Yesterday, on the way to the Millau Bridge, we stopped off in Le Vigan to check for somewhere to stay for the night and then entered virgin territory for the one hour drive west. It was interesting countryside with alpine gorges, high plateau moors and strange rock formations. It was however too slow to consider this as a route to the A75 for a drive north but interesting nonetheless. The bridge was awe inspiring and we were glad that we made the effort. It crosses the Tarn Gorge near Millau and joins up the A75, north to south, thereby considerably reducing the journey time on this stretch of motorway. Back then to Le Vigan for a bite to eat and a nights kip before we ventured up the mountain for 'le ski'.
This morning we met up with Jill and Harry, who were 'in town' again and who decided to join us for our little adventure. (Please, no jokes about on the piste - Ed.) After the 55 minute drive up the mountain, Jan went off up the slopes whilst three of us had a lesson with Jean Paul. I think that I'm hooked. Learning new skills at my age is very satisfying, but conquering new fears feels even better. I may have been in the 'baby school' and only just capable of standing with these very slippery things on my feet, but I felt very satisfied and eager to continue. The only drawback, after an hour, was the pain in my legs and the desperate need for a rest. Wearing ski boots is a bit like hitting the lower part of your legs with a hammer and then wondering why it hurts. Anyway, it looks like next week will be quiet (the schools in Montpellier shut the week after that, and the place apparently turns into a zoo) so we will be back then. If you look behind the handsome couple in the picture above you can see how quiet it was. I can't wait.
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