During our stay in Essert Romand we have been visiting other ski areas. In hindsight we possibly should have visited more but the Portes du Soleil area is so suited to us. At our level of skiing, especially as we have had excellent snow, it almost felt as if we had ‘lost’ a day when we weren’t on the slopes.
Our first major excursion was to Chamonix. Nestling under the largest mountain in Europe, the village is large and purpose built, but although the sight of Mont Blanc is truly ‘awesome’, it leaves the town in a dark shadow. We decided to head for the south facing slopes and catch some sun so we headed for the Planprez cable car, recommended in the guide book. It was well signposted until we hit the centre of town but then, as often seems to happen in France, it seemed to disappear. We ended up well outside the town and stumbled onto the Flegere cable car which the guide book had described as “inadequate”, but Male Old GIT (MOG) didn’t care for it was the spitting image of the cable car used in ‘Where eagles dare’, and he had to be on it. We then found out that if we had asked for a ticket when we had bought our seasonaire passes we could have a day pass for €1…as it was we had to pay €66 for an afternoon! Robbing b*****ds.
We scrambled into the cable car with Female Old Git (FOG) looking bemused as I kept humming the theme tune to this famous film and couldn’t help muttering, in my best Richard Burton voice; “Danny Boy to Broadsword, do you read me, over.” FOG’s look turned more to concern…maybe the altitude had started to affect the old buzzard.
The slopes were bathed in sun but the pistes were very scratchy and to our dismay this wasn’t ice but stones and rocks peeping through the snow.
Our first major excursion was to Chamonix. Nestling under the largest mountain in Europe, the village is large and purpose built, but although the sight of Mont Blanc is truly ‘awesome’, it leaves the town in a dark shadow. We decided to head for the south facing slopes and catch some sun so we headed for the Planprez cable car, recommended in the guide book. It was well signposted until we hit the centre of town but then, as often seems to happen in France, it seemed to disappear. We ended up well outside the town and stumbled onto the Flegere cable car which the guide book had described as “inadequate”, but Male Old GIT (MOG) didn’t care for it was the spitting image of the cable car used in ‘Where eagles dare’, and he had to be on it. We then found out that if we had asked for a ticket when we had bought our seasonaire passes we could have a day pass for €1…as it was we had to pay €66 for an afternoon! Robbing b*****ds.
We scrambled into the cable car with Female Old Git (FOG) looking bemused as I kept humming the theme tune to this famous film and couldn’t help muttering, in my best Richard Burton voice; “Danny Boy to Broadsword, do you read me, over.” FOG’s look turned more to concern…maybe the altitude had started to affect the old buzzard.
The slopes were bathed in sun but the pistes were very scratchy and to our dismay this wasn’t ice but stones and rocks peeping through the snow.
FOG with Mont Blanc behind.
We persevered but finally we succumbed to using the piste map where we discovered we could move onto another ski area via a cable car (Liason), which ran horizontally across the mountain. This meant attempting a very nasty looking red, steep and narrow, but as our confidence was high we bravely skied forth. The first half of the piste really challenged us but then it opened out into a wide valley with a breathtaking view of Mont Blanc and Chamonix. Pulling over to absorb the ‘buona vista’ we suddenly realised we were the only people on this vast piste…the silence was almost deafening! Our confidence started to waver as we asked ourselves why we were the only people here; surely there must be a reason. To our relief a small party of youngsters suddenly spilled over the top ridge; it has been the only time I have welcomed the sight of snowboarders!
MOG with the steep ‘red’ behind him!
We arrived at where the Liason Cable Car should have been only to be greeted by two concrete plinths and a pile of rusting gantry metal work. Gulp; the only way back was down the mountain on what was described as a challenging black for experts…fortunately with the aide of reading glasses, (it’s not that we need them it is the very small print…honestly!), we did manage to find a chair lift not too far away.
On the last run back down to the cable car over confidence was evident and resulted in skiing at too fast a speed; well above MOG’s ability. He hit an unseen path and MOG, his skis and terra firma were not as one; he was truly airborne. Just over the lip were several yellow and black hazard poles warning skiers about bare rocks below. MOG landed on the hazard fair and square, sending skis, poles and most anything else that was loose in all directions. MOG continued his journey down the piste, on his back and head first, for over 100 metres. FOG, who had completely missed the spectacle of skiing and aerobatics, stood on the piste muttering as to where the old git had gone. Then she spied his poles and saw the familiar figure, and of course the pom pom noir, in the distance below her, staggering to his feet tottering like a drunk late on a Friday night. A Dutchman, who was still supporting a broad smile, brought over one ski and an 8 year old girl, who couldn’t control her giggles, found the other. We slowly descended to the cable car where MOG still attempted more Richard Burton impersonations. We returned home, after a well earned drink in the quiet and almost deserted village of Les Houches, 3 kilometres from Chamonix.
Megeve was an entirely different prospect. It had a ring of Les Gets about it with a similar open aspect, but this is a place for the very wealthy, and I mean very wealthy. Struggling once again to find the original cable car we were looking for in the centre of town, we followed a ski bus and ended up at Mont D’Arbois cable car, which was quite a way up the mountain. It did however allow us, or more accurately, allow FOG to nosy at the exquisite chalets, standing proudly for all to see. One however was owned by someone who valued their privacy and actually had its own cable car to the chalet. Now that is how to keep ahead of the Jones! I can hear it now over the après-ski; “Oh, you have a chalet here do you. How do you find the maintenance of the cable car? What, you don’t have your own cable car…oh, how strange…”
Utilising our free ski passes, we had now obtained the correct tickets; we skied all afternoon for next to nothing. The slopes weren’t challenging but very enjoyable and we skied both Mont d’Arbois and Mont Joux areas in style with not so much of a skid from MOG.
FOG on the Megeve slopes; once again stunning views.
Descending into this quaint and charming town for our après ski, we found horse and traps for the tourists, and several streets stuffed with shops you would be more likely to encounter in the centre of Milan or Paris. We found a crêperie, ‘hidden’ down a small alleyway in the centre of town and despite the excellent service paid over £20 for two beers and crepes; then to top it all the waiter made an error with the change…, he’s not getting a mention on the ‘Facts-Old Gits Gap Year’ Blog!
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