed, but with only 3 days of skiing I didn't think I could justify it. So, I sent myself down for breakfast, thinking there might be news that the glacier was closed and I could let myself off.

No news. The weather report said it would get worse by lunchtime though, so, after discussion with Phil and Cathy, fellow guests, we decided to get up there asap. I went to my room to put on my ski clothes, slowly, not feeling it. I waited in the bar for the other two, balefully watching the rain pouring down outside. Phil and Cathy arrived, in sweats. "We decided against it today," she said. Slackers.

I wrestled on my boots with the air of a martyr about me and wrapped up in waterproofs, and we set off. As we went up to the funicular the rain quickly turned to snow and Alex, chalet driver, was unsure I would have an enjoyable time - to put it mildly. I tried to stay positive. "One run is better than no runs!" I intoned, gaily, whilst inwardly making plans to drink spiked coffee in the cafe at the top and regroup.

We arrived, and Phil and Cathy made for the skiwear shop. There was no sign the funicular was closed. Damn. Bluff called. I was as protected from the elements as I could be, but shivered in anticipation - there was enough snow to cover the slopes at the bottom of the funicular, let alone the top. I staggered towards the lift station. I'd gone about 10 paces when a coach driver called across to me. "It's shut!" he shouted, running his hand across his neck.

Saved at the 11th hour.