Le Franco Phoney

The Winter Olympic Games (les Jeux Olympiques in French) are in full swing, and I’ve been following the sports on French television. The French athletes have been a bit unlucky so far, and at first the commentators blamed it on badly-made courses. I think they’ve given up on that angle now but they certainly haven’t stopped saying: “Ooh la la”, nor the variation: “Ooh la la la la”, nor the variation of the variation: “Ooh la la la la la la”. Seriously, the commentators are la la laing so many times that I’m losing count. As the Men’s Cross-country Relay went on (and on and on)  last night, the commentators became more and more worried, using more “Ooh la la”s, when the Norwegian approached from fourth place, and eventually made it to second place, ousting the French team to fourth place. Vincent Vittoz from La Clusaz was in that team, and it was pretty much his last chance of winning an Olympic medal after many years of trying, so the commentators were hoping for him as much as I was that he would get at least a bronze. There’s still a chance he might get one because the French team have complained about Sweden (or is it Norway?) bringing two pairs of skis instead of one. If their complaint is successful, Vincent and the French team will move up to win bronze. And the commentators are sure to la la la themselves into oblivion if that happens.

Between the Ooh la las, it’s often difficult to hear much else because the commentators like talking over each other. During the replay of some figure skating last night, I wondered if they’d forgotten to turn off a few microphones as there were no less than four people talking at the same time. Really, I’m not joking: four people at once. The French do seem to have a knack of being able to talk and listen at the same time in everyday life, so such commentary probably shouldn’t surprise me as much as their moment of absolute silence when Ladies’ Downhill hopeful Marion Rolland hurt her knee and fell just seconds after she started her run. The French commentators had been excited about her run and they switched directly to her when she was getting ready to leave the gates. Bing! Off she goes! As she veered directly to her right and off the course, only one commentator let out a single, sad “Non”. Ten seconds must have passed before any of them could muster up the ability to speak. The catastrophe of another French athlete going down was just too much.

As I write this, the French are ranked equal sixth in the medal tally. Compare this with my native Australia — a country renowned for producing sporting champions, which has a whole three medals, putting them in sixteenth place. We’re better at summer sports really. Us Aussies are rapt with our best ever winter Olympics medal tally despite it being nowhere near the top-ranking countries. So, France, don’t fret: you’re doing alright. And may Vinny get that bronze.

Candide Thovex, who allegedly fell out with the La Clusaz Tourist Office a few years ago, ending the his Candide Invitational (now replaced with the La Clusaz Free Sessions), has proved once again that he’s still got it.

A few days ago, Candide won the Redbull Linecatcher 2010 competition. This was his first competition entry since breaking his back two seasons ago on the Big Bertha jump at his own Candide Invitational competition. Here’s a quick video showing one of his runs and the three tricks he did that helped him win the Redbull competition:

Candide spent a lot of time in places other than La Clusaz last year, but his absence has made the hearts of locals grow fonder, not weaker: he was busy shaking people’s hands in the car park of La Balme last week. The day was over, and it was cold, but he still hung around chatting to kids and adults alike until finally they all seemed satisfied with their Candide time and he could go. I’m hoping he gets more time to ride in La Clusaz this year as he’s not only a nice guy, but an inspiration to watch on the snow.

Tractor doing a wheelie at the start line

Today, I went to a tractor-pulling-stuff competition. Conveniently, it was on the way back from Dijon, where I had been to visit friends. Fellow author and now friend, Francesca, alerted me to the competition here, so off I went, expecting, as she did, flabby men pulling tractors. How wrong we both were! It was actually the tractors that were pulling a heavily-weighted trailer that grew more resistant every second it was being pulled. With front wheels hopping off the ground and a lot of smelly tractor fuel smoke (definitely not nitrous oxide), some of the tractors bellowed down the field, covering us all in a lot of dust, on their way to the finish line, while others puffed to a halt after just a few seconds.

It’s actually a very technical sport: there were ground-wetting vehicles (tractors) and ground-flatteners (also tractors) to keep the course in good shape between each go. Contestants were judged on how fast their tractors were, presuming they reached  the ‘full pull’ (the finish line). Each winning contestant did a wave of victory from their tractor as they returned to the start line. I was lucky enough to be standing near the family of the contestant driving the Rêve Rouge (red dream) tractor, which was red. His first and second runs were great! He had a winning time! As he approached the finish line for the third and final time, his tractor coughed and stopped with a bang. The family, who had been waving and clapping, were now upset and questioning what had happened. Swearing and lots of tutting commenced until they realised he was still the winner in his category with the fastest time. The group consensus was a problem with the radiator. No problems; he was towed away (by a tractor), still able to do his victory wave.

Driver of Rêve Rouge does his victory wave before breaking down

Although this event took place in the Swiss village of Tannay, it could well have been right here in La Clusaz, with a raclette cheese stand, beer tents on each side of the course, and very little else apart from some empty truck trailers which were deliberately used as raised viewing platforms. The event was almost anti-Swiss, with officials letting the public break the rules: I  managed to walk inside the non-public tractor parking lot twice to get to where I wanted, and then across the start line when the competition was over, with an official actually lifting the rope for me to exit while some other tractors were still driving on the course. There were no how-to-pee signs (like this one) in the portable toilets either. Cars parked where they pleased rather than in the large, half-empty field for parking, and to top it all off, I heard Lilly Allen’s F*ck you very much between races, with little kids dancing and bigger kids singing along as if it were a nursery rhyme.

I direct you to the photos below. Click on the photos for the full-sized, uncropped images. Quick review below.

Last weekend marked the very first La Clusaz Free Sessions competition, which was a bit boring during the day (due to the fact that the riders were off-piste all over the mountain, and often out of view of the public), and lots of fun at night, with a jib session after the day’s video footage was shown. In the photos above, you can see how the competitors started with a road jump, getting massive height and doing all sorts of tricks, then moved onto some rails before hitting the wooden log at the bottom of the hill, pictured. People walked under the road jump while the road was blocked off to cars. There were only a few falls, but thankfully they were all minor, with the riders picking themselves up again as soon as they had stopped sliding down the snow.

La Clusaz is certainly better-known for its skiers than for its snowboarders, but I think it’s a bit sad that there were no snowboarders at all in this event. There’s certainly no snowboard-exclusive event in this resort, yet it hosts cross-country events and even a big telemark weekend.

Meanwhile, in the snowpark, an event for teenagers was held. I didn’t get to see much of the action, nor try the skis on offer, but the warmed sachets of Nutella that were being handed out with bread were very welcome! If I can use an extremely awful pun, the weekend was bitter-sweet. I’m so, so sorry for that.