Boston and Back - French Connection: Arrivals

Words and photos by Ian Reynolds l STE Contributing Editor

There are certain pinnacles in the ski world, places that are on every skiers bucket list.  Alta, Baker, Jay Peak here in the east, heli skiing in AK, and of course those destinations across the sea.  Places like Japan, Switzerland, and of course Chamonix, France.  In the season of 11-12, while most of North America suffered a drought, Chamonix was not only getting pummeled with snow, but I got the chance to hop a flight, and cross one off of my bucket list. 

Having traveled domestically for ski trips many times in the past, preparing for this trip felt like any other.  Gear checklists, 3 bags, balancing weight so not to brake the 50 pound limit, wrapping the skis in clothing, were all part of the routine as per usual.  This trip however had a different vibe altogether.  I was traveling to the backcountry skiing mecca, where freeskiing was born.  I was headed into a culture that revolved around the mountains that it so quietly sat beneath for hundreds of years. 

Skiing isn't just a sport in Chamonix, its a way of life.  Different from North American resorts, the villages that surround Chamonix, and Mont Blanc are dripping with authentic ski culture, from building side murals to the multiple trams departing from the center of town.  The feeling isn't fabricated by the property developers looking to turn a profit; rather they are sculpted by hundreds of years of mountaineers hidden deep in the mountains simply living their lives.  

Getting into the airport in Boston, the reality of my trip began setting in, the pre-flight anxiety kicked up a notch and quick, repetitive checks for my passport and boarding pass confirmed the reality of my international adventure.  From Boston to London, London on to Switzerland, then a short van ride into the mountains of France, and our destination for the week, Les Houches a small village to the east of Chamonix, at the base of Mont Blanc. 

While in France for a ski vacation, it becomes quite clear when entering into the valley, that skiing is only a small part of the overall experience.  The rich history of mountaineering captures you from the moment you board your first lift, enter your first bar, and get your first helping of fondue.  From World Cup downhill races, to the Swatch freeskiing world tour, the town opens its doors to the greater ski world, and holds history unmatched by any North American resorts.

While cloud cover plagued our first few days in the valley, the reality of the shear magnitude of the mountains revealed itself, much like flipping to the center of a Maxim magazine, to find the center spread of your favorite celebrity, in a bathing suit.  Nothing to hide, just shear beauty that seems almost intangible, fake, a rouse. It became clear how such an area drew such a focused segment of permanent residence.  

The excitement of being in the center of the ski world, during the best winter in years, with snow in the forecast is a feeling that can't be described.  There was excitement, anxiety, fear, adrenaline, a restless draw to get out, but a nervous energy holding you back.  Thoughts of those that came before, those that have lost their lives in the very mountains you are venturing into are very humbling and an experience that is rarely felt in the resorts and sidecountry throughout the US.  I reveled in the experience and took it all in, with a nice glass of wine no less.