Black and White
7 - 12 March, Ian
We've now been staying here at Chalet Rosalie for
a week. Since it's a place we know it's like an airlock at the end of our
journey that will make our transition back home less harsh. It's a very
comfortable place, and attractive for being an instance of a vernacular domestic
architecture that's evolved continuously over centuries. Most of the buildings
dotted along the valley have the same style; some of them are ancient places
standing on staddle stones and built of wood that has turned almost black, while
others, such as our chalet, are also constructed largely of wood but with
supplementary modern materials and techniques to minimise heat loss. In England
we live in a farmhouse that dates back around 500 years and for which there is
no similar style continuing into the present: new houses in England are either
conspicuously modern or poor pastiches of the
past.
Chalet Rosalie is arranged conveniently, with a single kitchen/dining/lounge space on the ground floor, a drying room and basement below and four bedrooms. There are modern appliances, hot showers and underfloor heating. Yet it still feels traditional. The roof, like many around here, is made from large, flat stones the size of dustbin lids, but I only know that from prior visits: since we arrived this time it's been permanently covered in snow. It's situated at around 2,000 metres on the side of a hill with views from most rooms across the nearby town of Les Hauderes down in the valley and over to the far mountains. The chalet is approached by a narrow roadway that has also been covered in snow since we arrived. There are other chalets around but none within a snowball's throw, and the track in has had next to no use from cars other than ours.
Much of the hillside is given over to stands of larch, some of which grow into parabolas as a collection rather than in individual trees. When you sit and watch them they sway to a surprising degree in the wind. Animals move through the trees. We can tell this mainly by the fresh footprints each morning, but we have seen a fox, some chamois (from which chammy leathers used to be made) and a few roe deer.
Kids who go to school here must have an easier time learning about physical geography and map reading than we did at home. The terrain is arranged in a simple pattern of valleys between large mountains and you can often see all the way along at least one of them. When we stayed in the Ha valley in Bhutan we learned that if we drove to the end of the road and walked for about five hours (which would have violated our travel visa) we could get to China. Here, if we drove to the head of the valley and walked for a long time we could reach the Matterhorn. While not directly accessible by road, Zermatt and Verbier are both reasonably close.
The weather has been perfect, alternating between sunshine and snow. We've had only one day so far when it snowed too heavily for us to ski and then we went tobogganing down the road and built snowmen. As well as being a great companion for Paula and me, Steve, who was with us until this morning, has entertained the girls all week and had endless energy for larking about in the snow.
Today has been a typical weather day. I arose early to take Steve to the train station at Sion (our nearest large town). On the way back the snow got thicker as I drove back up the valley, and by the time I reached the hamlet nearest to the chalet the roads were white and the temperature was back down to - 12. I doubted that it was prudent to negotiate the track up to the chalet in the Audi, but I did it anyway. Well, I got up to the chalet but when I tried to drive the extra couple of dozen metres up to the only turning point the car hit the deep snow and, for the first time up here, wouldn't move on. I had a half-hearted attempt to dig the snow clear from around the wheels and under the car, but it wasn't enough to get me moving again, so now I'm hoping that the sun will come out and help me while I write this blog. If that fails we can either toboggan again today and hope for milder weather tomorrow or I'll have to do the digging out with more gusto.
As well as leading the snowman making, Steve also gave me an invaluable tech tip that has helped me get my skiing up to snuff. This time, the fact that we do have a month here has conspired with the memory of my accident in Banff a few years ago to make me a cautious starter on the slopes, and I find that I'm never at my best in anything when I'm holding back. It's a bad sign that I haven't yet fallen over: far healthier to crash a few times, as Steve has, which is an almost inevitable corollary to hitting a rhythm.
While the unseasonable number of snowy days augers well for our prospects for the whole month, it's on the sunny days that the skiing is best. Then the contours of the slopes rise up and present themselves most crisply and encourage you to take the fast line down. In the sun, with this perfect snow, there's little to beat skiing.
The chalet is in a quiet spot, distant in time and spirit from the famous resorts, and we have to drive to the slopes. The first that we visited was Arolla, where we've stayed previously at a hotel called the Kurhaus. As the name suggests, it's an old hotel to which people used to repair for curative Alpine retreats. It's a nice place to stay: you can ski down the through the forest to the start of the ski drags and ski back down through the forest to the hotel from the higher runs. The best and the worst feature of Arolla is the network of long button lifts: the absence of chairs and cable cars keeps the resort very quiet, but on the other hand drags are a drag. It is very pretty though, and Arolla even has a pine tree named after it. The hotel saloon, which is a nice old-fashioned place with comfy sofas and a big open fire, is also the first spot I've found round here where I can get wifi.
The nearest skiing to us is at the small town of Evolene, which is just a few km down the road. We've tried this once this time, but it's probably a bit too hard and has too many T-bars to suit us as a family just yet. When we went there I drove up to a small car park by the initial chair lift, which was extremely muddy when we returned in the late afternoon. Driving out, I found myself on a surprisingly steep bank, and the Audi, which has been impeccable on the snow and ice, began to slide sideways. With a car parked on the downside I had no choice but to try to squeeze the accelerator gently to get past it, but couldn't avoid a slight nudge. I parked up and got out and was met by the Swiss owner, who was beside himself with fury and indignation. He cleared off his mud-caked bumper with snow to reveal the tiniest of scratches in the plastic, which none of us, including the guy's own wife, could even see until we made the most minute inspection. I took numerous photographs of it, partly to entertain myself. While the owner was ranting on about calling the police (we really didn't care) and how we had to pay him for any repair he deemed necessary we strolled around trying to find the mark that so upset him. Steve, who may be nicer than me, found that the guy's bullying demeanour caused him to get quite incensed. I, on the other hand, could almost sense my pulse slowing, either in a visceral attempt to reduce the portion of my finite ration of heart beats that had to pass listening to such idiocy, or, perhaps, if it was a response conditioned by the workplace, to steady myself like an archer preparing to propel an arrow to its target. I gave him my phone number and we'll see whether he calls. Now, though, I want to find at least one opportunity this month to spend time with a more genial Swissy so that the girls don't associate the whole nation with un seul con.
Most days, though, we've been skiing at a larger resort called Thyon. This has plenty of long sweeping blue runs that are perhaps the most fun right now as we find our feet, and an even better assortment of harder runs for the coming weeks. The girls seem able to make their way comfortably down anything. A couple of days ago as a result of a map error we led them down their first black run and they took it easily in their stride. I think we all do better when we ski harder and faster.
Yesterday when buying a day pass at Thyon I learnt a new French word: nonante (I think) for ninety. Maybe if my French friends are reading this you can let me know if this word is French French as well as Swiss French. It seems like one of those words that once unleashed will displace the old word quickly. When Zoe and Heidi tell their kids that they had to say "four-twenties eighteen" for 98 it will sound as archaic as our grandparents reporting a time as five and twenty to the hour. Or maybe the true French language resists the simpler phrase, which is why pop music doesn't work in French.
After a week in Switzerland I've only just stopped feeling very tired. Maybe it has been the time difference from Asia, or the fresh air, or the activity. Fatigue has made us all slept well, and I've also been having plenty of dreams. One night I dreamt that I was somewhere that was half way to being a museum but yet was still in active use: not so difficult to understand after Bhutan. Later the same night I had a dream prompted by a recent invitation to a youth club reunion. Instinctively, in real life I immediately decline anything like this: some aspects of the past feel like a part of me marooned on an ice floe that has long since drifted away from where I stand now. In my dream, whose theme is recurrent, it was as if, conversely, I was on one of these floes in the past from where the future (my waking present) was completely opaque. Like too zealous a sense of right and wrong, our hazy and selective memory fragments us and stops us being psychoanalytically whole.
These natural but questionable antitheses as well as the topography of the Valais region remind me of some cards produced by a poet friend of mine (Thomas A. Clark) many years ago. There were two sets called respectively Proverbs of the Meadow and Proverbs of the Mountain. Each set comprised a dozen cards, each of which bore a strong, simple phrase under a strong, simple image drawn by Tom's wife, Laurie. While more pastoral in setting, the cards alluded to William Blake's Proverbs of Heaven and Hell. Many of us may almost be able to recite entirely The Tiger (Tiger, tiger, burning bright...) or The Sick Rose (Oh rose, thou art sick...) but I bet no reader can (without looking it up) even name a single poem from the Heaven series. As they say, the devil gets all the best lines.
Chalet Rosalie is arranged conveniently, with a single kitchen/dining/lounge space on the ground floor, a drying room and basement below and four bedrooms. There are modern appliances, hot showers and underfloor heating. Yet it still feels traditional. The roof, like many around here, is made from large, flat stones the size of dustbin lids, but I only know that from prior visits: since we arrived this time it's been permanently covered in snow. It's situated at around 2,000 metres on the side of a hill with views from most rooms across the nearby town of Les Hauderes down in the valley and over to the far mountains. The chalet is approached by a narrow roadway that has also been covered in snow since we arrived. There are other chalets around but none within a snowball's throw, and the track in has had next to no use from cars other than ours.
Much of the hillside is given over to stands of larch, some of which grow into parabolas as a collection rather than in individual trees. When you sit and watch them they sway to a surprising degree in the wind. Animals move through the trees. We can tell this mainly by the fresh footprints each morning, but we have seen a fox, some chamois (from which chammy leathers used to be made) and a few roe deer.
Kids who go to school here must have an easier time learning about physical geography and map reading than we did at home. The terrain is arranged in a simple pattern of valleys between large mountains and you can often see all the way along at least one of them. When we stayed in the Ha valley in Bhutan we learned that if we drove to the end of the road and walked for about five hours (which would have violated our travel visa) we could get to China. Here, if we drove to the head of the valley and walked for a long time we could reach the Matterhorn. While not directly accessible by road, Zermatt and Verbier are both reasonably close.
The weather has been perfect, alternating between sunshine and snow. We've had only one day so far when it snowed too heavily for us to ski and then we went tobogganing down the road and built snowmen. As well as being a great companion for Paula and me, Steve, who was with us until this morning, has entertained the girls all week and had endless energy for larking about in the snow.
Today has been a typical weather day. I arose early to take Steve to the train station at Sion (our nearest large town). On the way back the snow got thicker as I drove back up the valley, and by the time I reached the hamlet nearest to the chalet the roads were white and the temperature was back down to - 12. I doubted that it was prudent to negotiate the track up to the chalet in the Audi, but I did it anyway. Well, I got up to the chalet but when I tried to drive the extra couple of dozen metres up to the only turning point the car hit the deep snow and, for the first time up here, wouldn't move on. I had a half-hearted attempt to dig the snow clear from around the wheels and under the car, but it wasn't enough to get me moving again, so now I'm hoping that the sun will come out and help me while I write this blog. If that fails we can either toboggan again today and hope for milder weather tomorrow or I'll have to do the digging out with more gusto.
As well as leading the snowman making, Steve also gave me an invaluable tech tip that has helped me get my skiing up to snuff. This time, the fact that we do have a month here has conspired with the memory of my accident in Banff a few years ago to make me a cautious starter on the slopes, and I find that I'm never at my best in anything when I'm holding back. It's a bad sign that I haven't yet fallen over: far healthier to crash a few times, as Steve has, which is an almost inevitable corollary to hitting a rhythm.
While the unseasonable number of snowy days augers well for our prospects for the whole month, it's on the sunny days that the skiing is best. Then the contours of the slopes rise up and present themselves most crisply and encourage you to take the fast line down. In the sun, with this perfect snow, there's little to beat skiing.
The chalet is in a quiet spot, distant in time and spirit from the famous resorts, and we have to drive to the slopes. The first that we visited was Arolla, where we've stayed previously at a hotel called the Kurhaus. As the name suggests, it's an old hotel to which people used to repair for curative Alpine retreats. It's a nice place to stay: you can ski down the through the forest to the start of the ski drags and ski back down through the forest to the hotel from the higher runs. The best and the worst feature of Arolla is the network of long button lifts: the absence of chairs and cable cars keeps the resort very quiet, but on the other hand drags are a drag. It is very pretty though, and Arolla even has a pine tree named after it. The hotel saloon, which is a nice old-fashioned place with comfy sofas and a big open fire, is also the first spot I've found round here where I can get wifi.
The nearest skiing to us is at the small town of Evolene, which is just a few km down the road. We've tried this once this time, but it's probably a bit too hard and has too many T-bars to suit us as a family just yet. When we went there I drove up to a small car park by the initial chair lift, which was extremely muddy when we returned in the late afternoon. Driving out, I found myself on a surprisingly steep bank, and the Audi, which has been impeccable on the snow and ice, began to slide sideways. With a car parked on the downside I had no choice but to try to squeeze the accelerator gently to get past it, but couldn't avoid a slight nudge. I parked up and got out and was met by the Swiss owner, who was beside himself with fury and indignation. He cleared off his mud-caked bumper with snow to reveal the tiniest of scratches in the plastic, which none of us, including the guy's own wife, could even see until we made the most minute inspection. I took numerous photographs of it, partly to entertain myself. While the owner was ranting on about calling the police (we really didn't care) and how we had to pay him for any repair he deemed necessary we strolled around trying to find the mark that so upset him. Steve, who may be nicer than me, found that the guy's bullying demeanour caused him to get quite incensed. I, on the other hand, could almost sense my pulse slowing, either in a visceral attempt to reduce the portion of my finite ration of heart beats that had to pass listening to such idiocy, or, perhaps, if it was a response conditioned by the workplace, to steady myself like an archer preparing to propel an arrow to its target. I gave him my phone number and we'll see whether he calls. Now, though, I want to find at least one opportunity this month to spend time with a more genial Swissy so that the girls don't associate the whole nation with un seul con.
Most days, though, we've been skiing at a larger resort called Thyon. This has plenty of long sweeping blue runs that are perhaps the most fun right now as we find our feet, and an even better assortment of harder runs for the coming weeks. The girls seem able to make their way comfortably down anything. A couple of days ago as a result of a map error we led them down their first black run and they took it easily in their stride. I think we all do better when we ski harder and faster.
Yesterday when buying a day pass at Thyon I learnt a new French word: nonante (I think) for ninety. Maybe if my French friends are reading this you can let me know if this word is French French as well as Swiss French. It seems like one of those words that once unleashed will displace the old word quickly. When Zoe and Heidi tell their kids that they had to say "four-twenties eighteen" for 98 it will sound as archaic as our grandparents reporting a time as five and twenty to the hour. Or maybe the true French language resists the simpler phrase, which is why pop music doesn't work in French.
After a week in Switzerland I've only just stopped feeling very tired. Maybe it has been the time difference from Asia, or the fresh air, or the activity. Fatigue has made us all slept well, and I've also been having plenty of dreams. One night I dreamt that I was somewhere that was half way to being a museum but yet was still in active use: not so difficult to understand after Bhutan. Later the same night I had a dream prompted by a recent invitation to a youth club reunion. Instinctively, in real life I immediately decline anything like this: some aspects of the past feel like a part of me marooned on an ice floe that has long since drifted away from where I stand now. In my dream, whose theme is recurrent, it was as if, conversely, I was on one of these floes in the past from where the future (my waking present) was completely opaque. Like too zealous a sense of right and wrong, our hazy and selective memory fragments us and stops us being psychoanalytically whole.
These natural but questionable antitheses as well as the topography of the Valais region remind me of some cards produced by a poet friend of mine (Thomas A. Clark) many years ago. There were two sets called respectively Proverbs of the Meadow and Proverbs of the Mountain. Each set comprised a dozen cards, each of which bore a strong, simple phrase under a strong, simple image drawn by Tom's wife, Laurie. While more pastoral in setting, the cards alluded to William Blake's Proverbs of Heaven and Hell. Many of us may almost be able to recite entirely The Tiger (Tiger, tiger, burning bright...) or The Sick Rose (Oh rose, thou art sick...) but I bet no reader can (without looking it up) even name a single poem from the Heaven series. As they say, the devil gets all the best lines.
Posted: Sun - March 12, 2006 at 10:25 AM
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Published On: Mar 13, 2006 04:03 PM
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Published On: Mar 13, 2006 04:03 PM