A motley crew of 5 assembled on a sky-blue and sunny but windy morning at the carpark at La Givrine to attempt a circuit to Chez Mamac for lunch at La Cure, anticlockwise. Good snow, not very recent but deep enough for snow shoes to be needed. Attending Mark2Ws, Richard, David, Nicolas and PeterT.
Apologies were received from various characters, some of dubious merit. They missed another good one.
We set off (after a quick tot of rum in Stanley cups) on our raquettes following a trail up into the forest, turning up onto a smaller one-raquette-wide path into the ever denser woods.
It was nice going, out of the wind as sunlight filtered through the pines.
The trail meandered left and right, up and down.
We were shortly back on a ski loipe but veered off it towards the right with hills towards the Noiremont in view. No helicopters were seen. A greek fellow in orange called Adulostas? was spotted shadowing our progress so we invited him into our party.
This was fine easy going and we breasted a gentle col in fine powder with spindrift blowing across the crystal surface.
We sped downwind across and over into the valley leading to La Cure.
Other snowfolk were out enjoying the conditions as we approached Chez Mamac, where Richard had indicated the wind would be particularly strong. Happily conditions had eased and we were able to sit at a table outside in the full sun sheltered from the mild breeze.
A most convivial lunch indeed. Trifon fondû and rösti, followed by crème brûlée and tarte citron, washed down by suitable beers and wine, followed by coffee.
As I recall it, perhaps not well, we deferred any vote on Scottish independence to a later date when we could interview a main protagonist. There was some negative sentiment expressed on Boris’s chances of staying in his role. Nicolas seemed pleased when he was told he could come dogging without a dog, albeit he said he wanted to get one. Kobie would also be pleased in that case.
Our route back involved a crossing of the rail and road routes over the col, to a trail in the cold woods to the south. This was a pleasant and fairly uneventful march back to the car, enlivened by the odd antics of Richard who proceeded to prostrate himself on the snow twice within 10 metres. We wondered whether he was trying to express something to us about how much he loves the white stuff.
Richard said he never falls… and then did it again.
We arrived safely back at the cars 90 minutes after leaving the restaurant, still in the slanting rays of the January sun, albeit we could see low cloud hovering above St Cergue and threatening to spill up onto us. Lucky lads, fun outing with fine company. May there be many more. About 9km and 250m denivellation.
