Day Six
Injuries; After second Via Ferata am now resigned to fact that I will be wearing full body suit for work on Monday to avoid frightening natives
Cash; Wallet now a residence for French moths (myths?)
Weather; Sunshine (shh!)
Woke up with an unusual sensation. There was definitely something strange about the morning. There was this odd light in the sky and a feeling of something not unlike warmth in the air. I think this may be what's called 'Summer'.
Found out why I couldn't remember anything about last night. I fell asleep in the Coyote bar after dinner and had to sleepwalk back to the chalet by about 11.30pm hahaha! Last of the ravers eh? I was absolutely shattered by the 'relaxing stroll' we'd done to get to the lake yesterday - that's the only excuse I can offer. I'd only had a couple of glasses of wine and a dodgy pineapple rum shot which was one step up from meths I think judging by the after-taste. Not that I drink them but 'Stinky Jean' the alco in the chalet next door tells me it's good stuff. Ok then.
The rest of the crew went to the one and only nightclub in town, 'L'opera' and from joining the various pieces of everyone's memories together I ascertained that John was chatted up by a bloke giving hand massages, Carrey and Sophie (and maybe John but this is hazy) got in a cage and were dancing. There was a breakdance dance-off but no one is sure if any of our crowd were involved and they missed the lingerie models who come on for the last couple of dances in their 'work clothes' for the entertainment of the 90% male clientele. Apparently they have a lingerie night once a week. Not sure what the gnarly bikers are supposed to wear for that one but clearly something frilly and lacy works. Typical Northern night out really.
I have to say that John's success with the masseur did bear out his earlier comment that being out with three women 'makes me look gay'. Hopefully my early exit made the odds a bit better but the pickings were slim, even as a woman I could see that. We were trying to point out totty for him but there really were only 'the kind of girls who do sports' if you get what I mean. PLUS his shopping list was 'blonde hair; long, big boobs; not fake and 'very confident'. Think he was destined to wake up alone that night!
Anyway, the hangover crew were really looking forward to a bright sunny day full of activities and in particular the hour-long drive down the windy mountain roads in a hot, stuffy and, let's face it, by this time, stinky van. I hated to be one of those smug sober types who rubs it in the next morning but actually no, it was fun hahaha!
Activity one for the delicate ones was something called 'Fantasticable' - essentially you are trussed up like a Christmas Turkey, posted into a harness contraption, hung from the equivalent of a washing line between two mountains and shot across the valley at about 80mph. Apparently this is very good for a hangover so I'm looking forward to the equivalent being set up to fire drunkards over the canal in Warrington Town Centre on a Sunday morning.
Back down the mountain there was the option of 'Devalkarts' - little kart-like vehicles you could take down a scary windy track down the hill or the luge for lazy people. It works like this; you pay your money, get your sledge, put it on a kind of conveyor belt and it pulls you up to the top of the course and then lets you go onto the luge track. The only control device you have is a joystick between your legs (no Carry-on film style snickering please, this is a family blog). Signs in French tell you to ease the knob forward to accelerate and pull back on it to brake. 'Go at your own pace' the signs say encouragingly as you chug gently up the mountain. What they don't tell you is that your pace is going to be entirely dependant on the lunatic that you have behind you. It's not long before you discover that Grandma pace doesn't cut it around here as you have two toboggans in your boot and one trying to climb over your head. Looking around you realise that you have an M25-style luge jam behind you so you have to crank it up a notch or in this case, just stop braking for corners as that seems to be what everyone else is doing.
I'd had my fun for the morning so decided to go on a hike instead. Having got about 100m up on the steepest path ever I decided that my thighs and shins had had all they could take for one week and came down to do the 'nice and flat' river walk instead. You'd think I would have learned by now wouldn't you? I chose the stones path wondering what could be so special about a lot of stones. These stones are however the type that it takes some kind of major geological event to move down the valley. They are HUGE. This was aslo a mountain bike track so of course it had to have big climbs and drops and wasn't flat at all. I ended up on a bench overlooking the most beautiful valley though - worth the effort even though I was absolutely over uphill paths now - no more, no way!
Further along the path there was a 'Parcours Sportif' which I thought I'd have a go at 'for fun'. I filled my water bottle at the mountain spring and got ready for the first challenge. You may have heard the word 'parcours' being used to describe free runners who dive around rooftops, sprint through people's attic extensions and balance on drainpipes etc. in Paris. I think there is a scene in the last James Bond film about it. Anyway, a 'Parcours Sportif' or 'Parcours Sante' is the choice for those who think that exercising in a gym just isn't public enough. In fairness, doing sit ups in front of an Alpine view like this definitely beats staring at the BBC news whilst getting progressively sweatier on a treadmill. If you like the idea of having onlookers stare at you absent-mindedly as they pass on their way, or give you tips / tell you you aren't doing it right and if you don't mind the occasional curious pooch coming over for a sniff whilst you are doing bar push ups, this is the place for you.
To do your circuit, you go from exercise station to exercise 
station by the side of the path and do what the little stick man on the sign is doing, as many times as the number shown. You may think this is all very easy but when was the last time you were on monkey bars? I was still swinging from the first one when I remembered that you have to use the swing of your body to get a rhythm going so that you can actually move onto the next bar. By this time, I had to deal with a queue of ten year olds who were waiting for their go. One little chap was impatient and decided to start from the other end meeting me on his way (I wish I could say in the middle but by the time he got to me I was still on bar three). There was an awkward face off before I had to admit defeat and drop the two inches to the floor pretending to have just been trying it out.
I came across one that looked a lot more promising - two wooden beds. 'Great!' I thought until I realised that these were for sit ups. Even the stick man looked like he was having a tough time of it so I decided to make use of the other vital piece of exercise equipment at the station - a park bench for a sit down. Seem to be doing a lot of that recently.
Spent the rest of the day in town foraging for souvenirs. Smelly cheese or spicy sausage anyone? Novelty bandage? Customised crutches?
Last day tomorrow.
Elsie.
