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