England. Switzerland. France. And back again. Our European ski holiday in Chamonix was spectacular. A picturesque ski village tucked in the Alps. The sheer grandeur of the mountains is indescribable. The pictures are stunning but don’t show the scale. It was every bit a postcard.
The ski map of the area was laid out like Disney World and we had access to ski at multiple mountains.
Ski conditions on our first day were bright, sunny and serene. Perfect. The views of the surrounding mountains were epic. There were professional skiers mountaineering off piste to the mountain tops, then skiing down making perfect patterns in the snow. It was like an advert for Patagonia. We paused for lunch, complete with big beers on the cafe deck. I have not felt the sun in months, and it was beyond rejuvenating. Kisses vitamin D.
The following ski days did not disappoint, but we had clouds and snow. If not for that first sunny day, we would have completely missed the views. We got lucky.
I was total crap awful on the first run of the day, and Andrew and his dad were pretty worried that it would be a long few days. Fast forward a day and a few small bumps, I was becoming a beginner skier. Yes, I should have taken lessons but I saved money and bought some ridiculous Sorel’s instead. Priorities people. Plus, if I actually shut up and listened, Andrew was a wonderful coach.
By the last day, I was skiing in powder doing advanced paths — we’re talking Reds. That was wicked. Thank you YouTube ski instructor.
I’ll miss my morning croissant, coffee and Cocoa Krispies, and my evenings of cheap-good French wine in a hot tub.
Merci, Chamonix! x
Across the Pond 