Today went completely bluebird, which worked out well as this was the first time I got to see a larger part of this mind-blowing ski region, which is composed of 12 different sectors. Although I've titled today's TR "Châtel" because that's where we spent the most time, we also skied in Avoriaz on the French side and the Les Crosets and Champéry sectors in Switzerland.
As mentioned in my previous trip reports, I spent the first two days in the Les Gets and Morzine sectors; however, my local host today was Colin, an American who worked on the snowmaking crew at Stowe for six years during the late 90s/early 00s and met a French woman there (she and I met at a French Alps event in NYC). They eventually married, relocated to this region, and operate a popular Irish pub/micro brewery in the center of Les Gets -- yes, it's called Irish Pub and yes, you feel like you've been teleported to the UK there. I went last night and caught the first set of a French Rolling Stones tribute band and had two pints of their excellent porter. Too bad they don't bottle it as I'd certainly buy a couple cases.
Colin's no-nonsense northeastern skiing upbringing informed all of today. His idea of ski paradise was Spruce at Stowe before the high-speed lift and base village went in and, oh yeah, he *HATES* the French habit of decadent 90- to 120-minute lunches (similar to the one I had yesterday in Morzine). Instead, we spent all of today finding:
a) soft leftovers alongside the trails:
or
b) wide open expanses of tracked but easy-to-ski powder with no one anywhere in the vicinity: for lack of a better term, meadow skipping. Any ungroomed snow, even when it was blasted by the sun, stayed incredibly soft due to the cold temps:
Per Colin's terms, there was no fancy-pants lunch. Instead, our 12-minute midday break consisted of this:
He's a real character -- with the cigarette and sunglasses, like something out of a French new wave film from the 1960s:
Around 3 pm, we had to cross the border back into France, past the "Swiss Wall" -- an 1,100-vert moguled "Outer Limits"-type run (it's in the far distance to the right of the lift):
As mentioned in my previous trip reports, I spent the first two days in the Les Gets and Morzine sectors; however, my local host today was Colin, an American who worked on the snowmaking crew at Stowe for six years during the late 90s/early 00s and met a French woman there (she and I met at a French Alps event in NYC). They eventually married, relocated to this region, and operate a popular Irish pub/micro brewery in the center of Les Gets -- yes, it's called Irish Pub and yes, you feel like you've been teleported to the UK there. I went last night and caught the first set of a French Rolling Stones tribute band and had two pints of their excellent porter. Too bad they don't bottle it as I'd certainly buy a couple cases.
Colin's no-nonsense northeastern skiing upbringing informed all of today. His idea of ski paradise was Spruce at Stowe before the high-speed lift and base village went in and, oh yeah, he *HATES* the French habit of decadent 90- to 120-minute lunches (similar to the one I had yesterday in Morzine). Instead, we spent all of today finding:
a) soft leftovers alongside the trails:
or
b) wide open expanses of tracked but easy-to-ski powder with no one anywhere in the vicinity: for lack of a better term, meadow skipping. Any ungroomed snow, even when it was blasted by the sun, stayed incredibly soft due to the cold temps:
Per Colin's terms, there was no fancy-pants lunch. Instead, our 12-minute midday break consisted of this:
He's a real character -- with the cigarette and sunglasses, like something out of a French new wave film from the 1960s:
Around 3 pm, we had to cross the border back into France, past the "Swiss Wall" -- an 1,100-vert moguled "Outer Limits"-type run (it's in the far distance to the right of the lift):
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