When They Say Bad...

Making do in the French Alps
by Josh Rhea

The complete lack of people waiting at the train station in St. Gervais should have warned us. There weren't many ski bags around either, but we figured most people with the means were driving rental cars or getting bused in to Chamonix, so we didn't worry. The mountains were huge, and promising snow-covered peaks peered over the dirty-brown hills surrounding us.

Twenty minutes later, and 36 hours after we'd left Salt Lake before the Olympic mayhem, a shiny red train looking more like a tour bus bound for Jupiter came screeching into the Gare (French for train station). We were soon relaxing in a styled-out first-class cabin with ceiling windows to view the passing mountains. Then unwanted rumors of the 'bad season' the western Alps were experiencing began to resurface.

"Are those ski slopes?," Evan Moore, my snowboarder cohort casually asked. My eyes followed her outstretched finger to a spider web of pistes slicing through some nearby trees. Not a chance--even in a bad season, I couldn't imagine what appeared to be an entire ski area completely devoid of snow. It was a depressing scene: low, oppressively gray clouds lording over a realm of leafless trees and muddy, dead-grass slopes. Thoughts of the money we'd spent getting here churned in my brain, while images of knee-deep powder at Snowbird tortured my every step.

Regardless, we had arrived in Chamonix, France, and were certain we could find some terrain that would back up the region's unchallenged reputation. That night, massive flakes fell like bricks in a consistent dump, lightening our spirits with the unexpected change of fortune. Unfortunately, our first mistake the next morning was asking a shop tech where the best place to ski would be, considering the low visibility and poor conditions.

Le Brevent, its lifts within easy walking distance from Le Centre Ville (center of town), possesses unbelievable terrain--huge cliffs, endless couloirs, and massive bowls. None of it was skiable. We were stuck skiing a soggy slush-fest with every intermediate European skier from England to Germany. Forays into the limited off-piste resulted in nasty core shots and resulting terrifying tumbles. Our spirits low, we ended the day early with a bowl of melted cheese (French lasagna) and a bottle of wine. We didn't realize we were setting a nefarious precedent for the rest of the trip.

Downtrodden and jetlagged the next day, we decided to explore another ski area further up-valley, Les Grands Montets. With a higher base elevation than Le Brevent and a reputation as one of the most challenging areas in the valley, Montets held our last vestige of hope. Awaiting our eyes upon exiting the first tram, or telepherique, was a nearly impossible view after the misery of the previous day. Sparkling powder stretched across a mountain easily three times the size of Snowbird, and every lift, gondola, and tram on the mountain was running. I nearly collapsed in delight.

We only spent three more days on the hill, all of them at Les Grands Montets. Buried rocks and nasty shark fins continued to gouge our skis, but conditions ranged from buttery powder to pure windbuff. Massive glaciers provided the best rock-free skiing, but that came at the risk of unknown crevasses hiding under unmarked, off-piste snow bridges. Down days were spent nursing colds and sleeping, nursing our worn-out bodies to a semblance of health.

Europe is a place where bad can be worse than you ever imagined, and good blows away anything this side of the Atlantic, save Alaska. Even in a bad year with springtime temperatures in February, the glaciers hold good snow, a few cliffs can be dropped, and every single run on the mountain has a better view than the one from your window back home. I realize POWDER has repeatedly exhorted the virtues of skiing across the pond over the years, but I'm going to do it one more time. You deserve to ski the Alps. If you have ever taken a ski vacation in the continental United States, you can afford to ski in Europe. Airline tickets are reasonable (think New York to Denver rates), and lift tickets and hotel rates are far cheaper overseas. You'll rarely pay more than $30 for a day ticket, and slopeside accommodations are easily found for under $60 per night. Get there.