Alpine adventure - skiing in France
At lunchtime on Friday 12th of January, I, along with a large huddle of excited classmates, abandoned the school yard to board a large coach. We threw our large suitcases into the storage area and found seats with our friends, settling down for the 27 hour journey ahead - our destination? The magnificent French Alps, a landscape of jagged peaks and snowy slopes. Soon we were rolling southwards, to the soundtrack of excited chatter.
Many hours later we were boarding the overnight ferry at Dover. Being midnight, it was far too dark to allow for any birdwatching, and the lights of the lounge were far to bright to allow for any sleep. I sat listening to music, contemplating possible sightings for later on in the ski trip. Lammergeier? Wallcreeper? There were many I could see, but I didn't expect much - freezing temperatures combined with several feet of snow doesn't make for easy survival.
Soon we were in Calais, driving along dark roads, lights passing by. I was asleep straight away, but unfortunately it didn't stay that way for long - by 6 everyone was awake and the coach was full of chatter again. As soon as the sun was up I was watching, counting, taking in the world as it passed by. Mallard and Grey Herons made homes in small roadside ponds; Cormorants rested, drying their wings, in trees overlooking them. Buzzards were perched beside the road, waiting for a small mammal to meet it's end caught in the traffic. Kestrels hovered over green stretches of farmland, while Sparrowhawks flew high over small woods. One lake held a Great White Egret, while others held large numbers of Black-headed Gull.
After far too long in the coach we were in the Alps, and I was amazed by the views. Snowy peaks reached dizzying heights high above us. We drove through beautiful small towns, nestled into the valleys below craggy mountains. Here there was very little wildlife.
Finally we arrived at our hotel - and not too much later we were asleep, resting before the first day skiing!
Over the next six days I skied with my group around the beautiful Serre Chevalier valley, taking in the breathtaking views and trying to spot some of the amazing wildlife in the area. On the tops of the mountains we came across Alpine Chough, amazingly surviving through the harsh weather. In the pine forests I found Willow Tits, flitting around the branches in small groups uttering their distinctive call. From the ski lifts I also saw groups of Long-tailed Tits in the forests. But it was not only birds living on the slopes - we also saw Roe Deers feeding in the woodland on two occasions, and a Red Squirrel was spotted scrambling on the trees beside the hotel. Every so often we would see Ravens flying high above us, but the most spectacular bird was a Golden Eagle, seen distantly from the chair lift - large and dark, 3-4x the size of the Alpine Chough mobbing it, with rectangular shaped wings.
During our trip we didn't only ski - we had many other activities, my favourites being ice skating, relaxing in the hot springs and a very exciting ice hockey match. But the days on the mountains speeding down the slopes were simply unbeatable - nothing is better than that, especially in such a beautiful area. A particularly memorable occasion was going to the highest point in the resort, above the clouds and the other mountains. The amazing landscape went on as far as the eye could see, and the valley bottom below seemed so far away. The views blew me away and pictures simply don't do it justice.
Unfortunately, we had to leave in the evening of Friday the 19th. We drove through the night, and when I woke up in the morning we were queueing in Calais. Fortunately, we were taking a daytime crossing on the way back, and so I could do some birding.
I stood on the deck, staring out over the balcony. Gannets flew by over the rough sea. Guillemots lifted off from the water and flew away, low over the waves. Kittiwakes flew past, searching for a meal. Every time another boat passed up, a large gang of gulls would be following - these were predominantly Great Black-backed and Herring, but there was also the odd Common or Black-headed. I scanned each flock with white-wingers to no avail - however, it was during one of these scans when I picked up the best bird of the journey. A dark, chunky seabird was chasing after a Great Black-backed, slightly smaller than the gulls, an obvious white line on the wing. A Great Skua! I watched it as it passed, but soon it was gone.
We arrived in the UK not long after, and we were back to the crowded motorways and cramped coach. By 8pm on Saturday we were back home, far from the Alpine landscape and the holiday left as a unforgettable memory.
