Disappointment ran through me. To ski you need snow, right? Well there was very little of that from what I could sell from the plane. My parents’ reassurance didn’t help either. “You have to get higher up” they said.
While were in the car, driving through greener then green valleys, my excitement was subdued to disappointment. Even as we were driving up the mountain no snow could be seen. Don’t get me wrong, France is a beautiful place but at that moment in time, some snow would have made my day!
I woke early the next morning, got changed and got into my ‘very well used salopettes’ and a thermal top. I was ready, breakfasted and all by eight!
Me, my sister, my mum and my dad all arrived at the ski hire place by quarter past eight to claim our bendy thin skis that would be ours for the week. The little grey building was hardly noticeable against the colourful, jazzy shops with mouth-watering and jaw-dropping contents in the windows. My skis looked old and rickety but I tried not to let that worry me.
My mum and dad were right. You have to get higher up and then the snow’s wonderful. The fresh powder was amazing. I went through it like a knife in butter making fresh tracks for others to follow in.
Relief and happiness flooded over me, seeping into every part of my body – I was content.