Ski 14: Totally tropical

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An Alpine cycling adventure - Part II

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Day 6 - Barcelonnette to St Dalmas, 123 km (76 mi) Cols passed: Col de Cayolle (2326 m), Col de la Couillole (1678 m) Despite the brooding skies we left Barcelonnette cheered by dry shorts, confidence that we were within touching distance of our goal and enjoying the atmospheric effect of the wispy mist, high clouds and soft sunlight. Our hopes for the newly adapted route were met and surpassed as we wound our way up a stunning gorge towards Col de Cayolle. Despite a brief hailstorm as we approached the col we stayed dry and enjoyed a pit-stop and blankets amongst the snow pack on the col before negotiating over 1500 m of patchy wet descent to Guillames at 793 m. The high Alps now behind us we climbed back up through the ski resort of Valberg and on to the Col de la Couillole up at 1678 m and rolled back down to 500 m where we expected to spend the night. Our ever-supportive support team had other ideas however and let us know by way of text message that they had found a fantastic ca...
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The last time I wrote a non-skiing post was after we'd been to the farm on March 7th.  I had warned the readership (me) that the blog would be taking a break due to coursework commitments.  We have been feeling stretched of late so it is very pleasant to find myself on this, the first day of April, sitting alone at the kitchen table at 11am enjoying bright sunshine and silence.  Toby is napping and Auntie Ronnie, who is at home waiting for Jackson #5 to arrive, has whisked Felicity off to the grocery store.  I am confident that my Spec Ed course instructor does not read my blog and if she does I will beg forgiveness for not doing extra work but I think I am finally up to date. A quick recap of the last three weeks.  A week preparing to go on holiday, a week on holiday in the Dominican and a week catching up from being on holiday.  The Dominican Republic and the resort of Viva Wyndham Dominicus Palace (no less than a palace for the Fergusons, although I'm ...
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I am often defending the Ottawa winters, extolling the virtues of the endless days of cold, crisp sunshine reflecting off a blanket of cotton white snow, the sharp crunch of ice skates on the endless ribbon of frozen canal and the pristine dusted pines that hug the fairytale trails and snug, fire-warmed wooden huts of of the park.  Not yesterday.  Yesterday it was bloody awful.  The temperature fluctuated between -1 and +1 and the precipitation changed its mood as often as a two-year old child (I'm just guessing on that one, ours is as stable as you like).  Freezing rain overnight turned to drizzle in the morning, ice pellets by noon, then wet sleet and finally snow-hail.  It was cold, windy, damp and grey, deeply, darkly grey.  Grey above, grey below and grey in your very soul's own heart. All of which may make it seem a curious decision to head out on foot to the shopping mall, churning as it is at this time of year with unhappy and unrelenting shopp...
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