Vacances d'hiver

a tour of what snow we could find in the French Alps

This winter in Europe is, in the words of the Canadians’ landlord, the worst winter for snow in 62 years. Amazingly, the Nordic ski teams have found something to ski on from mid-November through mid-March, though it certainly required trying very hard. Peter remained undaunted, and for winter break we shifted from Nordic to alpine and he researched higher altitude opportunities with last minute booking available. We landed in two places the French don’t ski as often, but the Brits and Russians do: Courchevel and Chamonix.

(From the top of Courchevel with endless views along the Alps on one of many bluebird days.)

This post is made up of two parts, which excludes some parts of the adventure but captures, we hope, the feeling in general: the first, by Jude, is his adventure getting lost in Courchevel. The second is Sam’s and Peter’s excursion on La Vallée Blanche at Chamonix.

(This École du Ski Français instructor knows what our boys have come to learn too: tartiflette represents the best of Alps comfort food, especially when you need a highly caloric meal after a day on the snow.)

We didn’t know what we were getting into with Courchevel, reputedly one of the biggest ski areas in the world, but knew it was higher altitude. It’s location among three valleys makes for exquisite terrain, but it clearly serves a particular kind of clientele; finding a t-shirt shop was not an easy feat, but if you were in the market for Louis Vuitton, we found four shops without even trying. Ditto Prada and maybe Escada— if you wanted to drop a few grand on a puffy ski coat, you would have very little problem doing it. (I finally did find a t-shirt). Meanwhile, ski tickets were a mere 70 Euros (about a 1:1 exchange rate), versus for example an outrageously eye-popping $229 for Whistler back home.

Since the World Cup was being held at Courchevel while we were there, we stumbled across a fun evening show on the way to dinner one night.

(Thanks to the alpine World Cup, every night was a celebration.)

While lacking in storms with dumps of new powder, we had beautiful bluebird days. I managed a couple of half days of cruiser skiing with my knee. The boys spent a lot of time jumping off of things and hanging out in the terrain park; unfortunately, that has resulted in Sam getting something called Osgood-Schlatter, a common knee ailment for boys in their growth phase, which now requires him to take off of all activity for a while other than stretching and low impact strength. He’s pretty frustrated (but while he was jumping earlier this winter in skis, he was having fun!)

(Signs like this up top in Russian were as common as signs in English in Courchevel.)

We were surprised by how many Russians there were skiing—even signs in Russian on some of the gondolas. We heard from a friend in the ski industry many of the Russians were currently living somewhere in Europe other than Russia. The Russians that come were known to buy everything when they arrive—ski gear, fancy outfits, the lot—and leave it when they leave (makes you wonder if Louis Vuitton has a seconds rack?) Their outfits were Vogue worthy, and one woman we saw having lunch at the top, who was definitely not skiing, wore some kind of a shimmery-partial-suit-thing along with hair extensions and pounds of makeup. She was taking selfies while her dining partner focused on his hamburger—she could have been in the middle of a high fashion photo shoot.

In searching for last minute housing deals we DID luck out with a deal to stay at the same inn where the U.S. men’s downhill team was staying to ski the World Cup, as well as the Norwegian men’s downhill team, and so were in the presence of greatness at buffer breakfasts and dinners, and Jude got a picture with a Norwegian who apparently just retired in the past week or so.

(Jude hamming it up with World Cup racers.)

By Jude:

In France, 🇫🇷 winter break is two weeks long. This winter break we went to Courchevel and Chamonix. 

Courchevel is part of Les Trois Vallées, the worlds largest ski resort, built around three huge valleys and six towns.   

One day my dad my brother and I were going to attempt skiing ⛷️ across all the three valleys. After several hours traversing up and down across two valleys and many lifts, we went up a chair lift up 🔝 to drop into the third and final valley. I stopped to put my goggles, on and when I was finished, I couldn’t see my dad or Sam. I thought they had skied down a little bit and waited. I started to go down to where I thought they had gone but I couldn’t see them or find them.       

I skied a little more to see if they had gone further, but had no luck. Then I thought of the idea that they might have stayed up where I changed my goggles and didn’t see me leave. I waited in the middle of the slope for at least half an hour. Then I knew that they didn’t know where I was. 

(Jude prior to being left for his own adventure.)

I just used my instincts to follow a trail that I thought might eventually lead me back across the two valleys and along many lifts back to the hotel. I started going down the slope and took up chair lifts and gondolas and finally got to a gondola I thought would bring me over in the direction of the hotel. I took the gondola up and started skiing down a trail that I thought I could do. Then I realized there were avalanche danger signs around and it was really steep and icy. I took my skis off and started to slowly hike back up the slope. A British family asked if I was ok, and I said yes. Then they asked where my parents were. I said my parents were just down the hill and would meet me at the bottom, but that wasn’t true because I knew if I said I didn’t know where they were, it would be a big problem. I thought I knew where I was going so I thought it was ok to just pretend so they wouldn’t worry about me. 

I took the next gondola back down the slope and started going where I thought I should.  When I arrived at the bottom, I took another trail that might lead me back. When I got to the end of the trail I knew where I was so I took up the next gondola 🚡. The gondola had a stop point in the middle, but when I got there the next part was closed. I asked a person how to get to my hotel in the next town over the mountain. ⛰️ The person said to ski over to yet another gondola. I went where he told me to go and found a gondola to take to the top of the next mountain. At the top, I knew where I was and I skied back to our hotel.                      

[Dad’s note: losing Jude wasn’t my finest parenting moment. Les Trois Vallées, which we were traversing, include 183 lifts covering 105 square kilometers, about twice the size of Manhattan. Sam and I searched for an hour before realizing we were truly separated from Jude. We were certain we’d lost him at the top of the lift, so we knew he hadn’t careened off a slope somewhere. We also expected he’d ski cautiously if he was on his own. That said, if he didn’t take the right sequence of lifts, he could easily end up in the wrong town when the lifts closed. Hours of anticipation passed, and we’re all relieved when Shannon called me well into the afternoon and said he’d shown up on his own at the right hotel having proudly navigated Les Trois Vallées on his own!]

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Shannon:

After Courchevel, we drove through mountain valleys to make our way over to Chamonix (you may remember we were in Chamonix in the summer as well). This trip back we went for snow, or what snow they had— and also the opportunity to overlap for a day with other Methow friends! They were visiting on there first day of their break from Norway, and it was the last day of ours, and it was the perfect chance to ski and sit outside enjoying an exceptionally long French lunch and catch up on our shared experiences of expat life.

By Sam:

After an amazing few days of skiing in Courchevel, we decided to go to Chamonix for a few days. In this blog I will be talking about the big ski day we did on the slopes of Mount Blanc. Before I get into too many details, I should probably talk about how and why we were in Chamonix.

In France school ends during the first week of July but you have two-week breaks every other month vs the US where you only have far fewer breaks. For the second week of winter break we decided to change up the Nordic skiing and do some downhill skiing. We split the week between Courchevel and to Chamonix. 

Chamonix is the town on the French side that is at the bottom of Mont Blanc. Mont Blanc is the third highest mountain in Europe measuring 15,778 feet or 4,809 meters. (The highest mountain in Europe is in Russia and is called Mount Elbrus measuring 18510 feet or 5642 meters.) 

(Town center in Chamonix.)

While we were in Chamonix we heard of a super fun off piste ski that was on the slope of Mont Blanc. You would ski down through a valley called La Vallée Blanche. But how were we going to get there? Well in Chamonix there is a long tram that goes up to 12,604 feet or 3,842 m. From there you can see the top of Mont Blanc and all the mountains around. It is very beautiful. 

I was very excited, and right after hearing about this adventure I knew I wanted to do it. So did my dad and mom. Unfortunately my mom’s knee was still hurting, and she could not join. It was still possible for my dad and me to try, so we found the central guide shop and ran there as fast as we could. That afternoon we had scheduled a guide for the following day to ski La Vallée Blanche. This was not very easy because the guides were worried about bringing a 13 year-old on this tour, but we told them I was good at skiing and they finally agreed. (The next day I proved myself to our guide and he was very impressed/surprised). 

That evening we spent three hours shopping and renting gear for the trip. We needed skis, ski crampons, skins, foot crampons, food, ect. That evening I jumped into bed extra early and fell asleep quickly, being very excited for the day ahead.

The next morning I woke up and quickly got together all of the gear I would need. Then I ran down to breakfast with my dad. We got there around 6:50am and had to wait until they opened at 7am. Finally the moment arrived, and we ran in and started eating quickly. We got first dibs on everything, too, because we were the only people there. 

My mom drove us to the bottom of the Aguille de Midi tram where we met our guide Jean-Pierre. We put on our harnesses and avalanche beacons and purchased a single ticket up. Then we ran to the tramcar that was just leaving and hopped on. Around 20 minutes later we arrived at the first station. A few people hopped off but mostly everyone stayed on. Then we started the journey to the top/second station. 

(Our view into the top of La Vallée Blanche before we descended.)

Looking out the window was a crazy sight. We were on a tram that was around 1,000 feet from the ground. And right in front of us was a huge cliff. Two minutes later we were going up the cliff face on the tram cables. It was basically moving straight up! I was a little scared we would fall but I told myself that people have been taking this tram for years and no one has gotten hurt.

And that is when it happened. The tram car lurched. Stopped. And started falling backward at full speed down the track. Everyone in the car was all shoved towards the window that was facing down. Skis were flying and for a second I felt weightless as we descended. Then we hit the bottom with a defining smack smashing the tram to pieces and sending us all flying. And then all went black! 

Just joking!!!! :)

After around seven-eight more minutes we arrived at the top all safe and sound. Without a single scratch. Our guide wanted to show us the viewpoint so he took us to a little point which was the highest you could go in the tram building. When we arrived at the site I almost fainted and fell down the huge cliff from the beauty. Mont Blanc towering above us, the snow glistening on the slopes, and the rocks jutting out from the snow. It was amazing. But we prepared for our adventure. 

(Checking out La Vallée Blanche from the Aguille de Midi tram station.)

We put on our crampons and roped up. From this little outcropping we had to walk on a razor’s edge with a cliff on both sides to descent to the snowfield. Luckily there was a rope to hold onto, but if you fell you were dead. It was probably the most dangerous part of the trip. After around 20 minutes of descending very carefully, we arrived at the top of the snowfield slopes. There were around 25 other people there getting their skis on, but after the first slope everyone spread out and we were alone. 

(Samuel following Jean-Pierre on the skin up to the border with Italy.)

After a few minutes we started our ski, but at some places we had to stay on the exact same track as our guide because there were huge crevasses hidden beneath the snow cover. After the first stretch we could spread out a little to avoid putting too much weight on hidden snow bridges, causing a collapse and fall into a void.

You could just descend La Vallée Blanche but we decided to ascend and skin up around 1,500 feet to a high pass. After around 25 minutes of skiing down we came to the place where you could go up. After a little break there, we put on our skins and started up. It was a steep slope and very tiring. At 11,500 feet there is less oxygen. There is enough to breathe but a lot less than you are used to which made the climb even harder.

(Samuel, and more skinning up, near the top.)

After what felt like 10 hours we arrived at the top. From there you could see into the Italian side of Mont blanc. It was beautiful. You could see for miles. After a little time enjoying the view, we ate lunch and started back down again. Around half way down the slope we had just ascended, we saw a small ice bridge across a crevasse. The crevasse was mostly covered with snow so it did not look too crazy but it was super fun to cross. We skied for another couple hours and we got to see many more fun views of the amazing glacier and the big crevasse. 

(Following the exact tracks from our guide while traversing crevasses and snow bridges.)

After an amazing ski we reached the bottom, but we were not finished. The only way out was to hike with your skis on your pack up lots of stairs to get to one of the ridges with a train back to town. And by a lot of stairs, I mean A LOT OF STAIRS!!! 580 stairs to be exact! That is hiking up a 58 story tall building with skis on your pack! It was gruesome and very tiring. After finally making it up I was dead tired, but I had had an awesome day. After the train ride, my mom picked us up and I finally made it home in a daze. I was so tired that I just lay in our hotel room for most of the evening. 

(Late in the day, skis off, and ready for the final ascent out of the valley by foot.)

But was it worth it? YES!!! It was one of the best adventures of my life, and I will never forget it. If you ever have the chance to go to Chamonix in the winter and if you love to ski, I would highly recommend trying La Vallée Blanche. 

I hope you enjoyed this account of my adventures in chamonix. Thank you for reading and have an amazing day.

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(Bonnie joined for the whole trip, always eager to comfort tired boys at the end of a big day.)