At The sell-out crowd of 25, at the bottom of the hill will be authentic enough, as will the dangers for the athletes. However, if the cameras pan back from the action, they will see a narrow white stripe glued to a vast landscape of green.
The audience may wonder if they are looking at Exmoor or the Brecon Beacons or a modest Scottish hillside — until they catch the odd glimpse of a Heidi-style chalet on the grassy slopes. If the cameras pan back from the action at the Skiing World Cup, they will see a narrow white stripe glued to a vast landscape of green. Adelboden, like much of Europe, is suffering the warmest, the wettest and — for skiers, at least — the worst January most people can recall.
That is because Adelboden, like much of Europe, is suffering the warmest, the wettest and — for skiers, at least — the worst January most people can recall. On the day I arrive in the delightful French town of Morzine, the authorities finally decide to close a popular ski run down to the town that had been clinging on only thanks to a layer of artificial snow. For the average Brit like me, standing here in the drizzle, Adelboden feels very much at home.
And yet it should not. To their great credit, the locals in the Swiss resort of Adelboden have managed to pull off their miracle, but the crowds turning up this afternoon will certainly not be needing scarves, thermals or thick gloves.
A raincoat, on the other hand, is a must. People flock to this old Swiss ski town for its 70 miles of downhill skiing, not for a ramble in the rain. For a combination of warmer weather and equally unseasonal quantities of rain is conspiring to leave swathes of the Alps looking not so much like the proverbial chocolate box but, merely, like the chocolate inside.
