My first voyage ‘round the world, part 9

Around June 10, 1971, while JP and I were soaking under the Mediterranean sun to fine-tune our summer tan prior to crossing the strait of Gibraltar, Gérard was leaving his native Savoie and rode a night train to Paris in order to meet Alexis in the French capital. 

Gérard still remembers that day quite vividly: “At 7 am, total change of environment as I was lugging my skis and my luggage inside the Paris metro to catch the airport bus to Le Bourget. What an experience for me to dive into this Parisian hustle and bustle, and discover the temper and lack of humor of these city dwellers... This felt already like another planet, at least for me!”

Once at the airport, our two colleagues jumped on the UTA flight to Sydney. At the time, wide-body aircraft, like the Boeing 747, were still in short supply and the 707 and other DC8s made the majority of long-haul airplanes in circulation, so the number of stopovers were still quite mind-boggling: Athens, Tehran, Karachi, Colombo, where a typhoon scared the wits out of Alexis and Gérard on landing. 

Then they continued on to Bangkok, Singapore, Sydney before catching a domestic flight to Melbourne. Gérard, had been struck by what he had seen at Sydney Airport, “Our plane was parked a few meters from the brand new Boeing 747 which was making the rounds for its world introduction. I didn't have a camera handy, but the image of this giant airplane will forever be etched in my mind!" 

Finally the pair arrived in Melbourne, John Hilton Wood, owner of Mount Buller's Blue Lifts, was there to meet the two exhausted travelers after an endless journey and nine hours of jet lag. He drove them straight to his ski resort, over three hours away from the airport. 

Gérard barely remembers the ride, "In the car, the fatigue of this long journey mixed with a language that was totally foreign to the dialect I knew in Lanslebourg, my hometown, had plunged me into a deep slumber..." 

Once they got there, around midnight, Gérard still remembers that when he bid goodnight to his two instructors, Hilton-Wood told them, tongue-in-cheek: “See you in the morning, ski lessons start at 8 o'clock!” 

Finally, after a restful night's sleep, waking up under a beautiful blue sky and a sun that flooded Bourke Street, the main ski slope, Gérard now smitten by the smell of gum trees and the Australians casual attitudes, felt filled with confidence and energy in carving his first turns on his new world.