Skiing Through Chaos

Iconic Land Rover in its element 

 

Dax enjoying himself

It was raining hard in Chamonix. Every ski lift was closing — or had already closed — due to avalanche risk. So we knew we weren’t skiing in the valley. It had to be snowing somewhere; the question was where, and at what altitude.

Mark, Annie, Gavin, Dax and I headed for Combloux. We arrived, got out of the car, and were immediately soaked by torrential rain. It did not, at that moment, feel like a masterstroke.

Yet as we rode the first gondola, the rain turned to sleet, then to big,fat flakes of snow. Eventually it became dry, fluffy snow — the sort you imagine in brochures and rarely encounter in real life. Because we were in the trees, we had visibility, shelter, and a day of skiing untracked bottomless powder. The trick, as ever, was simply being at the right altitude, on the right aspect, with a realistic appreciation of what 24 hours of weather had just done to the snowpack.

On Thursday the weather was just as chaotic — if anything, more so. Even more snow, and once again everything closed in Chamonix. This time we headed to St Gervais. The avalanche risk was 4/5, which concentrates the mind. Low-angle slopes,  trees, careful route choices: , all of it necessary for a good day

Friday dawned clear. We headed to Les Contamines and were treated to world-class conditions. Every turn was smooth, cold, and deeply satisfying. Even so, route choice remained a critical necessity. Blue skies do not repeal the laws of physics, nor do they reset a snowpack that has spent the week being rearranged by storms.

Annie in pillows of powder

Choose the routes carefully

Saturday, the snow returned. After careful reading of the weather forecast we decided to head to Courmayeur . The skiing was again exceptionally good. Significantlly colder than Chamonix meant the snow was as good as it gets, and there was a lot of it!

two meters?

We also managed to enjoy a good lunch at the Chaumiere. , 

On the final day, Sunday, we returned to Italy once more, this time heading to La Thuile. By then the rhythm of the week was clear: read the weather, respect the snowpack, choose terrain accordingly, and avoid confusing enthusiasm with judgment.

It’s remarkable how often good skiing follows that formula.

After lunch we skied endless powder fields all the way back to town. 

On of the many long descents.