It’s two weeks since I left the summer heat of the Southern Hemisphere and now find myself plunged into a world of whiteout and sub-zero temperatures. Two weeks since Australia, and the memorable Antipodean extremes that were so publicised by the local press at the time. From the Forties to the Cooler. My temperature range for the last month has now stretched to 57 degrees – and only 10 of them below. A post-it note here should get this into perspective. Australia – or the bit I visited, doesn’t suffer extremes of winter cold – Jersey weather down to [only] a bleating ‘ooh tooo cold’, 8 degrees I’m told. So in effect, its not Senior League. My best in Poulshot, UK, has been 35C degrees, [July 1st 2016] and -14C on one night in January 2008. That’s 49 degrees before you go any further.

The road on the approach to Morzine. Light snow at this altitude, much more up high.

The view of downtown Morzine from my window on a snowy first morning. Strolling through the centre you realise that the place is really an outsized mountain village, that was probably once just a market-town hub between neighbouring communities and outlying hamlets. In the last 40 years or so this quaint bucolic setting must have morphed into what you see now. A chequerboard of chalets and small hotels catering for the snow-mad crowds.

The not entirely pleasant sight of room-mate Verdigi taking an emergency work-call that was to save Royal Bank of Scotland from some undisclosed ‘messieness’. Or so he said.

Much of what happens in Morzine is interconnected with neighbouring resorts and ski centres – interconnected by cable cars, bubbles and chairlifts. The whole area, in what’s called the Portes du Soleil, offers over 600 km of snow pistes, countless high altitude walking routes and a myriad of other year-round outward bound activities.

Table-mat view of the pistes with intruding wine glasses.

You couldn’t help overhearing the English voices on the slopes, in the bars, or on the cable cars. Maybe it’s not quite the Verbier or Courchevel that the Mumsies go to with their misbehaved children; but it does offer proximity to Geneva, and hence any number of budget flights from all over Britain. You could tell that even with ear muffs on. Kids that were ‘too good’ for term-time school; Milfs with children called Talelulah and Caspar; and folk with harsh Manc accents – they were all holders of the Euro 260 pass.

Our chalet could sleep 11, and we were 8. Eleven would be too many, so in that regard we were lucky. It should also be noted that the size of the resort meant that we [and masses of other accommodation] were not within easy walking distance of the lifts. Lumping along in ski boots clutching skis and the rest of it is exhausting – especially when your place is 600+ metres from ‘ground zero’. The upside was that our chalet provided a free dial-a-minibus lift service to transport us up and down from the lift bases; and it worked well.

I bang on to people about framing a shot… Here a random volunteer confirms much needs to be done. The group finds formation on ‘Plen Pleny’ with a definite size/height fall-off.

The ‘Window on the World’ above neighbouring Avoriaz.

Here we go… Weather intermittent and do we worry about cloud?

Evidence of the recent heavy snow…

On a dull 3rd day, despite the conditions, we eventually found the recommended ‘Terrace’ restaurant buried under a metre of snow. In fact no terrace visible at all.

Above: ‘La Terrace’ shown in trendy black-and-white, [separated from the fluorescent dog] allows Mr Verdigi, a chance to check out the menu. Crossed skis aside, the scene was perfect, and in keeping with what we skiers expected.

Above: Tartiflette – a traditional Savoyard dish – composed as above and doesn’t come with a health warning. Given the weather conditions outside, this hit the mark. Grimbergen ‘Elixir’, is truly a fruity pint clocking in at 7% and more than that in Euros.

Lunch at ‘La Terrasse’ turned rowdy.

A DJ appeared, tables were moved and it was ‘Party Time’, a dull Wednesday lunch suddenly became an impromptu party.

Our Host. David, a canny Corsican who must have seen a fair bit in his time on the ‘Gourmand’ slope… as a Landlord what do you do with inebriated clientele when you know they have to skid down [pissed slide] another 800 metres to the safety of Ground Zero?

Shouldn’t we know better? The Bath Boys giving it a turn.

The smiling waitress takes time out to film the customers from table 6. Actually folk from every table…

Hastings and Tony – over the legal limit for a vehicle, set off into the gloaming down the perilous ‘Ardent Bleu’.

Above: The Wanderers on tour. Jim Tony and H. Not a ball in sight and it’s Thursday…

Nasty old Black runs…

Below: The view of the legendary Swiss Wall. ‘Mur Suisse’ as it’s called. Seen from a distance it looks insignificant, but its a serious ‘black’ in ‘pistespeak’. 333 metre descent at 27 degrees. Does medical aid cost more in Switzerland you are inclined to wonder when peering over the edge.

Clear run into Switzerland. Clear day and clear pricing. My beer below was bought with a 20 Euro note but it wouldn’t be ‘Swiss’ not to miss avenging this by rewarding me with Swiss Francs in change.

Lara and Morag take it easy in a stationary chairlift.

Steve – denied the chance to ‘do’ the Swiss Wall, consoles himself with Grimbergen and Swiss 4G.

Below: Tony likes the fact that the Swiss do ‘Treble cooked’ chips, but, ‘hah’ the restaurant is split by the frontier. Actually the kitchen is in France, the WCs in Switzerland. The Opadcha Café straddles the frontline, and gobbles every currency that might clink forth from your padded pockets.

So ‘did we have good weather?’ you might ask. ‘Would we lie?’ I reply.

We couldn’t blame the Swiss for this one – when the cloud is down its down.

Hastings disappears. Literally. 50 meters and that’s the vanishing point.

Clearing Skies above Avoriaz.

To those that don’t know. ‘Swiss’ [Tony] keeping abreast of things close and far. Mid afternoon catch-ups with West Ham versus Watford. A relegation struggle viewed from an Alpine slope and downtown community recycling drop point…

Above: Evidence of extremely cold weather and ‘texting gloves’ to go with it.

Above: The high rise of Avoriaz;  but with a wraith-like cloud of birds circling the buildings. The Alpine Chough is a rare and remarkable bit of ‘Corvid’ [crow family] engineering that is only found at extreme altitudes. The yellow-billed flocks might politely ‘whiffle’ around the tower block, but I imagine they are hardly noticed by the occupants. Their flopping butterfly presence reminded me of a scene from ‘Lord of the Rings’.

Deep deep snow outside a café – and skis that all look the same [to the untrained uncaring eye]. And a fire hydrant that sits 6 foot below the snow level, but must remain cleared in the event of an emergency.

Come Spring Time, do you imagine these houses will suddenly rediscover their gardens, and lost milk deliveries that were left in October?

Dawn on our last morning. View from the chalet.