Voyage to Andorra. Part 3
After breakfast, we dropped in on friends who had already woken up. They asked us why we ignore them?!!!! ! They suggested that we meet on the mountain today. They will ride somewhere out there, on tracks acceptable for the real level of skiing. Yes, no question!
The sky was overcast. But there was still no snow. The breeze blew. When they climbed the slope, the cabin rocked slightly, and a distinct whistle was heard in the cables. Y-yes, fun!
But, only after leaving the cabin, I realized what the forecasters had in mind. The wind blew in gusts that could knock you off your feet, raising clouds of prickly ice into the air, digging into your muzzle. I hate balaclavas, but now I regret that I don’t have them on. Fortunately, this was not always the case and far from everywhere. We managed to find quieter places. But there were moments... Once the wind blew with such force that, standing on the edge of the blackest road, I simply slid down on straight legs - the wind slowed me down so much that there was not the slightest need to do at least some maneuvers. And strangely, wherever we went, the wind strove to blow exclusively in the face. The wind in the mug, and I'm spitting!
I also forgot about one thing. When we and our friends for the first time after the Caucasus came to Bukovel, who had seen only round mobile snow cannons before, they were lost in conjectures about the purpose of strange pillars sticking out everywhere along the roads. Some claimed that these were lights for night skiing, while others claimed that they were barriers. True, why the hell to put barriers every eleven meters? Apparently, in order to slow down the scrap, one barrier will not be enough! And all because we have never seen these stationary guns at work. Snow was made at night. So, on the previous day, several guns were working on the slopes. And I tell you, when you drive past one of them, the pleasure is so-so - the glasses are covered with splashes, and for a while you lose your sight. And this, you see, is very unsafe. It is not clear to me why it was impossible to snow the tracks at night?
And what kind of velveteen is there in the morning! No, it's not velveteen, it's more like corrugated iron! So hard that it's just tin! During the day, however, the slope loosens up a bit.
A couple of times we went in the direction where, presumably, Nastya was supposed to ride. We did not find it there, but we found an even stronger wind than from our side.
Somehow stretching until 15.00, we ran home. And many trails were closed because of the wind. The guys ran over me to extend the cell - you see, they liked to come light! What sissies! Chapat along Dombai in boots with skis on a hump for a kilometer is normal, but here it’s nothing to walk to the bus. Showing them the muzzle, she ordered to cover the equipment. The casket, by the way, opened simply - you had to attach your ski pass to the scanning device and voila - the door would unlock. I did not need outside help.
In the evening, walking around the city, we finally met friends. But they were going to some seafood cafe recommended to them by some friend. We were already on our way home, but turned in the opposite direction to take a little walk with them. Gusts of wind lifted dust and even garbage cans into the air from nowhere. Nastya was very surprised. The town looks licked almost with the tongue. In the mornings, sitting in the canteen, we watched a picture - in the predawn twilight, a washing machine was driving along the street, scrubbing tiles, and then there was a guy with a device, such as a vacuum cleaner, which works both here and there - and blows and sucks.
After walking a couple of blocks with them, we froze and turned back, ordering to break through, what was there and how. It is necessary to celebrate my significant day somewhere with dignity! We also agreed to try out the second ski area, Vallnord, for tomorrow. Unlike naked Grandvalira, a forest grows there. Perhaps not so strong wind?
The guys didn't like it in the cafe. Then I decided to talk about our hotel restaurant. Before breakfast, armed with my passport, I went to the reception desk. I was “lucky” because an uncle who did not speak English was on duty. But I don't say either. So, I have a chance that he will understand me.
I poke my finger in the passport, where is the date of my birth. I say "tumor". Like understood, depicted joy on his face. Fine. Move on. Stretching my right hand towards the canteen, I broadcast: “lunch pho (bath-tu-sri...... seven) seven songs. Lunch, he asks, or is it a dinner? And he shows me a sign, where it is written in blue and white, lunch from 15.00 (it seems), and dinner already at half past nine! Admission is free - pay 14.50 and enjoy. The time categorically did not suit me, but, just in case, I went further and proclaimed, poking my hand first at his chest, then at myself: “Mil - er, drinkin - May! Its Posible? " He bulged his eyes uncomprehendingly. I backed up my pantomime by flicking my fingers against my neck. It finally arrived. Probably. Maybe he thought I was inviting him for a drink? Don't know. But he said it was impossible. Q. E. D. Well, it is not necessary. We will wait for half past eight!
After eating the sausage meat, which had already become quite good, we returned to the room to dress. There is a painting "Suvorov Crossing the Alps". And here was the oil painting “Crossing the Mariupol through the Pyrenees” (our hotel was called that). Sneaking in ski boots on the laminate, so as not to wake everyone up, we went down the elevator to the hall. No one rushed to us and shook his finger. So you can!
We got to the stop. We waited for the bus to Vallnord. It costs the same rupee eighty-five of their money. And move a little closer. And there is no luggage compartment! Skis must be brought into the salon. However, the day before we returned from Grandvalira by the same, bagless bus.
In the lift building on the first floor, a Russian-speaking girl was sitting at a table, surrounded by several people. She was, like, a representative of either Coral or Anex, but it was absolutely unimportant. Like all other Russian tourists who came from her (or not her) company, she gave us a discount on ski passes. But this is only if you take from two days. She doesn't sell for one day. Here, this pleasure cost us only 37 euros / day from the nose. By the way, there is also a similar girl near the ticket office of the funicamp in Grandvalira. So, if you decide to go, do not rush to the cashier.
The difference of 10 euros compared to Grandvalira is, of course, significant. I wonder what's wrong here on Vallnord? The first is the stairs to the second floor. Stairs, not an escalator! Vadik said that he didn't like it here anymore. Move on. The trailers… They are smaller, but people were stuffed there like herrings. standing. With skis. The surrounding landscape, however, seemed more interesting. But the hope that there is no wind here melted away. Although the forecast showed only some unfortunate 25 m/s against yesterday's 35, the tops of the surrounding mountains were smoking in absolutely clear weather. So it blows there so that it raises the snow that fell at night to a good height. But today the wind is indeed somewhat weaker than yesterday. Sometimes only snow whirlwinds rose to a height of half a Christmas tree. And the muzzle was no longer scratched by ice floes, but gently melted on the cheeks. The electronic thermometer on the top of Mount Pic el cubil (2364 mnum) showed minus 13! Yes, with a breeze of 25 m/s. Good!
Snow did, a little poured. Therefore, we generally liked it here. Although there are fewer trails.
Differences: Vallnord runs through the forest. Bukovel Bukovel. Less Russian speech on the slopes. If in Grandvalira you hear it, without exaggeration, from every third, then here, probably, from every sixth. So it seemed to me. There are fewer trails. Older lifts. There is even an old two-chair.
There are a lot of ski schools. From the smallest children to adults. What technology do kids have? A feast for the eyes. The men who graduated from the school of instructors in their time noticed that the technique has changed significantly since then. If earlier they professed narrow skiing, now it is, on the contrary, wide. And there are many other different details that are visible only to an experienced eye.
I didn't really bother with the technique. Encountering a black track on the way, she applied the previously acquired skills. But more often filonila and rode on a simpler one. Fortunately, there are enough trails, and you can choose for yourself with a comfortable slope. And no ice. And pebbles. Oleg also noted that for a long time he had not seen someone doing a warm-up in skis before making the first descent. And before it was a ritual.
In general, there are not many people. If you're not lucky, get stuck in a crowd of schoolchildren. However, they go absolutely predictably, snake after the instructor. Therefore, overtaking them was not difficult. Everyone is very disciplined. They also exist on Grandvalira, but there are more places, and the probability of encountering them is lower.
Speaking of collisions. On Vallnord, thank God, I did not see any victims. And on Grandvalira, they packed someone into Akyu several times. Scary! These stretchers are usually located at the chair lift stations, and every time I passed by, I shuddered internally.
There are many White Walkers on Vallnord. People in special skis with a free heel. Prut walk up the mountain, and then ski down. Hardly in order not to pay for the lift. Athletes, apparently.
Back in the city, we went shopping for tomorrow's festive table. What to eat, or rather drink, whatever at insane prices in cafes, it’s better to celebrate in the room.
In the hypermarket already known to us, they collected all sorts of differences. The boys took one and a half chivawiska, and the girls wanted to take three liters of champagne. But, having approached the shelf with the widow Clicquot, they found only a price tag - 30 euros. Everyone drank, damn drunks! What to do? We bought two bottles of another, and for the widow Vadik sent me to a neighboring dyutik, giving out his card, with which he paid everywhere here. They themselves, with backpacks full of sweets, remained waiting for me at the entrance. Here champagne cost already 33.6. So, to lose more than a hundred hryvnia out of the blue! Yes, and the aunt at the checkout asked for a passport! I will carry it with me! No, I say. Well there is no way. They gave it without a passport.
In the morning the girls came with congratulatory envelopes. After they left, I inquired. OO! The amount more than covered all our expenses for the table! Suddenly! But nice.
Nobody was going to refuse to ride today. Friends did not get to Vallnord yesterday. Gathered today. Will we finally meet on the slope?
Today it was absolutely clear and almost calm. And only minus ten on the mountain. Ride until noon, turned into a cafe. Here, in addition to the building of the cafe itself, there was also a vast wooden deck with wooden tables, many of which were written “no picnic”.
Having chosen without an inscription, they sat down. Nearby, under the wall, a couple sat in cloth deck chairs with a bucket of champagne on a table. They give! It is, of course, sunny. But at minus ten to drink shampoo on the street...
The last NG on the Yalta embankment turned out to be extremely cool. Minus, thank God, was not. There was a small plus. And for the first time in my life, sipping brut cuvé e, I did not feel high. I wanted something stronger. Or hotter. Better at the same time. Well, here! Ponty, and only! You might think that they are 50 years old! And the little man was surprisingly similar to the 40-year-old Thomas Anders. And we managed with an eggplant with Dewar's and anniversary sandwiches. It's not evening yet!
After resting, let's move on. But an accident happened. Vadik slowed down too abruptly and felt a sharp pain in his knee. He felt a little discomfort even before the New Year. And even began, at my insistence, to apply maclura to the sore spot. But we left. In the Crimea, of course, we roamed the mountains. Not having time to properly rest, flew here. And here's to you! Somehow getting back to the cafe, he stayed there to rest. Oleg and I continued to ride.
When we returned, we found friends who finally appeared with him. They still remained, and we left to cover the clearing.
