Day 5 - Wednesday > Tuesday

17:30
I sleep badly, again. My health tracker reckons I’ve had around 4 hours. I think that’s slightly undercooked, but it’s not a good and long sleep, by any stretch. I woke up a few times bunged up and mouth breathing. I give up around 05:00, and get up for some cold and flu tablets, and in the hope that sitting upright might help me breathe better. Things aren’t looking great.

I ping my team-mates to check on plans, and decide to give the mountain a go, even if it’s short lived. I’ve a few days left of my trip, but I know I’ll regret it if I don’t make the most of it.

It’s cloudy out, and colder than the past few days. On the first chairlift, I wonder if I’ve made a stupid mistake. My eyes are streaming a little, as is my nose. I feel I’ve pushed through the fever, but am still living in Cold Town.

Heading down the first run of the day, something changes. I’ve known a day on the slopes to do wondrous things to a hangover, but it transpires it can have the same crippling effect on a cold. For the next couple of hours, I barely think about how I’m feeling. It’s not that I’m distracted by skiing - but more that the freshness of the air, the speed down the mountain just make the cold irrelevant. I don’t really feel any symptoms until we stop for lunch. It’s been a good morning.

Post lunch, we hit a few more runs. I’m feeling it by 14:00. SSJW are heading home tomorrow, so have an appetite for more. I have a couple of days left, so feel less urgency to wring every possible moment out of the day. I head down a super steep and bumpy red run back into resort. I pause a couple of times - ostensibly to take photos, but really to take a breath. I mean - the photos are pretty, but who am I kidding?

Back at my apartment, I kind of expect to collapse in a heap, but don’t. I’m surprised that I quite fancy a glass of wine.

Around 15:00, Team Helmet are also done, and we meet at one of our favourite village bars - Bistrot Montagnard. Several pichets of wine later, we head in our different directions. I’m off for the hottest shower known to man, whilst the others are heading for a vin chaud. We’re meeting for dinner at 19:00. I feel approximately a million percent better than I did at this time yesterday. Boyackashack.

22:00
Dinner is at Transalpin, an Italian place that SSJW have been to a few times. I’m ready a little ahead of our 19:00 booking, so head out for a walk. I’m kinda looking for a bar to saunter into, and from which to stagger out. I’m quite disappointed in this regard. The lower end of town has a ton of cool little bars, but I’ve headed up town, where there are none. I hear some music playing nearby, and realise I’m close to the wine shack we visited a couple of days ago. After a short but strenuous cross country walk (my fault - I ignored the very straightforward way to get there), I arrive, and order a vin chaud. The lovely person working behind the bar explains to me that there are options - involving Jagermeister, Genepi, and some other local firewater, the name of which I don’t quite get. I opt for the plain old vin chaud, and it tastes like it’s got Jager in it. It’s very nice though. The DJ is spinning some questionable house music, there are a couple of fires roaring away, the scenery in the background is beyond breathtaking - it’s a pretty cool place to be. I manage a second vin chaud, and feel well.

I bump into SSJW heading down to the restaurant. Transalpin has a stellar reputation for their food, and I’m very excited to try it. We order carafes of wine that are 1 litre - one of rosé, one of red. We order food. Lots of it. My starter is a brilliant octopus and potato salad. I love octopus. When it’s done properly, I think it’s the equal of any seafood out there. I’d take it over lobster any day of the week. It’s a brilliant dish, garnished with some interesting ‘blobs’ of sauce - one of which Jamie declares to be octopus sperm. Irrespective, it’s delicious. I think it’s a high-end tarama myself, but what do I know?

My main is a wild boar ragout with some sensational house-made tagliatelle. All kinds of amazing. The boar is perfectly braised into a rich tomato and wine laden sauce. Buckets of yum. Everyone else seems to enjoy their food. And their wine. Jamie in particular - who is verging on narcoleptic by the end of our meal. Bless - he’s had a big day…

Simon is full, and acquiesces on his share of the red wine. I’m slightly intimidated by the task that is in front of me - but happily, my colleagues step in to help. The bill is reasonable, and the dining experience has been excellent. Not an everyday meal while skiing, but an awesome once per trip treat while we’re here.

While we’re eating, we discuss ski plans for next year. This is my first trip to Montgenevre, but about number 4 or 5 for SSJW. They’ll come back, and I’ll happily join them. We all agree that we need to sell it to Vicki. We think she’d love it here, even though it’s a quieter resort than the likes of Courchevel or Val D’Isere. There’s plenty of fun to be had. Oh, for sure…

I’m conscious that my cold is still lurking. I’m not super tired, but don’t fancy the idea of another glass of wine. I head back to my apartment to chill, and contemplate what might hopefully be a better sleep.Læs mere