Chamonix '26 - Day 1 - Crochues-Bérard Traverse

After getting into town late and scarfing down some pizza, I had a fitful night of sleep in my shared hostel room. I awoke to a beautiful sunny sky, and with plans not set yet the day buzzed with the potential energy of adventures to be had. I message a few folks on Reddit and Oak, finally getting a hit from a dude named Ryan W. He sounds like he knows what he's doing, and is heading to somewhere in "The Rouge" today. Ryan is willing to show me around, along with another skier. The only catch is that I have to be at Flegere in 45 minutes.

I make a mad dash to collect all my gear and scarf down hostel breakfast (prepackaged croissants, salami, yoghurt). A machine assembles my cafe au lait while I furiously study bus maps. I'm glad I became familiar with the walk downtown last night.

Finally I have my skis and pack together, and set off toward town. My ski boots click against the pavement - thank god for walk mode! The town reveals itself in the morning light, though the high peaks around me are shrouded in a dense morning fog. More bikes than cars breeze past me, many with skis strapped to the side. Someone runs past who looks like a pro athlete, decked out in brand new gear. Casual Chamonix Wednesday. I arrive in the rotary of Chamonix Sud and quickly locate the bus which will take me to Flegere. I hop in queue along with a dozen or so other skiers. A snowboarder clocks my ice axe and chats me up. Alphonso is from Portugal and tells me about all the extraordinary ski destinations I have to check out in Europe. Austria, Switzerland, Italy, Andorra. I try to keep a mental list. We chat about skiing and life, and very quickly the bus arrives at Flegere. I'm 10 minutes early, nice. I wait by the gondola building and relish the morning sun, now beginning to dispense the fog and reveal the craggy peaks.

Nick arrives first, an Aussie primary school teacher who has been skiing his way around Europe for several weeks between jobs. He is relatively new to touring but psyched to get up there with us. Ryan arrives soon after and we discuss the plan in the (huge) gondola ride up. From the gondola, we ride another chair and a button lift (my first time on a button!). From there we skin up about 300m (metric!!!) to the Col des Crochues, followed by a ski traverse and then the option for either the Glacier du Mort or Col de Berard.

As we make our way up the three lifts the views become increasingly more dramatic. A river of clouds rushes through the valley floor, creating a gorgeous undercast. Ryan points out features with cryptic French names in the distance. We join a group of about 2 dozen folks skinning up from the top of the Index button lift, settling into a nice rhythm zigzagging our way up to the first col. Suffice it to say that my kick turns need work - I'm just glad I wasn't the only one. The skin track becomes steeper and steeper until I reached a kick turn that's beyond my meager abilities. I strap my skis to my back and chase Ryan up the last hundred feet (30m) to the col. Behind us, the whole resort is laid out and we watch skiers make their way down the pistes. Ahead of us is a low angle snowfield with dark clouds looming...

Booting up the Col des Crochues

Looking back down at Flegere

Looking ahead, where darker skies loom...

Nick follows right behind us and we transition for the traverse. Ryan warns us that this won't be the most fun but it's a necessary evil. The skiing starts out decent for a few turns before quickly becoming an icy side hilling nightmare. My light skis are not thrilled. Ryan points out a group of folks climbing another col in the distance, which would be our path to Glacier du Mort. However, a cloud has already enveloped the top half and is quickly descending upon us. He decides to take us further to Col du Berard. In a short time the cloud has completely filled in the valley we are in. Visibility is reduced to just a few feet (even fewer meters, for the French) and winds have picked up tremendously. As we transition to skin up to the Col, my skis become a parachute and the wind threatens to blow my gear away. Ryan loses his skin bag in the process - it is taken by a gust and blows down the slopes into the mist before we can even react. "I fucking hate littering" he mutters, slightly frustrated at the gaff. I joke that we need to pick up 5 pieces of litter for karmic balance. 

We trudge up the bowl - at least, Ryan says it's a bowl. I can barely hear him over the wind, and the fog is incredibly dense. I try to keep him in my vision as we skin upward. 

Finally we reach the top of the col, and...we can't see much below us. I pray that the skiing will be better - my legs can't take another thousand feet of chattery ice. We transition and drop in, pleasantly surprised by lovely chewed up snow. As we skied down, the skies finally started to part and we could see the valley open up in front of us.

Ryan led us to skier's right, where he had reports of untouched powder. Boy was he right! Even 4 days after the most recent storm, we still found incredible fresh snow that was sheltered from the sun and skied excellently. We took turns ripping down the pow and filming each other, stopping to revel in the glorious views that now surrounded us.

Skiing powder in the land of giants...

Nick, psyched on pow!

After a thousand feet of lovely powder skiing in the valley, we descended onto the glacier's apron. We were surrounded by couloirs and tall craggy peaks. Ryan pointed out a few zones that he had skied previously, and many of the couloirs had avalanche debris piled at the bottom. My mind raced with the possibilities of just this one zone - was that one skiable, that feature looks fun, I'd love to come back and ski those couloirs! Chamonix truly contains multitudes of lifetimes of skiing, and in my head I was already beginning to plan my next (and hopefully much longer) trip.

The skiing flattened out, and a few pole pushes took us into the woods where a bermed pump track provided another few hundred feet of fun. This reminded me of a tight east coast ski out :) We zipped by some fellow skiers, then some snowshoe-ers and a mountain refuge. The snow corned up nicely as we descended and luckily didn't get too thin, though spring conditions definitely abound and one must be careful of snow sharks.

Finally we exit the woods and pop out onto...a bunny hill? There is a small carpet lift and some props for kids to learn to ski. We rip our last few turns and end up at a lovely outdoor bar on the snow. We are at the village of Le Buet, and we find a few chairs to grab a seat after a lovely tour. We have a trio of Grimbergen beers and kick back in the warm sunshine.

Refreshing!

Looking back up at the peaks from Hotel du Buet

After we get a nice buzz going, we decide to wrap up and catch the next train(!) back into town. The train goes directly from Le Buet to downtown Chamonix. Public transit is fucking awesome, and after 2 beers I can't shut up about it. I'm sure this annoys my non-American contemporaries but whatever. The train has racks specifically made to hold skis and is a comfortable quick and scenic ride into town.

In town, we head to another bar (Elevation 1904) where I meet up with Andi, my guide for tomorrow. By sheer coincedince, Andi and Ryan happen to know each other so we all hang out for a bit, catching up and planning for tomorrow. Andi initially expresses hesitation with my desire to ski steeps, since we haven't skied together before. Luckily Ryan vouches for my skiing abilities and we make a plan to tour from Le Tour tomorrow morning. Andi doesn't hang around too long (I get it, he's a paid guide and doesn't have to pretend to be my friend) and Nick and I head out soon after. We catch a bus from the bar directly back to the hostel (WOW!!!) and I decide to sauna and relax in a hammock to end a lovely day.  Chamonix has made an excellent first impression on me and I can't wait for more.

Back at the hostel

Turns All Year #22 (August '25) - Isabelle Glacier + Queen's Way

8/5 - Isabelle Glacier/Queen's Way

Between work trips, a wedding in VT, and squeezing in adventures where I can, summer has flown by! We're already in August, school starts in just a few weeks, and you know what that means - time for another ski adventure. I was able to line up one of my rest days after a weekend work trip with Anna, and we planned to ski wherever had snow. We wanted to plan for early August this year to avoid our mistake last year - we waited until late August to ski Andrews Glacier, at which point it had developed a large black ice section which made skiing the whole face unreasonable.

Anna found some good beta via Alltrails on Isabelle Glacier in the Indian Peaks, and it looked like the snow was bountiful for the skiing. We agreed on the plan, and luckily she was able to snag a last minute Long Lake parking res to save us the extra hiking from Brainard. Thank you Anna!!!

The day was forecasted to be bluebird and windy, with temps at Brainard around 75 degrees. Rusty from the summer ski break, I threw every layer I could think of in a bag (just in case) but ended up wearing shorts and a sun hoodie for the majority of the day. Anna and I met up around 5am at her place in Boulder and she drove us via Lee Hill to Brainard. We hadn't seen each other since our June day at A Basin (hot dogs!) and it was lovely to catch up and hear about her & Bill's Iceland bikepacking adventures.

As we exited Ward and entered the rec area, the sun lit up the sky a brilliant orange. It felt a bit like a premonition of a good day. We were the third car in the Long Lake lot at around 6am. We clicked boots into skis, strapped those skis onto our packs, and were off.

Anna pointing toward our objective and leading the charge!

The first half of the hike flew by - an easy, mostly flat 2.5 miles to Lake Isabelle. Although we are past peak wildflower season in the IP, we were still treated to sights of Indian Paintbrush, Mountain Bluebells, Alpine Buttercup, and Columbines. Somewhere between Lake Isabelle and the next smaller lake we lost the trail, foolishly following cairns across talus. On the way back we would find a much easier trail and chide our past selves for missing the turnoff, but we were clearly not the first to make this mistake. Using Peakfinder, we ID'ed Navajo and Apache peaks in the distance making up the cirque, and admired a set of perfect turns down the Navajo snowfield. Dear anon skier, if you're out there, nice work!

Talus hopping with skis on our backs. Lots of scratches followed by apologies to our skis.

The sun hid behind a tenacious wall of grey cloud, and we felt a mix of gratitude for the cooler air on the hike up and trepidation about the snow being too firm to ski. Luckily it broke through as we neared the glacier, and rapidly softened the snow to what felt like great corn. Visions of slushy turns entered my head as we transitioned to snow travel gear - me in ski boots + crampons, Anna in ski boots + microspikes (turns out they fit on ski boots, good to know!). Though it didn't look too impressive during the hike, as we got closer and the full glacier came into view we realized that we would have a legit ski run!

In addition to the glacier, we noted that the couloir that looked quite narrow from afar was actually less steep than the headwall and wide enough to reasonably climb/ski. Anna's boots+microspikes situation didn't inspire confidence and we decided that I would climb the couloir solo with her keeping me in view and ready with the Garmin. Later we would learn that this couloir is known as Queen's Way, a popular IP route that can even be skied from the summit of Apache in the right conditions.

Full view of the glacier, with Queen's Way trending up and looker's left.

Not wanting to waste too much of Anna's time, I shortened my poles and set about switchbacking my way up the couloir. The snow was the perfect firmness - supportive of my full body weight, yet soft enough to kick steps in. The large suncups, runnels, and interspersed rocks were a different story - but that was a problem for future me. As I climbed higher I suddenly realized how alone I was in the couloir. There were a few birds near the top for company, but otherwise I only had the sound of my heavy breathing and kicking of steps. Through the monotony, I had to remind myself to stay mentally sharp - one misstep could lead to a 1,000 foot uncontrolled slide with plenty of rocks along the way, and I didn't have an ice axe to self arrest. In addition the wind had picked up significantly - a few gusts almost knocked me off my feet, catching my skis like a sail.

Finally I reached the top of the snow, and luckily the angle eased off to make for an easy transition. The birds greeted me with screeches and I mouthed a silent apology for intruding. After a fluid intake+outtake and some sugar, I transitioned - careful not to let any of my gear slide down the couloir. I tapped my poles, let out a loud whoop to let Anna know I was good, and started skiing.

View from the top

Unfortunately, we were wrong about the corn snow. The huge suncups proved quite difficult, and between those and avoiding the rocks I had to make one turn at a time. It was not my most graceful skiing. However, it was in a beautiful setting with the bright blue glacial lake below and the towering rock walls all around. Skiing a couloir in August, who can complain!?

Near the bottom of the couloir Anna returned into view and I was able to link together a few turns (i.e. save face). I made my way down to where she was and we skied the rest of the glacier together. We decided to stop short of the blue lake to avoid a steep snow climb out, and made our way back onto the spit of talus. High fives were exchanged and a quick transition completed before we headed back down the trail. Even in August, it feels damn good to take ski boots off.

Me lookin back at it. Yeww!

Anna stylin' down the glacier

 

It was around noon thirty now, and hikers were filing up the trail. We got the usual mix of awed looks, comments on how crazy we were, and the one skier local who said "oh nice, I'll add it to my list for next year!" We noticed that these hikers did not look equipped to be hopping talus, and our suspicions were confirmed when we found the actual trail which sidestepped all the talus bs. We admired the twin towers that guard the peak of Shoshone, and mused about skiing the beautiful South facing couloir between them in a colder month (we couldn't find anything online about skiing this - if anyone knows otherwise please let me know!).

We reached Isabelle Lake under a bluebird sky and torching sun. I told Anna how Rachel had encouraged us to take the plunge in Bob Lake after Skyscraper last month, and it didn't take much convincing before we had thrown our packs down and were wading into the lake. The frigid water felt incredible on tired legs and my sweaty mug, and we even convinced some passing hikers to plunge as well! Loving this new ski -> dip tradition.

We made quick work of the rest of the hike, stopping only to let uphill hikers know that no, they were not close, and their 3 year old would probably not make it to the lake if they were crying a quarter mile from the TH (we didn't say this last part. But Anna pointed out how awesome it is that families bring their young kids into nature even though it presents significant challenges and I couldn't help but agree!)

We reached the parking lot and felt a bit like celebrities with other groups gawking at our skis and asking questions. My watch reported my elevation gain for the day at 4,996' (definitely inflated) so I dropped my pack and run up the trail to make up the last few feet. Happy with the even 5k, I changed into Tevas and a clean tanktop and we were on our way out. We stopped in Ward for cold sodas and local entertainment (wild mountain men smoking weed and playing chess, and roving dogs that seemed closer to wolves) before calling it a day. Let's see what September has in store!

Turns All Year #21 (July '25) - Skyscraper Glacier

7/5/25 - Skyscraper Glacier

TAY

Since moving to Colorado, I've become a bit obsessed with the idea of Turns All Year. That is, skiing every month of the year. I think my obsession first started from this YouTube video of Carl Zimmer while I lived in the Northeast and was just a fledgling skier. 

At the time, the notion of TAY filled my brain with words like "obsessive", "insane", and "absurd". I can happily report that I now fall into all three categories :)

Since starting summer skiing last year (June '24), I've been absolutely hooked. My favorite adventures are those that are improbable, silly, and shared with similarly-minded friends. Summer skiing is perfect.

July '25

I made plans with Kyla and her friend Rachel to check out Skyscraper Glacier on Rollins Pass. We were delayed by a day due to weather - Kyla and I opted for a trail run to Dorothy Lakes instead (4th of July TH on the 4th!). Luckily everyone was available the next day and with blue skies we quested up the treacherous pass road in my Rav4.

Halfway through the drive, my TPMS light came on. I gave the tires a quick visual check and all looked well, so we shrugged it off and kept going. On the last stretch, with the parking lot in sight 1/2 a mile away, the light started flashing. I pulled over and discovered a completely flat front right tire. Dammit. We got out the jack and wrench, except we couldn't find the wrench anywhere in my car. Dammit! Knowing that it was a weekend and this was a relatively popular spot, we posted up waiting for a passerby to lend us a wrench. Shoutout to the Rivian bros for letting us borrow theirs. With that, we were on our way after an hour and change delay.

Not a bad backdrop for a tire change :)

We strapped our skis onto our packs and set off. There were a handful of other summer skiers out with us and we exchanged knowing grins at the parking lot. Those who get it, get it.

Rachel powered up the switchbacks, leaving me sucking air trying to keep up. Rollins Pass sits at 11,660' and the relative flatland of Boulder does not keep one prepared. I adjusted my pack, took a deep breath, and charged on up. It was only about 600' up and 2.5 miles to the top of the glacier, suck it up Huzi. We passed by the snowfield I had accidentally dropped into last year on my solo July day. Up on the ridge, the wildflowers were incredible. Fields of yellow, pink, and purple stretched forward, complimenting the bluebird sky and windless day. It was shaping up to be primo summer ski condies.

Finally we reached the top of the glacier. Man, this thing was STEEP. At first I thought we were accidentally on Challenger Glacier but nope, this was the one. I was the only one foolhardy enough to still be interested in skiing the line. We planned for me to drop in first, then Kyla and Rachel would hike around the steepest bit where they could transition and drop in a bit lower.

After a sip of water and a snack, I bid farewell and made my last rites. Now stuck with just the doubts racing through my head, I approached the glacier. It looked even steeper in person, but there was a faint line where someone had traversed in across the ~50 degree bit before making their turns. I planned to follow suit.

I climbed off the rock onto the snow, about 30 feet skiers left of my planned transition point. The snow was solid, but disconnected from the rock by a few feet. Images of the whole shelf collapsing, taking me with it, ran through my head. Still in my trail runners, I slowly and tediously traversed the skinny snow step. I leaned uphill so that if I were to slip, hopefully I wouldn't be going for a long unintentional glissade. 

 Not suuuper confidence inspiring...

I rounded a corner and was on top of my line. Rachel and Kyla came into view and I gave them a wave, feigning confidence. Hopefully my harrowing traverse experience wasn't evident from my posture and expression. A bit rusty from several weeks off, I carefully transitioned out of my TRunners and clicked into my skis. Click click. Go time.

The first step was to actually get into the snowfield. I had to traverse from my safe haven shelf across the 50 degree crux. The snow dropped out from below so that I couldn't see where I was in relation to my intended line. I motioned up to Kyla and Rachel to confirm that I was in the right area, then tenuously inched my skis forward. This portion required the most focus - I had to dig my edges hard into the corn snow to prevent slipping down the crux. I felt Kyla and Rachel's eyes watching me, and probably a finger ready over an SOS Button on an Inreach.

After what felt like 10 minutes of inching forward, I was ready for my first turn. The mantra that somehow entered my head was "Confident skiing is good skiing". Despite this run being one of the steepest I've ever skied, I knew that charging the line was my best bet of not letting the line charge me. I arced a turn through perfect corn snow and let out a whoop, which was in turn responded by a whoop of relief from Kyla and Rachel. I continued down until the line met up with theirs, and posted up to wait. The adrenaline coursed through me like a wave and I tried to quell it with some water and goldfish.

Looking back at the run. Yewww!!

Rachel and Kyla picked their way down the hill around the glacier, transitioned, and skied down to me where we exchanged high fives. We party skied down to Bob Lake. The sky was radiant blue, the snow a perfect corn consistency, and we were past the crux of the day. Life is good!

We got to the shore of Bob Lake and Rachel was psyched on a cold plunge. We agreed that it was probably the coldest cold plunge any of us had ever done, with chunks of snow still hanging in the lake. But hey, we got to ski and cold plunge on the same day in July, can't complain.

The hike out was about 2.5 more miles, and we made quick work of it before heading back down Rollins/Berthoud to Empire for some chicken sandwiches and onion rings at the Dairy King. Psyched for August!!!