Day 1: Sunday 15 March 2020
I am growing a beard. It’s an odd decision, made on a very odd day.
Last night I was sat in Planjo, the Sainte Foy commune’s village hall situated on one of the bends on the road from the station down towards Chef Lieu (where the Hotel Le Monal is located). We were listening to Yannick Amet orchestrate a hustings for the mayoral elections. Yannick was in full flow, enjoying the spot light, and waxing lyrical about why his ‘liste’, team of 15 candidates, should be the next council, and why he of course should be the new maire.
As is their want these days on such occasions, the audience and presenters alike were reading messages on their phones and, where they were entertaining enough, pinging them on to their friends. One such message raised an eyebrow, and Yannick informed us that all bars and restaurants had been ordered to close with effect from midnight that day. This was an audience with a vested interest in the financial success of Sainte Foy ski resort, and with a month of the ski season still to go, this created the loudest whispering noise I have ever heard.
After the meeting we headed back up the hill to Sainte Foy station, and did what any normal person would do after receiving a message that the bars were being forced to close in a few hours time, with no clue offered as to when they might reopen. We went to the bar!
Flights were being cancelled at an alarming rate, but thankfully the ‘Prefecture’ gave François Piquet, the ‘directeur opérationnel de la station, SFTLD’ permission to run the lifts for one last day. In the Alps, only Sainte Foy and La Rosière ran their lifts today. Time to Ski heard this news last night, and we immediately cancelled all Sunday changeover work, instructing staff to go out and make good use of their ski passes! It was a fabulous day out on the mountain, but twinged with the sadness of something coming to an end before its time.
At 17h00 today, by official decree of Monsieur le Maire, Sainte Foy ski station and the ‘domaine skiable‘ was closed to public access.
Day 2: Monday 16 March 2020
Woke up this morning, and not really sure what’s happening. The season’s over, that’s for sure. The bars and restaurants are sort of closed. Some are exploiting the line that they can serve takeaways and are placing a table in the doorway and serving drinks over the table to those outside. Well, it has been a sunny day.
I went skinning with a couple of friends, up though Le Monal and on to the Vallon du Clou. There is talk of a further clampdown so we are making the most of it while we can.
Emmanuel Macron addresses the nation. It’s a 25 minute speech imploring us all to do our bit to get through this ‘période troublée’, ending with those immortal lines “Vive la république, vive la France” and closing out with a few upbeat bars from La Marsellaise. We are well and truly in lockdown now.
Day 3: Tuesday 17 March 2020
Growing a beard, (Thing 1 I never thought I’d ever see), requires time and patience. Time, it appears, I now have in abundance, and patience follows when you have plenty of time. Let’s see how this goes.
The bars and restaurants still seem to be trading on their ‘takeaway’ ploy.
The lifts are silent now. The télésiege chairs hang quietly on their wire ropes and there are no splashes of fluorescent colour to alert you to the presence of skiers. There are no more skiers anymore.
The pistes haven’t been groomed since early Sunday morning, but many of them still wear their corduroy surface with pride, the telltale sign that piste bashers once passed over them when the Sainte Foy was still open for business. I know this because I went out for a run up to then top of Arpettaz, the second lift. We are allowed out, up to two km from where we live, and as the crow flies, I think this is ok.
Day 4: Wednesday 18 March 2020
Well things certainly changed today. I find myself living on mainland Europe under a gendarme enforced total state lockdown. (Thing 2 that I never thought I’d ever see).
This afternoon we had police helicopters flapping around in the sky above us, swiftly followed by the arrival of several gendarmes to clear the decking where the ‘takeaway’ bar clients were continuing to enjoy sunshine and beer. It wasn’t a negotiation.
Day 5: Thursday 19 March 2020
We have new lockdown rules. You are only allowed out of your chalet for:
a) Essential work activities, and only when you can’t ‘télétravail’, work from home.
b) Purchases of ‘première nécessité’, urgent food supplies.
c) Medical consultations or to pick up medical supplies.
d) To help vulnerable people or young children.
e) Short excursions of less than one hour for ‘l’activité physique’, on your own or with people you live with, and within a one kilometre radius of where you live.
As a keen trail runner and member of Taren’trail running club in Bourg, being cooped up in the chalet all day is torture enough without being restricted to one hour and one km from home. So these rules need examining.
First observation, a 1 km radius from where I live on a flat map of Sainte Foy allows me up to Plan Bois. So as long as I run quickly enough, I can easily get there and back within my allotted hour. In fact, I can get to the bottom of the Marquise chair and back, but that’s probably stretching my new distance restriction slightly. Hardly adequate training for the Ultra Tour de Mont Blanc, but infinitely better than doing press ups on the balcony.
Second observation, I didn’t see any gendarmes up the mountain policing the distance rule.
Day 6: Friday 20 March 2020
In the lockdown world in which I find myself, I decided to prepare a big batch of coq au vin tonight, most of which would be frozen in the big chest freezer I am using to store nutritious meals which I’m hoping will get me through to a post coronavirus world.
This brave new world is presenting me with clouds, and silver linings, but not necessarily in that order. This time the silver lining came first, in the form of a fabulous bottle of Saint-Émilion Grand Cru which I opened with the intention of turning my chicken purple. Too good for purpling chicken, this was promoted to what is commonly known as ‘chef’s privilege’. I opened another bottle of purple dye to flavour my chicken with, and carried on with making sure the Saint-Émilion was ok. Such is life in hermit world!
Day 7: Saturday 21 March 2020
Woke up to discover the cloud to last night’s silver lining was the suboptimal functioning of a thick head. Thankfully there’s no rush hour in lockdown world to worry about.
One week in and my chin is starting to bear the whiskery fruits of not having been shaved for seven days. I’m quite pleased with the early development of this beard growing game, and I’m now wondering if in some weird way it will protect me from contracting the virus?
