Powder day: a day on which fresh snow has fallen
Bluebird day: a cloudless, sunny day
After making us work hard for our kicks, on several levels, for the first five days, the mountains have relented. We awoke on Saturday morning to find the trees outside the apartment's balcony freshly whitened, with snow still falling; higher up, every surface was covered in six inches of the softest, fluffiest snow.
Which was all well and good, except I hadn't ever really skied in powder before. And I was trying to keep up with an expert skier and two good snowboarders - Marianne, Stephen and a genial Swiss called Greg; the latter easily identifiable by his helmet cam.
"Turn slowly and crouch low," said Marianne, with infinite wisdom. So I did my best, tried to stay on my feet, kept the arm flailing to a minimum. And, as the hours passed and the snow continued to fall, it all began to make sense. There's nothing quite like the sensation of floating through snow like this. Like skiing in silk. Steve led us off-piste through some truly stunning terrain; out of my comfort zone, but life-affirming stuff.
The flipside of a powder day - especially if it falls at a weekend - is crowds. And with crowds come queues and accidents. For some reason, I was invisible on Saturday. Three different snowboarders collided with me, with varying fallout: the most serious took my feet out from under me and gashed my new ski. Ah, well. Happens.
On Saturday evening, we were joined by our first visitors from the UK - Cheryl and Simon; Cheryl and Marianne are friends through work. This morning they were, not surprisingly, raring to go, and 8.15am found us on our way up the mountain. It was bright and sunny, a morning of impossible views and bitter cold: the board at the top of the main lift read -15C.
Today was a day of smooth, hard pistes with occasional forays into the trees either side, of allowing our new companions to find their feet. We were joined by Kirsten, whom I met in ski school last week. Jetlag notwithstanding, Cheryl and Simon coped admirably with mile after mile of lightning-fast cruising. The lifts were already closing by the time we pointed our skis downhill for the last time, tired legs braced for one final effort. A day to savour.
Steaks all round tonight. We've earned them.
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