The Hitchhiker and The Butterfly

The Hitchhiker & The Butterfly

For Gati: Mi Montaña. Te Quiero. Baby Bear xxx.

The Forecast

Today is the 25th of December 2014, otherwise known as 'Christmas Day'. The time is 6:13 am.

By 8:13 am, gales from the east will have reached record-breaking speeds causing a whiteout in most of the Rhône-Alpes region, France. This will later be documented as one of the worst storms of the 2014 season, causing the death of a lone hiker and thousands of euros in damage.

Merry Christmas!

The village

The sun is just beginning to kiss the earth 'Good Morning' as it climbs up over the mountain peaks, bathing the valley with the first streams of sunlight. Coercing the sleepy town of 'Bourg St Maurice', nestled cozily in the heart of the French Alps, to lazily start to wake-up. The air remains cool and dry, with a light wind that sways the mountainous pine trees from side to side. While, Snow coated pavements lay crisp and untouched, from last night's snowfall.

This village despite the recent development in the surrounding ski-resorts remains captured as a traditional picturesque wooden town. With only one main road; 'Bourg St Maurice' is the end of the line. To leave it's necessary to either drive or take a bus from the station in town, that's connected to the town's sole high street. Which like the rest of the village remains traditional in the sense there's no supermarket, but a butcher, greengrocers, bakers and corner shop of which to buy provisions. For a village like this one, the high street is its hub. No longer than two-hundred meters, it's adorned with Christmas lights, decorations and posters wishing people a 'happy holiday!'.

Plenty of people pass through this town, being the last stop-off before ascending into the mountains. Yet, nobody lives here, they merely survive it! For the locals it's a constant battle against nature, to prevent the mountains from swallowing them up. At an altitude of one thousand five hundred meters above sea-level during the long winter months, it's plagued by much snowfall and icy winds that run through the valley, terrorizing its inhabitants. While during the shorter summer months, the temperature can climb to thirty-five degrees causing a dessert-like environment. At, this time of year it's a daily ritual to clear the snow off your garden and the surrounding pavement. A thoughtful act performed by almost all the residents. It's a tight-knit community here, a slightly older one, but strong nerveless. The cold has a way of forcing people together!

The Hitchhiker

My coach from London Victoria pulled into the 'Bourg St Maurice' bus station at around six-fifteen am, being Christmas day, it was conveniently closed. I was the sole passenger par a young French man who was traveling home to spend Christmas with his family. It had been a 20-hour journey and my body feels as if I'd been put in a bag and beaten with a stick. Supplemented by a splitting headache, from the lack of sleep and more potently the lack of coffee. So, when I finally got let off the confined torture chamber on wheels, I was grateful to be able to move about and of the fresh air, even if it is a cool minus two.

After consulting a bus timetable and a fair degree of swearing, it became clear to me that I had no other option, than to walk the twenty kilometers up the mountain. As, neither do I have a car nor can drive. Also, being Christmas, the first bus is not until seven o'clock the following morning. So, I'm faced with a dilemma! Walk the twenty-kilometer road to the ski resort, where my pre-arranged job and board are waiting... Or camp out for the night in the minus five-degree snowstorm. A hotel would be the obvious choice but unfortunately, all the hotels are booked up this time of year. Although I very much doubt that I have enough money to pay for a room. Optimistically, I start to walk towards the mountain with the hope that maybe I can hitch a ride from a passing local.