Tuesday 1 June 2010

Belated tales of Alpine adventures


I guess I should have started this chapter of the blog about five months ago, when I first came to the Alps. But, here I am and here I blog... First, a quick update: after six months cheffing in the Tarn, I went to California to follow my dream of working at Chez Panisse. I then found myself in Verbier on 26 December, ready to spend the next week cheffing for CK Verbier, cooking and skiing my way into the new decade. As often happens, those seven days became four months and I did my first ski season - rather unexpectedly - aged 32. I couldn't have planned it better if I'd tried...

Anyone who has ever been skiing will know that there just aren't enough hours in the day - with all the skiing and partying to be done, sleep tends to take a back seat. Well, try fitting all that around working six days a week for an exclusive chalet company. But, we managed it pretty well (this goes some way to explain the lack of blogging - solitude and spare time are rare commodities during a ski season).













In my life as a nomadic chef, I have been able to come back to Verbier for June. It feels a bit like a ghost town, but it's extremely beautiful and tranquil. The snow and ice have melted from all but the highest slopes, leaving acres of lush, green grass and delicate alpine flowers. The blueberries bushes are looking promising and - if the weather ever makes its mind up - we may finally be in for some lovely summery days (May was a wash-out and over the past week it's been oscillating between sunshine, heavy mist and torrential rain...)

Although the mist has once more enveloped the mountains, the sun was shining hazily earlier today, so I strapped on my hiking boots and made my way from Verbier up to Clambin, where I even managed to find my friend's chalet - the last time I came here, we arrived by snowmobile at night, so it was breath-taking to see it in the daylight. Finding my way around is always a confusing process (I wasn't blessed with the best sense of direction), but I've already discovered that exploring on foot, unencumbered by ice and snow, is a revelation - at this rate, I might be in danger of knowing where I'm going...