There was laughter under the clouds over Monts-Valin the minute the expedition members put on their ski-hoks – a cross between skis and snowshoes. The deep powder snow was just fine for the most improbable ski moves and reckless downhills, and it was fall time for all. Each fall more hilarious than the next one, face first in the snow, skis catching a hidden root, body flying forward, a domino effect fall in a climb, a naturalist kissing a tree on his first downhill, or one of Dawson’s many falls as his go-pro captures the imminence of his hitting the snow. Champion of the day was Naïla, the expedition nurse, who selected a different route than the one along the cliff suggested by our guide. She simply disappeared in the deep snow. She had moved too close to what seemed a very small fir tree, the ground opened up under her. Having spent some time trying to get out of her predicament, the guide came to her rescue with his shovel all the while laughing his head off like the rest of us. Catherine, who is presently lying in her sleeping bag near me, is still laughing.
The storm raged all day. A record-breaking storm; the sky did not fall, but almost. The wind and the snow combined in a winning formula for a blowing snow experience reminiscent of a mountain expedition. At the end of the day, as an apology, came a meagre crescent of blue sky and a feeble attempt by the sun to shine on us. Then ghost valley lit up, as the snow-laden trees became strange creatures under the lights. Afar, the dark, stormy sky offers an impressive contrast.
Tonight, we dine at Richard’s Palace. Time for a “high”, a surprise we unpack when all the expedition members are feeling particularly well.
It will be a rather cold night at the camp. The moon is nearly full under a starry sky. Marika comes up with one of here wise poetic sayings: remember to make sure panic doesn’t spoil the fun!