The C-word

Val Thorens, March 2020

My second ski trip was as successful as the first, after a rocky time leading up to the holiday when two people had to drop out - one woman because her husband had a stroke, and another man because he had damaged his knee. Luckily we managed to find two replacements.

We went to the same ski area as for my first holiday this year so I was slightly familiar with the runs and could make my own way round on the last day. The winter had been warm and spring had definitely arrived, so there was some rain and much melting of snow (also some fresh falls), but enough at high level to keep us swishing with satisfaction down the slopes.

We were a large group - 14 lovely people with varying experience and competence. Most of the time we split up into groups of similar speed and skill. One day was pretty cloudy but visibility was variable and I went out; the next day visibility was nil and it snowed a lot so I didn't ski. I had a wander around the town, some people went bowling, others sat in bars or had coffees, some stayed at the chalet and played cards. On other days we skied in bright, hot sunshine, which made conditions a bit slushy at low altitudes and at the end of the day.

With this many people in the group it helps to have a volunteer who makes decisions about the route and navigates as we go along. The main leader was the chap who had the thankless task of booking the whole holiday (and dealing with the consequences of those two people dropping out), but one of the others took over one day for an area that he was familiar with, and I even led for half a day to make sure we went to an area I wanted to ski. My period of leading didn't go as planned because one of the key pistes I was hoping to ski was closed and required a significant wait for a cable car and a major detour.

On the last day we had one of those situations when nobody particularly wanted to be in charge. There was also thick cloud in the valleys, so we started off at high level with all 14 of us together, stopping frequently to make sure everyone had caught up and to have long discussions about where we should go next which mostly went: "I don't really mind," multiplied 14 times. At one crossroads a decision was eventually made to go one way, and I decided to split off from the main group and go the other way because I couldn't bear the slowness and indecision, and also because there were a few runs I really wanted to ski.

I know when I'm skiing on my own that I need to make the time for breaks, so I did have a morning stop for hot chocolate and a lunchtime stop for my cheese roll. But I couldn't overcome my tendency to go for just one more run, and my legs were tired, and the unpisted run was lumpy even though not steep, and I fell over onto my shoulder just as I did a few years ago. Not serious, and it will sort itself out eventually, but last time it took about nine months and in the meantime my left arm is a bit restricted in its upward movement..

While we were out there in France we were all following various aspects of reporting on the Coronavirus pandemic. One chap had a friend who arrived in an Italian ski resort just as they closed the whole country down - his party was flown back to the UK the next day. Our chalet hosts (young men aged 19 and 22) were theorising on what might happen next week - there were 13 people due to arrive on the day we left. There were no particular restrictions in place and restaurants and bars were open as normal. We congratulated ourselves on a successful holiday as we arrived back in the UK on Saturday, and then on Sunday the news came that all French ski resorts would be closed with immediate effect.

The group after us would already have arrived at the chalet, including one guest who had booked only the previous day, to be faced with no skiing at all. We were all OK though. I had already started on my list of jobs - laundry, cooking, arranging the team for badminton matches this week - when news came through that one of our party had woken on Sunday with a high temperature.

So throughout Sunday messages were flying round - about his condition, about our different employers and their policies, about the guidance from Public Health England and the NHS 111 phone line. Those who could were going to stay at home rather than go into work, but my work can't be done from home and all the guidance said that you only self-isolate if you or those you live with have symptoms, not if people you happen to have been on holiday with have symptoms.

Since then things have moved fast, to the point that the situation is quite different while I type the end of this post compared with when I started. On the plus side, his temperature returned to normal after 24 hours. On the minus side, the panic buying, social distancing, daily updates from the hospital management, local, regional and national policies that change from day to day, the closure of my regular groups (badminton, Buddhism and music) and the cancellation of all of my spring and summer holiday plans. My diary has gone from a joyful mess of evening engagements, weekend breaks and longer holidays to a blank page with 13½ hours a week at work and the rest at home, save for the occasional shop for fresh and perishable foods.

I'm sure I will find more to write about the C-word soon. But I'm fine and so are my friends and family as far as I am aware, and we are all doing the best we can in the circumstances.