For the fourth day of skiing, we went a little further afield to the Lake Louise ski area. I went skiing there in 2019, and was looking forward to revisiting the “Traumpiste” that we found in the area’s back bowls.
My only picture from Lake Louise. And the longest lineup we had for the entire week.
Once again, we had a very intense day of skiing. We were quite tired at the end of it. This was partly due to the amount of skiing we did, but also the conditions. There was a blizzard, so we really had to focus on what we were doing (and keep our knees bent just in case we hit some unexpected bumps).
Richard pauses halfway through some off-piste glade skiing on Goat’s Eye Mountain (Sunshine Village)
I am pleased to report that the Lake Louise resort renamed the “Brown Shirt” piste that I found troubling in 2019. It was such a shame that this great piste had such a dismal name. It is now called “Brown Cow”. Alas, the poor visibility meant that skiing this steep, unmarked and ungroomed piste was somewhat less than ideal. We didn’t return for a second try, despite knowing that all the fresh snow would create amazing conditions once the visibility improved.
And this is where we just skied to get to that spot. Lots of deep snow!
Our favourite itinerary for the day turned out to be a couple of black-rated pistes (#59 and #12) close to the main gondola. The visibility was OK and there wasn’t much traffic on these steep and snowy pistes. Without blizzard conditions, I can see how these could get icy and unpleasant very quickly.
Deep woods right beside the lower part of the Goat’s Eye Mountain chairlift
The drive home was an adventure, as the roads hadn’t been properly cleared. I was glad that we were in a heavy 4WD vehicle,
View of Goat’s Eye Mountain, from Mt. Standish (Sunshine Village). Glade skiing location on far right, just above the denser woods and marked trails.
We intended to return to Lake Louise for the final day of skiing. However, the roads were still dodgy once we approached Banff that morning. Even worse, traffic was getting backed up because of the sheer number of people who wanted to go skiing at Lake Louise (no doubt because of the previous day’s blizzard). We made a quick decision to turn off Highway 1 at Sunshine Village and ski there instead.
“The Great Divide”, as seen from Mount Standish (Sunshine Village)
This turned out to be a great decision. While the skies were once again overcast, Goat’s Eye Mountain was relatively untouched for the entire morning. I can’t say how much mileage we achieved, but it was a lot. And the conditions were really good despite the gray skies. We even managed a bit of glade skiing in the trees (see photos above).
One of Canmore’s many wild rabbits
While the afternoon didn’t quite live up to the morning, I was still pleasantly exhausted at the end of the day. The TP Town lift still had good soul and reggae music, and the heated seats were most welcome as the temperatures dipped to around -8’C.
Looking the opposite way (from the top photo) on “my” street in Canmore, Alberta
I left Alberta the next morning, and of course the sun shone brilliantly in response. But I was still very happy with how the skiing turned out. It’s great to rediscover something that at one time seemed lost forever.
Downtown Calgary in the distance, as seen from the departures area of Calgary’s airport
But that’s not the end of the trip! Stay tuned for the details of a brief but very enjoyable stopover on my way back home!
I’ve now completed three days of skiing at Banff Sunshine Village. The weather continues to be overcast and gray, but it really hasn’t affected my skiing enjoyment. I’ll take it over the -29’C temperatures I experienced the last time I was here!
Note the absence of a line-up for this chair lift (Sunshine Village)
Even though I have been active every single day of the pandemic, it often took the form of a walk or a relatively low-intensity sport. Hockey and soccer were severely curtailed. So I can’t overstate how good it feels to actually push myself to be seriously active for the entire day…multiple days in a row.
Typical skies this week above Sunshine Village
Although I have only skied for 3 days so far, it probably works out to be more like 5 or 6 “typical” days. There are only two of us skiing, lift lines are non-existent, and we ski at about the same pace…so we manage to get in a lot of runs. With the iffy weather, there also isn’t much incentive to linger over a beverage or have a leisurely al fresco lunch! While those things can also be enjoyable, it’s just not in the cards this year.
Naturally monochrome view from Mt. Standish, with Goat’s Eye Mountain to the left (Sunshine Village, Alberta)
At Sunshine Village, we spent most of our time in the “Goat’s Eye” area. There are basically two halves to Goat’s Eye Mountain (see photo above): the upper half is almost tundra-like, with fast, direct pistes. The bottom half is wooded, with terrain ranging from treed glades and mogul fields to steep powder stashes and leisurely cruising pistes. Our favourite piste this year was probably “Rolling Thunder”, which successfully combined a steep pitch with deep fluffy snow.
Delirium Dive at Sunshine Village: for adrenaline junkies only!
Sunshine Village also includes a couple of “hard core” areas for extreme skiers. Delirium Dive (access point pictured above) is one of them. You are not allowed to ski here unless you have avalanche equipment (digital avalanche transceiver, etc.) and a skiing partner with you. It’s rated a “double black diamond”, and the rating is certainly deserved. You can read more about Delirium Dive here.
Downtown Canmore, Alberta
We also spent some time on the areas serviced by the “Great Divide Express” and “TP Town” lifts. The TP Town chair lift is one of my favourites: not only is the music non-stop reggae (ideal for sports), but the seats are heated and there is also a “bubble” that you can pull down to shield yourself from the elements. The slopes are a little busier here, but my ski partner knows the area very well and was able to find hidden gems that the crowds completely ignored.
Downtown Canmore, Alberta (opposite corner from the previous photo)
Once again, my base for the week is the town of Canmore. I heard today that Canmore is the fastest-growing town in Canada. With the increasing popularity of telecommuting, more and more people are choosing to live here in the mountains rather than in big cities.
The title says it all. On very short notice, I found myself on a plane to Calgary and about to do my first skiing since my trip to Morzine, France, in early 2020.
My worst photo ever – I think it’s tilted at least 45 degrees
I’m once again based in Canmore, Alberta, and spent the first day of skiing at Sunshine Village (just north of Banff). There was no real sunshine today, and usually my ski photos feature brilliant sun and blue skies, but I’ve decided to include the photos anyway. After two years, I was just so thrilled to be on the slopes that I want to document the occasion here!
Not much better – this “Welcome Back to Sunny Alberta” sign is maybe 100 yards past the “Welcome to British Columbia” sign. Note: it’s not actually sunny.
In one of those quirks of geography, a tiny sliver of the Sunshine Village ski area is actually located in British Columbia. I took the above two photos to document my very brief visit to B.C. today. Both were snapped whilst riding the chair lift into the grey misty abyss at the top of the resort. So, I have successfully proven that (ski mitts + movement + fog + wind) = objectively bad photos. I even managed to make an uphill chair lift look like it was going downhill!
Goat’s Eye area – Sunshine Village, Alberta.
I was kind of anxious about the flight to Calgary, as I hadn’t been on one for so long and quite a few restrictions were still in place. But once I printed out my baggage tag, it all seemed to fall into place and it really wasn’t that different from before. I just had to wear a mask for a lot longer than I’m used to doing, and people seemed to be just a little more cautious about personal space, etc. And I’m OK with that.
Random skier at Sunshine Village
Being on skis for the first time in two years also brought some mild trepidation. Would I still remember how? Would I still like it? Would the overcast weather lessen the fun? Would I be cold?
View of the older part of Sunshine Village, from the Goat’s Eye area
I needn’t have worried. It all came back fairly quickly, and I’m not even feeling that sore…despite maintaining a hectic pace for the entire day (and having a fairly short lunch to boot). It was a reawakening – finally being able to do something that had brought me so much joy before the pandemic. I still like the deep snow, I still relish the challenge of solving the slope, and I still love being out in the mountains. We kept on going until the lifts were closed, and we’re going back tomorrow for more.
Well, of course we had to try it…
More snow is in the forecast for the rest of the week, so I may not post *any* spectacular sun-dappled ski photos at all. But I’m still ecstatic to be here, and I admit that I’m already looking forward to the next trip…wherever it may be.
I won’t try to objectively rank the best ski areas in Europe… there are far too many for that! But why not try to rank the ones I know?
The question: in which resort would I most want to spend an entire week of skiing, without regard to cost? Everything else can be considered: the skiing, the town, the atmosphere, and the food are all fair game. I tried not to assign too much weight to the particular place I stayed: if I did, one otherwise fine Italian area wouldn’t have been on the list…as our hotel was located next to what seemed to be a sewage plant. Let’s start the countdown to #1!
The insane “Swiss Wall” starts at the French border, in the Portes du Soleil ski region. As you can see, some parts have a 90% gradient!
10. Morzine (Portes du Soleil), France. Full marks for the extent of this region: it’s the second biggest in the world, with 13 different resorts and 208 ski lifts! Some of the resorts are in Switzerland, and it is fun to ski back and forth between countries. I wasn’t as keen on the sheer numbers of skiers, and some of the resorts (Avoriaz in particular) are purpose-built with little or no character. The Swiss resorts are smaller and more inviting, but the skiing on the Swiss side is also relatively limited. But there’s always the Swiss Wall…
Believe it or not: this is on-piste in the afternoon above Borgata (Sestriere)
9. Sestriere (Via Lattea), Italy. Italian for “Milky Way”, the Via Lattea includes 5 Italian resorts and one French resort (and 70 lifts). But getting to the French resort is not easy, especially when conditions are less than ideal. Still, we found some spectacular pistes…that made us forget about the sewage plant beside our hotel. Fortunately, most hotels are located away from that plant. Sestriere is another purpose-built resort, but it is old enough to still be interesting (a cylindrical hotel, anyone?).
Lots of choices, high above Lenk and Adelboden (Switzerland)
8. Lenk, Switzerland. Linked to the resort of Adelboden, this is a sentimental choice. It’s my Heimatort (place of origin) in Switzerland, and I can ski with family members here. While not as extensive as the other places on my list, it still feels very Swiss and I didn’t find crowds to be a problem. It’s also a quick train ride away from St. Stephan, which is part of the separate Gstaad ski area (and home to more skiing relatives). I had one of my best powder days ever here.
Madonna di Campiglio
7. Madonna di Campiglio,Italy. Not as extensive as the Via Lattea area, but scores higher on things like atmosphere and food quality. Like Lenk, it caters more to a domestic crowd. Perhaps for that reason, I really felt like I was on vacation when I was skiing here. I don’t think I heard any English during the entire week. We also spent an entire morning at an outdoor cafe!
Stuben at night
6. Stuben (St. Anton/Arlberg), Austria. The Arlberg ski region is another vast area, including 7 different resorts (perhaps more by now!). I enjoyed tiny and remote Stuben, which retained some Tyrolean character, but still gave access to the larger areas such as St. Anton, Lech and Zurs. You really have to pick your base carefully: St. Anton, for example, is just too rowdy and “in your face” for me.
Our ski group passing through the rocks at Pomedes (Cortina d’Ampezzo)
5. Cortina d’Ampezzo, Italy. Similar to Madonna di Campiglio, this is a major resort with a domestic focus. But I found the setting even more spectacular: skiing even closer to (and through!) the stunning Dolomites, and the legendary “Hidden Valley” actually lives up to the mystique of its name. With 12 distinct resorts in the Dolomiti SuperSki area, the options are endless even though there aren’t too many pistes in Cortina itself.
I’m enjoying the empty slopes at Piz Lagalb!
4. Celerina (St. Moritz), Switzerland. While St. Moritz is too posh for my taste, staying in nearby Celerina was the perfect way to experience this collection of five distinct resorts. Corvatsch had the best overall skiing, but the remote glacier areas of Diavolezza and Lagalb are unforgettable skiing experiences that few people bother to experience. The long-ish bus ride to Diavolezza and Lagalb is worth it: one day, there were only 10 other skiers on the slopes!
The jagged Dolomite peaks
3. Selva (Val Gardena), Italy. At the opposite end of the Dolomiti SuperSki area from Cortina d’Ampezzo, the town is perhaps not as elegant. But the combination of vast skiing options, unsurpassed food, and interesting culture made it one of my very best ski weeks ever (see the most recent post on this blog for proof!). This is the one resort that I keep wanting to revisit, and I would even like to return to the very same hotel. I never thought a hotel meal plan could be so amazing.
Me on the lower slopes of the mighty Eiger
2. Wengen, Switzerland. I have skied here (and the linked resort of Grindelwald) so often that I consider it my “home” ski area. So while it is partly a sentimental choice, I challenge anyone to find a more dramatic experience than skiing in front of (or on!) the legendary north face of the Eiger. I especially love the steep pistes (such as Black Rock or Oh God) just below the Eigergletscher, but there are challenges elsewhere too. One cannot forget the Schilthorn: despite being most famous for a James Bond movie, it’s a demanding and impossibly scenic mountain.
At the top of Klein Matterhorn, just before a wee bout of altitude sickness kicked in!
1. Zermatt, Switzerland. It’s huge, in every sense of the word. The resort spills over into Italy. You can ski a 20 km-long piste!! It even includes the Matterhorn (see photo at the top of this post)!!! But the best summary of Zermatt is a simple one: it is a resort that is unquestionably meant for skiers. If you are a serious skier and can only ski once in the Alps, you need to seriously consider Zermatt. Not every run is 20 km long, but many of them do seem to go on forever. There is an exceptional variety of terrain, with the Swiss side in particular having some very challenging on-piste skiing. Now, if only cost weren’t really an issue…
One consequence of being the photographer for my travel blog is that I don’t appear in many of the pictures. However, the pandemic has led me to discover some stashes of photographs taken by others. Today’s blog features photos (and a video!) taken by my friend during a 2013 ski trip to Val Gardena, Italy.
Happy to be here!!
What strikes me most about these pictures is how happy I/we look. It is such a privilege to spend time in the beautiful Dolomite mountains of northern Italy. I see no worries in anybody’s face! (And while I feel some nostalgia for those recently-retired orange ski boots, I don’t miss that heavily-stickered white helmet.)
Group shots are always a challenge!
On trips like this, there is so much to discover. New mountains, new pistes, new food, new culture…even, in the case of Val Gardena, a language (Ladin). It may sound corny, but I hear the voice of Louis Armstrong as I type this: “…and I think to myself, what a wonderful world…”
My best photobomb ever. Sorry, Richard!
This trip (which also included a brief visit to Verona, Italy, as well as some skiing in Stuben, Austria) was my last European trip before I started this blog in early 2014. As I mentioned in an earlier post about Val Gardena, it really can be liberating to just live in the moment and not worry about capturing every aspect for publication.
Sometimes you just have to stop and look!
Having people in the photos can also emphasize our insignificance. Time and time again, we stopped to look up in wonder at the hugeness of nature. The Alps don’t really care about the tiny structures and the artificial borders created by people!
We never get tired of skiing in Italy
Seeing myself in locations all over the Sella Ronda series of interconnected resorts reminds me of just how much movement is involved in an intense ski week. And I’m also reminded of how much I love to move! In a pandemic, it’s really hard to maintain that level of activity.
Hard at work on a future blog?
I’m not sure what prompted Richard to record the following video. Maybe it was just a beautiful sunny day? I remembered a “skiing in a blizzard” video that he gave me right after the trip (I loved that one, and you can see it here on YouTube), but I had completely forgotten about the one that appears below. Although they’re very short, they immediately bring me back to when they were created 8 years ago.
Sunny cruising on the lower slopes at Val Gardena
Every year since 2013, I have thought about returning to Val Gardena. Each time, my ski posse and I decided to try a new resort. But when I look at all the pictures (these are just a sample of the hundreds that exist), I still think it would be really nice to return. The world is too big to see and experience everything. Why not return to an acknowledged “happy place”? It’s going to be really hard to resist the pull of Val Gardena once international travel is possible again!
While tentatively musing about post-pandemic travel, I came across some photos from a highly enjoyable 2005 ski trip to Wengen, Switzerland. I’ve posted photos from other trips to the Wengen area (here’s a post featuring 1999-2002 photos; and here’s the start of a series of posts from a 2018 trip), but the 2005 trip was a special one.
The “James Bond 007” restaurant and cable car station at the top of the Schilthorn, high above the village of Mürren.
The linked resorts of Grindelwald, Wengen, and Mürren form a large and spectacular ski area in the shadow of three famous peaks: the Eiger, the Mönch, and the Jungfrau: these appear in the “cover” photo at the top of this post. As a base, I find Grindelwald a little busy: in addition to being the end of the railway line, you can actually drive to the resort…so there is a lot of car traffic. But both Wengen and Mürren are car-free: you can only get there by mountain train (for Wengen) or by a combination of lifts and trains (for Mürren). Both sit on impossibly remote alpine ledges, and there is no tourism sprawl.
Part of our group at the top of the Schilthorn (not sure why I opted for a headband)
As with all of my Swiss winter trips between 1992 and 2012, I was in Wengen for a ski camp organized by the Youth Division of the Auslandschweizer–Organisation (ASO – or “Organization of the Swiss Abroad”). 40 of us from around the world took over a youth hostel and spent a huge amount of time skiing and (in the evenings) participating in other Swiss activities.
The Birg cable car station, as seen from the Schilthorn
This trip was notable for two main reasons. Firstly, it marked my recovery from a complex concussion suffered the previous summer during a soccer game. I had to skip that hockey season and was only cleared for strenuous sports shortly before the trip. Being able to do “normal things” again (shades of the current pandemic situation!) was a long-awaited and very much appreciated development.
Wengen, seen from the cablecar on the way to Männlichen. Skating rink (and adjacent curling hall) at top left.
Secondly, our group leader Simon W. introduced us to the joys of off-piste skiing. Simon expertly assessed our capabilities, found us some amazing skiing, and taught us how to enjoy the “steep and deep” without unduly endangering ourselves. Not only did it make for an unforgettable 2005 experience, it prepared us for similar adventures in the future. One of my 2018 posts describes how some of us met Simon W. again in Wengen.
Our off-piste group “somewhere above Wengen”. Our guide at front right, in yellow jacket.
Many of the pictures in today’s post are from those off-piste adventures. I remember the first time I truly found the proper rhythm of skiing in very deep snow. It was both exhausting and exhilarating. Bouncing in and out of the powder was so much fun that a photo from that very run remains my Facebook avatar to this day.
I’m so glad there’s a picture of me enjoying one of my favourite ski runs ever! This is off-piste on the lower slopes of the mighty Eiger, which rises up to 3,967 metres (13,015 feet) right behind me.
However, one of my fondest memories was off the slopes. My very first time on skates for at least 6 months (since before the soccer injury) was on a snowy evening on an outdoor rink in Wengen. Even though I had to borrow skates and a hockey stick, I felt like a little kid again…giddy about being able to skate and stickhandle once again with no real rules or restrictions.
More off-piste adventures above Wengen
That evening on the ice, with dramatic mountains towering above me in every direction, made a profound impression on me. It was so memorable that it became the subject of an essay I submitted to the organizers of the Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics Torch Relay. You can imagine my joy at being selected to run a portion of that Olympic Torch Relay in December 2009 (here’s a link to my post about that special day).
Stretching before a long day of skiing: Männlichen (above Wengen)
Alas, one of the conditions of the Olympic Torch Relay was that I had to more or less relinquish the rights to my essay. So I can’t share the actual essay with you, but I think you get the basic idea.
More “sick” off-piste terrain above Wengen
I’ve also included some group photos. I’m still in touch with many of the other participants, with several of us still organizing an annual ski trip together even though we are technically no longer “young Swiss Abroad”. We won’t be able to do that this winter, but I’m sure we will in early 2022. I’m already thinking about where I would like to go!
Usually, the sixth day of skiing in a resort involves revisiting the highlights of the previous five days of skiing. However, due to the massive size of the Portes du Soleil region, we found ourselves in a completely new area on our last day.
A brilliant day above Les Crosets, Switzerland
Before this trip, I had never heard of Châtel, France. But it hosts a fairly extensive set of slopes radiating out in all directions from the town itself. The snow was excellent and we even made it into Switzerland again briefly: one of the lifts starts in France and ends in Switzerland. When you ski down, however, you soon find yourself back in France.
Turn left for everything, above Champoussin (Switzerland)
Of course, drama is the theme of this year’s trip…so it was only fitting that we had some more of it during our last day of skiing. This time, a power outage knocked out 4 lifts which we had just taken…and these were 4 lifts that we needed to get back to Morzine! We had to take 2 “navettes” in order to get around the blockage: on the second one, there must have been 100 people on the bus. We were wedged in like rush-hour commuters, with people falling onto each other whenever the bus went around a bend (which was a lot…these are the Alps!). Everybody was in a panic because they were afraid that they wouldn’t make it back before the rest of the lifts closed too.
Goulash in a bread bowl, at Champoussin (Switzerland)
Anyway, it worked out in the end and we had a very nice lunch at Le Blattin. This is a mountain hut high above Châtel that epitomized “cozy”. I would love to share some pictures of it, but my camera got soaked in the previous day’s rain and wasn’t working. Click here to see a picture that somebody else took.
Near Champoussin, Switzerland
In fact, I couldn’t take any pictures until the very end of the day. As the terrain and “vibe” was similar, I’m including some more pictures from Portes du Soleil Day 4 instead.
Near the Swiss border at Avoriaz (France), some skiers contemplate their next move
I continued skiing until 5:15 p.m. on the last day, and then caught a bus back to Morzine from the hamlet of Ardent. As the day slipped away, I passed the usual milestones: the last mountain lunch, the last lift, the last piste, the last turn…until I finally had to pop out of my bindings and admit that the skiing portion of my holiday was over.
Just inside the Swiss border, near Pointe des Mossettes
The Portes du Soleil region is massive. I didn’t get to the areas that were not lift-connected, and I didn’t really get to Mont-Chery, the slopes north and east of Châtel, the slopes north of Morgins, the slopes south of Avoriaz, or some of the slopes above Champery. That might look like a lot, but it pales in comparison to what we did actually see.
Les Lindarets, France, the “Village des Chèvres”
Overall, Portes du Soleil gets a passing grade, with bonus marks for the extended lift hours and the unique international aspect of the slopes. If I return here some day, I think I will base myself in one of the Swiss villages and focus on the Châtel and Swiss slopes. They were less busy and also felt more “authentic”, especially on the Swiss side. There was little or no purpose-built mass development, as we saw in Avoriaz (France). It was mayhem passing through the Avoriaz slopes during the late afternoon “rush hour”!
While the skiing part of my trip is now complete, I still have a brief stay in Geneva coming up. Stay tuned!
Our fourth and fifth days of skiing in Morzine could not have been more different. Day 4 was our second attempt to ski from France to Switzerland. Unlike our first attempt, we did not lose any gear along the way…and the weather was brilliant. At the border on Pointe des Mossettes, we could actually see a sign welcoming us to Switzerland. What a difference two days can make!
Admiring the scenery between Pointe des Mossettes and Morgins, Switzerland
We then took a long meandering piste, traversing both exposed Alpine slopes and cozy cliffside forests, all the way down to the Swiss village of Morgins. With a vertical drop of nearly 1000 m, but a very gentle slope, the piste seemed to go on forever. We didn’t mind: the mountains seemed much more rugged and awe-inspiring on the Swiss side of the border.
I took this photo at the end of the piste in Morgins, Switzerland
The slopes at Morgins, Champoussin, and Les Crosets were also virtually deserted. It was almost perfect: fresh snow, temperatures right around 0’C, blazing sun…we were happy to stay for lunch in Champoussin and plan our next move.
The “Dents du Midi” rise above Champoussin, Switzerland
We decided to take a closer look at the “Swiss Wall” (see photo at the very top of this post). This is a notorious piste, probably the steepest and most difficult marked piste in Europe (if not the world). Heavily mogulled, it also has a slope of 90% in places. It didn’t look too bad when I faced it, but when I looked down on it from the chair lift…that old survival gene kicked in. This would be a test of nerves, not elegance. Ultimately, I didn’t think 3:30 p.m., after a heavy goulash lunch, was the best time to attempt the most difficult piste I’ve ever seen. After taking a few pictures, we retreated from the Swiss Wall and re-entered France. We returned to Morzine quite tired but very happy with our international ski safari.
The Swiss Wall, seen from below
The 5th day was another story. It rained for 24 hours straight. And not just a light drizzle: most of that 24-hour period could be fairly described as “pouring”. I took no pictures, because it would have been pointless. We did go skiing, trying to escape the incessant rain in Morzine. While the rain did indeed turn to snow at about 1700 m elevation, it was accompanied by howling winds and whiteout conditions. And then the lifts started closing. We took a rare mid-morning break, and an extended lunch, in an attempt to dry out a bit.
Just above Morgins, Switzerland
The day ended with my mitts literally disintegrating in my bathroom sink. Everything was drenched, and I have no idea what will dry out enough to be usable tomorrow. My mitts were so structurally compromised that I went out and bought new ones just before the shops closed. Not my proudest consumer moment, but I really had no choice if I wanted to participate in the final day of skiing.
Approaching Les Crosets, Switzerland
For obvious reasons, all of today’s pictures are from the much more photogenic 4th day of skiing in France and Switzerland.
I just completed two of the strangest days of skiing I’ve ever had. They are forever linked by a massive blizzard…the 4th one I’ve experienced in a six-day period.
Ludicrous snowfall in Les Lindarets, France
On Monday, our goal was to ski to (and in) Switzerland. This involved several lifts and pistes, passing through the high alpine resort of Avoriaz, before finally disembarking from the Mossette chairlift above the Swiss village of Les Crosets. It seemed simple enough, and it didn’t take too much more than an hour.
Several hours later, the blizzard continues on the pistes near Les Lindarets, France
Alas, we had some challenges. One skier’s backpack somehow became unzipped while on the Mossette lift, and he lost both his spare jacket and his spare gloves in the desolate border region far below. After getting off the lift, we immediately returned to France from Switzerland. A simple plan to meet again (after a search for the missing items) went laughably wrong, as the Mossette lift was then closed due to sudden high winds and blizzard-like conditions. We had to take 3 lifts to get back to where we once were, and the visibility was rapidly deteriorating.
Top of the slopes on “La Rosta”
Never mind the appealing novelty of skiing in Switzerland for a few hours…we couldn’t see anything above the treeline, and we ran the risk that the rest of the cross-border lifts would also close and leave us stranded. We were forced to retreat to lower altitudes, away from the Swiss border, and close to the French village of Ardent. The pistes were drowning in wet snow. I actually love those kinds of conditions, but it is very hard work to slice through such voluminous and soggy snow. We had lunch in a very picturesque hamlet above Ardent called Les Lindarets, also known as the “Village des Chèvres” (“village of goats”). We had to ski down the main “street” to select an appropriate restaurant.
Me and my friend, the skiing “Milka” cow
After lunch (see photo of Les Lindarets above), there must have been an additional foot of snow. It was impossible to figure out where our skis where, as so much snow had fallen on them. It was pouring snow, forming outrageous patterns on our helmets and jackets. With temperatures hovering around 0’C, the snow soon turned to water on our ski outfits. I’ve never been so wet after skiing in such an intense blizzard.
Another view of the “Milka” cow, at the “La Rosta” peak near Les Gets, France
The next day, we awoke to an obscene amount of new snow. While some pistes were groomed, many weren’t. So we encountered dramatic off-piste conditions, except that we were still mostly skiing on-piste. Skiing through such deep snow can be exhausting. You can’t just slide or coast: you need to constantly keep your ski tips up to avoid face-planting, and you essentially need to “jump” from turn to turn to avoid getting stuck (or, again, doing a face-plant). It’s great fun, but you cannot let your guard down for even a second. And many of the pistes above Les Gets are very long.
We had lunch at this mountain restaurant, just above Les Gets
As noon approached, we had our most challenging runs of the day. The Myrtilles piste on Pointe de la Turche was ungroomed and had about 3-4 feet of new, loose snow on top of it. It also was rated as a black piste…in a country where very, very few pistes attract the black (meaning “very difficult”) rating. It was steep and unpredictable, even without 3-4 feet of new, loose snow on top of the existing base. See the “cover” photo at the top of this post for a photo taken near the top. Looking at it now, I can’t believe we went down twice. Once again: we were completely exhausted, but with a sense of real accomplishment.
And this is what I had for lunch: Tartiflette (cheese, potatoes, cream, bacon)
After such a draining experience, it came as no surprise that a skiing purple cow was waiting for us at the top of the neighbouring La Rosta peak. I posed for a photo (during which cow repeatedly and loudly mooed), and was rewarded with a handful of “Milka” chocolates. Apparently, Milka’s mascot is a purple cow. And this cow skis, albeit not that well. It has a very big head, which may impact “her” skiing ability. Still, I am impressed that a cow can ski at all. I then got my daily alpine cheese fix with a delicious “tartiflette” for lunch.
Our hotel in Morzine, France
The last skiing shock of the day came at the absurdly late hour of 5:29 p.m., when we were able to board the local gondola and ski one final time down to Morzine. I’ve never been on such a late daytime lift…and we had started the day before 9:00 a.m. We had the piste to ourselves: we could watch the sun begin to set while we were still on the slopes.
I don’t think anything can surprise me now. But we still have three more days of skiing…who knows what still lies ahead?
While I enjoyed the tranquility of Les Diablerets, it was time to move on to Morzine, France. It’s not far: maybe only 60 km if you could walk. But you can’t. And, in the winter, most of the mountain passes are closed to traffic. As a result, our train and shuttle bus journey took nearly 6 hours (with an hour stopover in Geneva).
Rösti with goat cheese, at the Auberge de la Poste in Les Diablerets, Switzerland
There are worse ways to spend half a day. We began with a very scenic ride on the quaint mountain railroad between Les Diablerets and Aigle. We then followed the entire north shore of Lake Geneva, with its great views of the French Alps, to get to Geneva itself. Finally, we circled back on the south side of Lake Geneva and turned onto the claustrophobic narrow valley that leads to Morzine.
The castle at Aigle, Switzerland (a.k.a. le château d’Aigle)
Our first impression of Morzine was not very good. The rain was pouring down and there were quite a few brown patches visible on the slopes immediately above the town. It looked like a lot of skiers were ending their day early. It sure didn’t look like a whole lot of fun. Especially when I had to do some laundry in a dimly lit and odd-smelling laundromat.
Morzine, France, as seen from the top of the Pointe de Nyon piste
Of course, rain at the lower elevations often means snow at the higher ones. And the relentless rain evolved into brilliant sunshine by the morning. There was even some fresh snow! The photo at the top of this post was taken at the start of our very first run (from the top of the Pleney lift).
Lake Geneva in the distance, as seen from the top of Chamossiere
Morzine is just one of the 13 villages that make up the “Portes du Soleil” ski region shared by Switzerland and France. You can ski across the border at a number of locations. It is one of the two largest ski regions in the world: there are about 200 lifts, and more than 650 km of pistes!
Essentially the same view, but photobombed by a Dutch skier
Our first day was devoted to the pistes near Morzine. My favourites were those on Chamossiere and Pointe de Nyon, where there was still a significant amount of loose snow. By the end of the day, the weather had changed to a blizzard…but, once again, that’s not a bad thing if it clears up by the morning.
Everybody has their cameras out at Chamossiere
With no lift lines to speak of (on a weekend!) and a huge range of skiing options, Morzine and the Portes du Soleil are steadily improving on that iffy first impression. Stay tuned to see the final verdict, as we venture further afield!
