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| View from Crevacol looking towards the col du Gd St Bernard. |
Some time ago I promised myself that I would never again complain about being cold while skiing. There are, after all, far too many days now when it is not cold enough. Modern skiers actively hope for cold; without it, we don’t really have a sport at all.
That said, last week was cold. Very cold.
We arrived before the sun, which was clearly in no hurry. Getting kitted up in the car park was bracing in the way that makes you question your life choices. Wrestling with ski boots that had apparently decided to shrink overnight was almost more than we could manage.
Despite this promising start, Crevacol turned out to be a delightful ski station with excellent terrain and huge off-piste potential. The only minor complication was that it was now –22°C and windy, which rather narrowed one’s comfort zone. https://www.crevacol.it
The following day we skied in Verbier, meeting up with Peter, Robert, Margret and Philip. The weather was immaculate—blue skies, not a cloud in sight, as it had been for weeks—yet the pistes were in remarkably good condition. Credit where it’s due: they had been beautifully maintained.
For old times’ sake we stopped for lunch at the Mont Fort Hut. Peter and I reminisced about staying there together during the Haute Route some 30 years ago. The legendary guardian, Daniel, has since retired, but the new owners are doing an excellent job, which was reassuring.
On Wednesday we skied the Savoleyres and La Tzoumaz areas, both in good condition.
Once out of the sun, however, the temperature was—how shall I put it—memorable. But as previously stated, I am not complaining.
On our final day the weather finally shifted. The temperature rose to a positively tropical –2°C and it began to snow. The first snowfall of the year. We chose to ski on the Bruson side of Verbier, which has the advantage of trees and therefore visibility—always a popular feature.
We finished skiing early as the snow became heavy and we were concerned about getting back over the Col de Forclaz to Chamonix. In the end the road was passable, though we did encounter several cars that were well and truly stuck. Being stuck without snow tyres is a double misfortune: first you are stuck, and then you are fined for it.
Once back in Chamonix, the snow really got going. We had two full days of continuous snowfall, which came as a great relief to everyone connected with winter sports—around here, that is more or less everyone.
