Sauze d'Oulx, Part 2

Previously on Travels with Timmy... I'm stuck halfway up a snowy mountain in northern Italy, about a kilometre from the village of Sestriere which I can't see thanks to the near white-out conditions.  What to do?  Well, I probably should trudge back up the road I just skied down, and then try to find a route to the village and most importantly the gondola station.  But no... I have a compass, looking east I can see some more or less open ground sloping downhill, and I have skis on!  Over the top I go then, and slowly edge down the slope.  It certainly doesn't feel dangerous, rather the snow is so deep that I struggle to move at all... but then after only thirty metres or so, the fog closes in and I suddenly realise I am still moving, but can't see where I'm going or how fast... a panicked attempt to turn and I'm in the snow, with one ski off.  Oops.

It is at least a pretty area to get lost in.

Well, some luck at least, poking around in the snow I manage to find my ski.  The white stuff is waist deep however, and there is no way I am getting the thing back on.  Instead I proceed to wade, scramble, and slither my way down the slope - it is a very slow process indeed.  It's a considerable relief when I'm able to see far enough ahead to realise there is a road below me, although it still takes a while to reach it.  In all, I probably spend an hour or so getting down that slope and then walking along the road to the gondola, not really what I'd hoped to be doing today.  All good exercise I suppose, and things pick up in the afternoon as the weather clears a little.  Rather more lively in town come evening too - although I can't find any live music barring the karaoke in Paddy McGinty's.  Manage to slip over onto my backside a couple of times on the way down the hill, no bones broken though - that really would be embarrassing.

Maybe I should have gone with the train + taxi option.

Saturday, and I set out beneath cloudy skies, but it isn't actually snowing, maybe I can get to France today?  Or maybe not, I've stupidly left my wallet in the hotel so have to ski back down to get it.  Well, I still manage a decent day on the slopes, around the San Sicario area.  Interesting to see remnants of the 2006 Winter Olympics here, the bobsled track among other things.  All looking a bit forlorn and abandoned just eight years later mind.  Of course the weather doesn't hold, and I make my way back towards Sauze through more heavy snow.  I'm planning on some top Italian food tonight, after a fairly uninspiring dinner at the hotel last night.  Getting into town though it seems much of Turin has decamped to the Alps and every restaurant is packed - I end up with one of those 'selection of pizza slices' places.  And it is the best reheated pizza slice ever.  Better still is live music from the rather awesome Black Rose at Il Lampione.

Blue sky over Monte Fraiteve.

My last day in Italy, and a tiny problem in that there is so much snow on the road that I cannot get the car up the hill away from the hotel.  The nice people there let me leave my car behind and go skiing, assuring me that the roads will improve as long as it doesn't snow.  Of course, the moment I step back outside the white stuff starts falling again... I'm feeling a little bit down as I take the lift up, looking at a day of horrid skiing conditions and then who knows what problems getting back to Turin.  Then as I get towards the top of Monte Fraiteve, the high point above Sauze leading over to the next valley, I suddenly emerge from the clouds and see blue sky.  Time to stop worrying about the car then, and indeed I have a fine day of skiing, even crossing the border into France - funny, I have crossed international borders on skis a few times now, but never on foot.  A slight pity that when I get to France my lift pass doesn't work, turns out I should have bought an international one.  Easy enough to turn around and ski back though, and thankfully on my return to the village the roads are pretty much clear of snow.  Good thing as I still have a bit of trouble finding my way back to the airport... not to mention the fantastically annoying Italian fuel stations.

At the French border.

So, what's my verdict on Sauze d'Oulx?  Pretty positive really, there's a lot of good skiing here and it is a nice little village with a decent apres-ski scene.  I don't think I'd recommend the place to a novice, unless you fancy taking the chairlift back down, but if you're happy with lots of long reds and a few blacks then it's all good.  Cheap as chips also, in particular flying to Turin costs a lot less than, say, Geneva.  I think I picked an excellent hotel too, I would go back - although I'd be sure to bring some suitable boots for climbing up that hill to the centre.  Right then, where am I off to next?  Ah yes, Slovenia again next month :)

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Sauze d'Oulx, Part 1

It is winter once again, time for skiing then.  I did go to Morzine on the coach again last month, nothing really new to write about there though.  Now I am off to Sauze d'Oulx in the Italian Alps for a few days, I've never been here before so it should be interesting.  Hopefully a little easier to get to than Morzine as well... after a night at the Holiday Inn, Stansted (surprisingly decent food) I get an early flight to Turin, pick up my hire car and head out onto the Autostrada.  Navigating through Italy is a little tricky, I miss one turn and end up in Turin rather than heading towards the Alps, but still I get to Sauze easily enough.  Turns out to not be the best place to drive about - it is essentially built on the side of a mountain, so there is a maze of very steep cobbled streets covered with snow, which my front wheel drive fiesta doesn't enjoy much.  It all adds to the fun of locating the ski hire shop, and then my hotel right back at the bottom of the village.

The scenic Via Lattea.

Still, I am on the slopes by 2pm, and it is certainly nice to be able to ski straight from the Hotel Edelweiss down to the Jouvenceau lift - which is very long indeed, that seems to be a feature here, long lifts and long runs as well, for instance the Gran Pista which leads back to the hotel is fully two and a half kilometres.  Seems to be mostly reds too, probably not the best resort for beginners.  I have fun though, the weather is good and there is an awful lot of snow.  Rather miss my boots though - I only took hand luggage to avoid delay at the airport and Ryanair charges, the hire ones do not feel very comfortable.  Back to the hotel for a beer or two, plus some freshly baked snacks which proves to be a daily thing - very convivial.

Taking a breather.

Of course I have to check out the night-life of Sauze d'Oulx (pronounced something like 'Sohzy Doo' it seems) - sadly this does mean a fifteen minute slog up the slippery hill from the hotel.  Apparently Sauze has a reputation as the 'Magaluf of the Alps', can't say there is much sign of this on a Thursday night, the first few bars I look into are pretty empty, though I at least manage to get a decent pizza.  Eventually I find the party at Enoteca Il Lampione, where there is beer and live music.  Still not convinced it is much like Magaluf, not that I would know.

Sauze as seen from the Gran Pista.

Friday morning and time for a full day of skiing - unfortunately the weather has turned for the worse, there is a lot of snow coming down.  Not only is visibility very poor, but in fact there is so much powder that I'm finding it hard work to ski.  Still, maybe if I move to a different valley - Sauze is part of a large ski area, the Via Lattea - 'Milky Way' - which is comparable to Portes du Soleil in size, indeed you can ski into France - maybe tomorrow.  For now I head towards Sestriere in the hope of finding better weather there.  No such luck though... and worse is to come as I try to ski down into the village.  If the weather hadn't been so grim I'd have checked my map, and noticed that you can't ski all the way down.  I follow a sign labelled Sestriere but the piste dwindles away to nothing with the village still below, OK, following some tracks takes me through some hairy off-piste action and I at least get to a road.  But it is level, and perpendicular to the gondola cables that stretch off into the fog below me, so, I push along in the hope that the road will turn downhill and I'll be able to ski down it - sure is enough snow.  Sadly, while it does start to slope downwards, it also turns away from the village and slowly turns into more of a bridleway than a road.  Eventually I find myself at the edge of some woods with no real idea of where to go...

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Teide II - Cycling

The lightest, most expensive cycle I've ever ridden by some considerable margin.

So, been a while since I last posted anything hasn't it.  It's not that I haven't been doing anything, but more a question of too busy / lazy to actually blog about it.  Better late than never then I suppose, here then is the highlight, at least in terms of solo travelling type stuff, of my second trip to Tenerife of the year.  There was also a fair amount of lazing around by the pool, eating tapas and so forth, no need to document that in detail though.  Last time I was here I hiked to the top of the volcanic peak of El Teide - but did feel a little guilty in that I started from some 2380m above sea level.  One day I will hopefully do a multi-day hike to reach the summit from the coast, but I've only got a day to spare now, therefore the plan is to cycle.  The island is in fact something of a mecca for cyclists, for instance Sir Bradley Wiggins trained here, and so it is easy enough to find a hire shop.  I end up with a very impressive carbon fibre machine, weighing a whole seven kilos, for a mere 30 euros.  A quick change into my lycra (yes, I'm a MOMIL), and I am off up the mountain, starting from the seafront at Costa Adeje.

Despite the route being a continuous uphill slog right from the start, I make steady progress.  This really is an amazing bike, light as a feather and geared so that even up the steeper slopes I'm not having to fight too hard, and indeed I maintain sufficient speed such that the blazing sunshine isn't much of a problem thanks to the wind in my face.  I am getting through my water mind you, good thing the bike came with a couple of bottles.  Cars and coaches take care when passing me, I guess they are used to crazy cyclists up here... before long I'm at La Camella, 1000ft up, and not feeling too bad.

Into the corona forestal above Vilaflor.

The next three miles to Arona, however, prove a bit more challenging.  There's another 1000ft of ascent, the grade remaining pretty constant - i.e. steep.  By the time I get there I am feeling pretty shattered and am low on water, so I halt at a garage and buy some more, plus a substantial amount of sugary sweets.  While I am gathering my strength a German comes up and asks where I hired the bike, he seems a bit disappointed to learn that it was down by the coast... for my part, I'm beginning to have doubts about getting very high up this mountain, still, at least it will be easy to get down again.  My next milestone is Vilaflor - seven miles away, and fully 4500 feet above sea level.  It's something of a slog to get there to say the least, but, I am encouraged to find that while this certainly isn't easy, I am still doing it - at 1pm I reach Vilaflor, without having to get off and push at all.  From here I have another seven miles or so to reach the edge of the caldera, at around 7200 feet, it does seem almost possible.

The ignominious end of the uphill cycle.

One problem, I've arranged to meet my brother, who is driving up with his family, at 3pm, the plan being to go up the gondola together - that being pretty much as high as you can get on a bike at 7500 feet or so.  The other problem is that it is becoming progressively harder to cycle... it is pleasant here in the corona forestal, but there isn't a great deal of oxygen, and increasingly I'm having to take breaks to get my breath.  In the event I get to around 6000 feet before Dan catches me up in his car, not bad but nonetheless a fail.  The bike goes into the boot and we drive off to get the gondola, which is rather fun in itself, and there is quite a lot of snow at the top at this time of year.  Time is getting on, and I realise that even without the 'meeting brother' thing I was never going to get up to the gondola station and back before the bike shop closes at 6pm.  As it is I get a lift as far as Arona before freewheeling in a scary, but exhilirating fashion back to the coast.  So - an unsuccessful attempt this one, I shall have to try again - and start a bit earlier - some other time.

El Teide - at least I still got up it, albeit by car and gondola.

Peak District Déja Vu, Day 5

Kedleston Park.

Last day then, and it is a short one at only thirteen miles.  Turns out this is no bad thing as the first footpath I try to find from the campsite eludes me totally, and I find myself wandering around the extensive gardens of somebody's house looking for it.  My GPS tells me I should be the other side of a stream, and after the fun I had in a similar situation two years back, I give up and head back to the road, planning to circle around.  Then a 4x4 emerges from the gate behind me and pulls alongside, and I brace myself for a telling off - but instead, the nice chap points me to just where the path was hiding, 'between the two ponds'.  Onwards then, through more farmland, although I do manage to go the wrong way again... not too far though.

The Joiners Arms - good ploughmans lunch.

Some poor route planning means I have a couple of miles along a surprisingly busy road, and it is a real relief to leave it to enter another country estate, this time the National Trust owned Kedleston Park.  I've been here a couple of times before for the Bearded Theory music festival - it is rather quieter now.  From here a little more road and then some welcome footpath takes me to the Joiners Arms for lunch.

I continue to take advantage of past landscaping by the landed gentry, this time walking through Allestree Park which is now maintained by Derby council, and rather charming it is too.  From here I return to the Derwent, grown rather larger since I last saw it a few days ago.  The river takes me all the way into Derby, past the fascinating Darley Abbey Mills, and through numerous parks.  I reach the vicinity of the station, and have the good luck to find a beer festival going at the Brunswick Arms, what better way to finish the walk.  It has been a good one, not a drop of rain, nor a single blister... shame I have to go back to work tomorrow really.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Peak District Déja Vu, Day 4

I walk out of the campsite and straight onto the Tissington Trail, also an old railway line, and another childhood memory, this time of me and the family rattling along on ancient bicycles.  The Trail leads to Ashbourne, where I do plan to be later, but my route is a little longer, so I climb away from the Trail to the West.

Cottage in need of restoration on the Okeover estate.

In fact soon I am crossing the Dove into Staffordshire, whose footpaths are as little used as I recall from last time.  Still, it's pleasant walking through the rolling hills - seems a popular area with the landed gentry too, I pass through a couple of estates.  Then back to the Tissington Trail and into Ashbourne, via an impressive tunnel.

I eat my lunch in a field, the stilton I got in Hartington yesterday going nicely with some fresh bread.  Then out of the National Park... actually it makes a nice change, I walk through woods and then wetland, thankfully the path consists of wooden decking here.  Then a few miles of fields, and finally some road to reach the campsite.  Then even more road to the Tiger Inn, worth it though for some excellent sea bream and cheesecake.

Ashbourne tunnel.  Complete with sound effects evoking long gone steam trains.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Peak District Déja Vu, Day 3

On the footpath out of Hartington.

I'm breaking new ground this morning, thanks to the minor disaster two years ago I didn't do this bit of the route... turns out to be a pleasant mile or two on the Limestone Way, then I'm back on familiar territory, the High Peak Trail, one of two trails around these parts following old railway lines.

A few miles on and I leave the Trail and road walk a mile or two into Hartington, famous for its stilton, and a well of childhood memories for me.  The footpath I take out of the village is particularly evocative, I can almost see my former self dashing along, with my mother, father and brother following me.

Before long I join the river Dove, which I follow through Wolfcote Dale, Beresford Dale and Milldale.  Then just as Dovedale itself starts at the famous stepping stones I leave the river and take some little used footpaths to the campsite for the night.  I've made excellent time along the river, it is only 5pm, gives me time to have a shower and do a bit of laundry... shame the pub is a mile away though.

Following the Dove.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Peak District Déja Vu, Day 2

Back at the Old Nag's Head once again.

Thursday morning and I head north onto the lower slopes of Kinder, from here it's not far to Edale for an early lunch.  I have a pint at the Nag's Head, and a wistful glance at the start of the Pennine Way before heading off
south.

I climb up Mam Tor, or Mother's Hill as the information sign somewhat prudishly has it.  Then I follow the Pennine Bridleway and Limestone Way for quite a few miles, eventually reaching Miller's Dale.  Of course I have to climb down into it, then a steep ascent of the other side brings me to the Waterloo Hotel.

This is where things went wrong two years ago, when I arrived to find the pub shut.  This time I've been organised and phoned in advance, and so am able to enjoy some dinner and a beer or three by the peat fire, before staggering the ten yards to my tent.

Paragliders above Mam Tor.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.