After a slightly delayed start we finally managed to get on our way to the Alps. We left in pouring rain and storm force winds. After passing a turned over lorry and enduring massive tailbacks due to numerous wind related accidents, we ran out of fuel 1 mile after passing a service station. This was because my husband Warwick wanted to chance the orange light to see what the mpg was. Fortunately we were carrying spare fuel! The ferry crossing was a little bit rough to say the least.
Our new home for the winter is a 1988 Fiat motorhome that we bought just a few weeks ago, as an upgrade to our pop top roof camper, Pedro. Her name is Cassie and she is very cool. Don’t get me wrong I loved Pedro and will miss him dearly but Cassie is like a palace compared to him.
The journey through France was fairly uneventful with the exception of one rather hairy moment overtaking a lorry driver who was either drunk or falling asleep at the wheel or both. Oh yes and a rather upsetting moment for Warwick when Marshall ate his Chelsea buns. Marshall and Diesel are our 2 huskies who are accompanying us this winter season. I think they are still wondering when we are going home.
So here we are in the Alps, settling into the ski bum, van dwelling lifestyle. I don’t think I have ever seen this much snow in France. It was snowing when we arrived and we woke up to more snow this morning. Unfortunately the visibility was really poor today so we decided to go on a skijoring adventure in the forest with the dogs. The snow was really deep which made it pretty hard going. Snowshoe trails are quite gnarly on skis with a husky dog pulling you. The poor dogs just kept sinking into the snow so I ended up going upfront to break trail while Warwick and the dogs followed. I am not a very good skier but snowboarding behind the dogs is too hard for them if there’s any sort of incline and the changeover time of a split board isn’t practical with the dogs. They’re fast asleep now probably dreaming of perfectly groomed dog sled tracks.