Mountain Flavours - A Week in the Alps, Val Thorens

From dawn coffee experiments to mountain restaurant navigation. A tale of morning brews, €15 soups, the ebb and flow of a winter holiday and the hope of a powder day.

Saturday - Day 1 - Travel Day

Staying at the local Premier Inn close to Newcastle Airport, we woke at 5 am to make an early flight. Despite being in different rooms, I fall out with the boy within 5 or 10 minutes of waking - the need for another pair of pants, which have obviously been packed with military precision! My brain and the ‘make sure you have everything you need for the first night’ is in a state of lockdown, and I need to let it go. The hotel, a 5-minute walk from the airport, gives us time to clear the air by the time we make the check-in queue. It's quiet, and despite being 15th or so, it takes us a full hour to get through to security. The joy of ski bags being weighed and checked in.

The eateries are busy and ready to take our money at most times of the day, feels even more so for the weary breakfaster. We bring our own muesli mix, find a pint of milk and a yoghurt, and make our not-so-overnight oats. With two empty flasks and the largest americano we can find, we split the coffee between them.

The plane runs to time, and I hear my father-in-law whispering in my ear, pleased about getting the early flight. Always keen not to miss its slot so as to keep to time throughout the day, and given we are headed to Geneva on a changeover day, there might be carnage.

We make good time up the mountain, and very pleased with the accommodation. The three of us in a four person apartment is going to work well. We surrender the master bedroom with the mountain views for the chance at two separate beds, undisturbed sleep and the en-suite.

Sunday - Day 2

A reasonable 7:30 alarm and good night's sleep, though I can feel a conversation about mattresses in our future when we get home!

The hunt for coffee begins. I'm used to finding a filter coffee machine in these apartments, but in their space-saving wisdom, they've provided a Nespresso machine with 10 pods! Not even a week’s worth! I've never taken to the taste. My grand plan to use the teapot with my brought-from-home filter papers ends in calamity.

The bottom giving way completely, with a brown slop means I revert to the pods. The result a half a cup of something, topped up with a little hot water to make it go a little further. It's disappointing and there's just something about them that doesn't taste right, I'd even prefer instant.

Piste Basher - Plein Sud run

Through the apartment window, a piste basher rumbles past as the resort comes to life, the sunrise creating silhouettes over the hilltops. An exciting day lies ahead.

The first-morning routine is slow, everything still finding its place - gloves, sunblock, glove inners, helmet, lift pass, picnic, yesterday's egg sandwiches. Then the first ski boot battle of the day, bending my ankle like a contortionist, only to realize I hadn't undone a strap properly.

The resort Val Thorens, part of the three valleys sprawls vast before us. So much choice. The first moves need planning. The initial run from the hotel proves icy, and my hire skis feel like an untamed horse, wanting to cut their own groove with an unfamiliar arc. We take the Plein Sud, a gentle blue, orienting ourselves and mentally marking the route home.

We have friends here, my brother-in-law's ski gang scattered across different accommodations, all established skiers, including a group of elderly teenage boys with my son included. WhatsApp pings constantly, but my wife and I seek mountain solitude, a chance to find our ski legs. The introverts in us coming to the fore. We stick to our own agenda of following the empty queues, and easy runs to get going.

My son, always eager to lead, takes a wrong turn. In his new dark jacket and at 18, he's harder to spot, but it's time to let him find his own groove. News that he's found his cousin and the gang lets us relax and turn our attention to hot chocolate or early lunch hunting.

Our first attempt at lunch brings us to a table service affair that’s not quite right, but the hot chocolate hits the spot. A few runs later, we discover Bar 360, a proper mountain hub, music pumping out, posh at the top with a live singer, riff-raff below, the dance tunes blaring out. After getting short shrift from a waiter, we find the self-service section. Goulash for me, vegetable soup for my wife - €15 each. Ouch!

Then comes one of those "of all the places in the world" kind of moments. Missing one packed cable car, a sliding doors moment, leads us to the next, and three minutes into the journey, a familiar voice behind us, the dulcet tones of my brother-in-law. Something in the universe is at play. Our paths crossed without a plan, no arrangements necessary, no waiting about it just happened. We spend the afternoon with my younger nephew, brother-in-law, and spouse.

Gentle blues and sunshine carry us through. We cover more ground than planned and stay out longer as a consequence. By day's end, every muscle aches, but in that satisfying way that marks a proper day on the mountain.

Monday, Coffee Chronicles - Day 3

Teapot - Coffee Machine!

The Coffee Chronicles, begin, so disappointed with the nespresso I refuse to be defeated. I find a small sieve in the drawer and add it to filter paper, and tea pot contraption. It's slow, there is a little overflow, a bit of a mess! ....essentially though and the main thing, there is a decent cup of coffee for each of us at the end of it.

Monday and the sky is overcast and dull. The pull of the slopes is there, but at the same time, the muscles are a little sore from yesterday's big day. It's the kind of day that can't quite decide how it's going to be. Our plan is to just let the day unfold, taking each lift as it comes.

The cold bites through the three layers of gloves that I'm wearing, driving us early into Chalet de Carron for a chocolat chaud. Fruit cake brought from home provides a sugar boost we are craving and a respite from the chill. We note the self-service restaurant for later.

The journey to Les Menuires and back up via the Belvedere cable car rewards us with the day's best run - a red bathed in sunshine that allows us to cut loose from the defensive skiing that we'd been doing. On our return to Chalet de Carron for lunch, we become temporary guides, shepherding a stranded skier back to home turf after her friends had ditched her for more aggressive skiing.

Our return to Chalet de Carron is a good call. The soup's cheaper here, and paired with the last of our travel-day sandwiches and a side salad, it makes a satisfying meal.

After lunch, we venture up the valley. The visibility closes in, making each turn a challenge and so after a few demanding runs, we read the mountain's signals and disappointingly call it a day.

Tuesday - Day 4, group skiing begins.

Today was a 9:15 start at the plein sud chair lift. We were there about 9:07 and didn't leave till about 9:20. Queue was pretty busy by that time with a party of 9 to navigate up the hill.

It just felt like carnage from the off, Mont Vallon was the target with a few runs to get there Half (the young crew) went the off-piste route for the first Col. Probably the nicer option in terms of busyness. We took the safer option and It was just a bit too busy for me. That and there were new folks to watch out for. The boys appeared with grins on their faces. One nosebleed (which we didn't find out about until later). Took the cable car up and then the red down. Again carnage. Perhaps it was the muscles just were not ready. I wasn't feeling it. Time for a hot chocolate and something sweet to go alongside (halva this time).

We broke away from the group, and just decided to go by ourselves. With the visibility the way it was, I'd have held folk up.

We ended up at the bottom of Les Menuires for lunch, a nondescript bar, English waitresses, burgers and chips. We were cold, and just in need of sustenance.

Wednesday - Day 5

Wednesday, The firmness of the mattress that was its novelty is now not feeling the luxury I thought it was. Tossing and turning last night. I'm sure someone knocked at the door and then something that felt like the bath creaking under the change in temperature, perhaps from the room above, but scared me as noises in the night are prone to do.

9.00 am start at the lift this morning so I'm up bleary-eyed with my coffee contraption. A double filter technique, and the brain wave of actually making it on the draining board!

The sky at this time in the morning is a marvel, the silhouettes of the hills. There's been a light dusting of snow and the piste bashers are on the case.

I'm wary of calling it a blue-sky day. We had a similar start to yesterday which turned really quickly into a painful white out and just as type up some notes a little more cloud seems to gather.

Big group today. 13 in the party, 7 of which are powder hounds. We split in the usual place as we head for Mont Vallon and then sadly we lose one of the broader party to a fall, which turns out to be a broken shoulder of some sort. It's a stark reminder that this is a dangerous activity.

As a result, my wife and I are now skiing in a group of four, I get to let go of the reins as a result and just get to follow someone who knows the area like the back of his hand. We cut through Meribel skiing through trees and taking the quiet lifts. By avoiding the busier routes we set the meeting place for lunch with the wider group and get that quintessential lunch in the sun. The egg sandwiches were long gone, no way I was having a burger. I tucked into a wonderful tartiflette. Regional cuisine at its best and covering my cheese quota for a month!

Thursday - Day 6

Thursday Morning, and the coffee technique is paying dividends. A little patience and I've managed to emulate the human filter coffee machine with a teapot, sieve and two filter papers with gusto, with barely any waste. It's snowing and hard to make out the buildings in the background let alone any sign of there being any hills out there. Little motivation for hitting the slopes today.

A slow start when we headed down to the boot room around 10. Not surprisingly it was fairly quiet, as were the slopes and lifts due to the visibility.

Surprisingly we found a few slopes that were gifted with sun in the Orelle area. Rather than move, we did a few repeat runs, kept to the same area and enjoyed the morning.

Lunch in the same ski area, another tartiflette and my wife had a salad, with deep-fried cheese. Then a few more runs and then we decided to enjoy the spa facilities, ease those aches and pains a little. Dinner we had round at my brother-in-laws accommodation.

7 round a table for 4, we ended up doing a split shift which coordinated with a meal for teenage boys and a meal for the adults. Noodles, and a couple of microwave meals. A tinned cassoulet and couscous for the adults. We'd brought chocolate and wine. The perfect way to catch up without fuss.

Friday - Day 7 - fresh snow

Snowday - anticipation, first lift of the day

Friday, and with it being a bad weather day the day before there was powder to be had. Gradually we whittled the start at the lift time over WhatsApp from 9:15...to 8:45. Which meant being a bit more surgical over breakfast.

Whilst we had breakfast we watched the cable car start, the turn of the steel cables shaking the overnight snow as it twisted and turned through its supporting wheels. With it, the hotel started cleaning the outside decks the ebb and flow of keeping the mountain hospitality going.

The boot room was busy with anticipation. We were down at the lift for 8:50, likewise the rest of the crew.

The queue at the chair had built up despite being early. The chair runs, but no one is allowed on until 9, at which point there is a lurch and being on skis there is nothing you can do but be swept along with it. Then a shuffle, and then .....whisked away and a moments pause, a bounce, the chair moves fast, the safety bar down and we are away.

Eight of us in the party, and there is no hanging about once we are at the top of the first lift. And I hear the mantra ‘no friends on a powder day’. The next lift awaits.

View from Mont Vallon

The next lift is barely 30 seconds away. The skiers want to get higher. The connecting lift start time is 9:15, it's 9:12. Then the lift doesn't start and a mad dash to the adjoining cable car. Too windy for the chair. There's upset and a Frenchman getting very angry with someone who is now ahead but was behind. It takes a while, it feels like 9:45 before we hit the first bit of real skiing. The powder hounds turn left and my wife and I take the safer pisted option. Agreeing to meet at the bottom of Mont Vallon. For the hounds just exploring this huge beast of a mountain is enough and we repeat the loop of going up the cable a few times whilst they take the different faces.

The pisted slopes were nice, not as busy as we thought they might be, the sides were full of powder and every now and then I'd dip out to see what the fuss was all about. The words candy cotton, silk and floating all come to mind. Although in places the leg muscles had to work hard to stay afloat. We'd get to the bottom a few minutes early before the elite team made it.

The powder hounds called lunch just after 12:15, ready for warmth as well as sustenance. We were not going to argue! Felt like the sun was only on our part of the mountain range so we took the closest restaurant and amazingly they had a table for 8 free. Teenagers at one end and the more mature at the other. Not the cheapest of restaurants we'd been in, but a good selection. Nearly went for the tartiflette. Three days on the trot didn't seem right, so I went for something similar. Croziflette, with a description of mushrooms, oh and cheese!

Served with a green and purple salad and zesty sweet dressing. A nice last lunch to end on. At this point, we agreed to break with the powder hounds. Their goal to cover more fresh tracks and ours to just have a few more relaxing runs before calling it a week didn't marry up. We said our goodbyes, except to our son, this would be the last time we'd see them until we got back to Scotland.

We'd not decided where we were heading yet, embarrassingly we took the same cable after a couple of minutes. The slope looked to be the only one in the sun and we weren't going to miss it by seeing the team again. We'd thought we'd left it long enough for them to have gone. They were still at the top! We shooed them away. Then for us, the next 20 minutes was pure torture, the sun had gone and along with it the visibility. Enough for us to call time, which meant an hour’s worth of defensive skiing to get back to base, and sadly the return of the skis, picnic supplies and packing.

Whilst packing the odd picture coming in from WhatsApp, My brother-in-law had finally made it to the folie douche, with the snow falling. Then later, big John with the teenage boys dancing on the table as the end of the week was brought to a close. We also got a video sent through, a rendition of ‘Like a Prayer’ by Madonna on a cable car.

The meal back at the apartment was takeaway quiche, the kind sold by weight rather than per slice. A spinach and goat’s cheese, and then a salmon. We both got a piece of each with a galette for the boy. Eating up the odds and ends, the salad items and emptying the fridge with military precision. The only item of excess was a sole natural yoghurt pot. Everything else was picnic fodder for the next day, or dry goods for home.

Saturday - The return

Moonscape View, waiting for the coach at 6:25 am

Saturday morning it's a 5 am start. Pick up at 6:25, so bleary eyed I make a Nespresso for the boss. I'd rather have a good coffee than a bad one, and don't like to kick my body off too early, hoping for a sleep on the coach. I repeat the process for the flasks. It's quicker than my teapot approach. Gradually we move around, in charge of our own pieces of final packing. Squeezing the last bits into a ski boot or two. It's dark as we wait for the coach, the moon almost full. We are sure it's going to be a blue sky day which adds to our sadness that we've come to the end of the holiday. The white in the distance is beautiful and I take a moment to just breathe in how lucky we've been.

Lake Annecy from the Coach

We are first on the coach, despite being the last hotel in the town, so going full circle we pass our place once again. Grateful to be first on, the pick of the seats and able to sit together. The winding turns of the mountain made it difficult to nod off. But suddenly I woke to one of our favourite places in the summer, Lake Annecy. The sun coming up and hitting the water. We follow the cycle path along which we have memories of in the glorious heat of the July months. The colour seems to be missing at this time of year, a place that truly winters. Despite this, we know we want to come back. Apparently I slept through a sickness incident, a young boy not being able to cope with the hairpins. We made great time to the airport.

The airport is busy, with no time to faff about. The week's memories already feel distant as we navigate the familiar routines of passport control and baggage claim. Our ski bag appears quickly on the oversized belt, a final stroke of luck. Being home is welcome, as is making it safe and sound. Quietly we all know we'll be back next year. The mountains have that effect.

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The next post will be a follow on, the self-catering angle, a few meals and the approach that saw us through.

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