Geneva, Switzerland

(Geneva, Switzerland)

I had less than 24 hours in Geneva before returning to Canada: just enough to re-familiarize myself with this famous but not-actually-very-big city at the southwestern tip of Switzerland.

Rue de l’Hôtel-de-Ville, in Geneva

Geneva is primarily a “government” town, as the European base of the United Nations and many other international agencies. Just like Ottawa and other capitals, it can be prohibitively expensive…but also relatively uncrowded on weekends. I was able to take advantage of a half-price offer and stay in a very nice hotel that would otherwise be way out of my price range. It overlooked the Rhone River – the photo at the very top of this post was taken from my window! And they even threw in a free transit pass!

Fruit vendor in Geneva’s old town

As other aspects of downtown Geneva remained quite expensive, I headed to Carouge, a “village” southwest of downtown that allegedly had an Italian feel. It did indeed feel like a small but prosperous Italian town, so I treated myself to a delicious gelato outdoors on the Place du Marché…even though it was still early March.

Place du Temple, in the village of Carouge (now part of Geneva, Switzerland)

Nearby, I spotted Geneva’s largest hockey arena, which is home to the strong Geneva Servette hockey club. They would have been in the Swiss National League playoffs that evening, so I checked if there might be any tickets available. Alas, as a precautionary measure, the playoffs had been postponed due to the COVID-19 situation that was beginning to take a serious foothold in Italy (but had not yet had any real impact on Switzerland).

Place de Longemalle, Geneva, Switzerland

This was the second cancellation I encountered. I had hoped to take a guided tour of the United Nations complex, but it too had just been closed as a precautionary measure. These were the only indications that very difficult times might lie ahead.

Rue de la Fontaine, Geneva

I spent much of my time exploring the city on foot. It is clearly a very prosperous place, and it sometimes felt like a French-speaking Zurich…just a bit smaller and scaled-down. If I found myself too far from my hotel, I would just hop on a tram.

Place du Bourg-de-Four, Geneva, Switzerland

Having just spent two weeks in the mountains, I decided that I didn’t want to eat “local” for my last meal in Europe. Noticing a significant number of Ethiopian restaurants, and not having this kind of cuisine back home in Kingston, I decided to visit the Nyala Barka restaurant. It took me a while to get there, as my “tourist map” unfortunately took quite a few liberties with things like distance and direction (which are somewhat important for a map).

Reformation Wall in Bastions Park, Geneva, Switzerland

Anyway, I eventually arrived and enjoyed a very tasty “vegetarian platter” at Nyala Barka. As always, I enjoyed eating with my hands and using the underlying injera bread to scoop up the food. I was the first customer of the evening, as locals seem to follow the France model and have their dinners considerably later than in German-speaking Switzerland. I didn’t mind: I needed to properly pack and get a good night’s sleep before my long journey back to Canada.

My dinner at the Restaurant Nyala Barka (Geneva, Switzerland)

[Shortly after I returned home, the COVID-19 pandemic exploded globally and the world became a much different place. I ultimately decided to post this entry more or less “as written” two weeks ago.]

France 2020 – the final chapter

(Morzine, France)

Usually, the sixth day of skiing in a resort involves revisiting the highlights of the previous five days of skiing. However, due to the massive size of the Portes du Soleil region, we found ourselves in a completely new area on our last day.

A brilliant day above Les Crosets, Switzerland

Before this trip, I had never heard of Châtel, France. But it hosts a fairly extensive set of slopes radiating out in all directions from the town itself. The snow was excellent and we even made it into Switzerland again briefly: one of the lifts starts in France and ends in Switzerland. When you ski down, however, you soon find yourself back in France.

Turn left for everything, above Champoussin (Switzerland)

Of course, drama is the theme of this year’s trip…so it was only fitting that we had some more of it during our last day of skiing. This time, a power outage knocked out 4 lifts which we had just taken…and these were 4 lifts that we needed to get back to Morzine! We had to take 2 “navettes” in order to get around the blockage: on the second one, there must have been 100 people on the bus. We were wedged in like rush-hour commuters, with people falling onto each other whenever the bus went around a bend (which was a lot…these are the Alps!). Everybody was in a panic because they were afraid that they wouldn’t make it back before the rest of the lifts closed too.

Goulash in a bread bowl, at Champoussin (Switzerland)

Anyway, it worked out in the end and we had a very nice lunch at Le Blattin. This is a mountain hut high above Châtel that epitomized “cozy”. I would love to share some pictures of it, but my camera got soaked in the previous day’s rain and wasn’t working. Click here to see a picture that somebody else took.

Near Champoussin, Switzerland

In fact, I couldn’t take any pictures until the very end of the day. As the terrain and “vibe” was similar, I’m including some more pictures from Portes du Soleil Day 4 instead.

Near the Swiss border at Avoriaz (France), some skiers contemplate their next move

I continued skiing until 5:15 p.m. on the last day, and then caught a bus back to Morzine from the hamlet of Ardent. As the day slipped away, I passed the usual milestones: the last mountain lunch, the last lift, the last piste, the last turn…until I finally had to pop out of my bindings and admit that the skiing portion of my holiday was over.

Just inside the Swiss border, near Pointe des Mossettes

The Portes du Soleil region is massive. I didn’t get to the areas that were not lift-connected, and I didn’t really get to Mont-Chery, the slopes north and east of Châtel, the slopes north of Morgins, the slopes south of Avoriaz, or some of the slopes above Champery. That might look like a lot, but it pales in comparison to what we did actually see.

Les Lindarets, France, the “Village des Chèvres”

Overall, Portes du Soleil gets a passing grade, with bonus marks for the extended lift hours and the unique international aspect of the slopes. If I return here some day, I think I will base myself in one of the Swiss villages and focus on the Châtel and Swiss slopes. They were less busy and also felt more “authentic”, especially on the Swiss side. There was little or no purpose-built mass development, as we saw in Avoriaz (France). It was mayhem passing through the Avoriaz slopes during the late afternoon “rush hour”!

While the skiing part of my trip is now complete, I still have a brief stay in Geneva coming up. Stay tuned!

Alpine highs and lows

(Morzine, France)

Our fourth and fifth days of skiing in Morzine could not have been more different. Day 4 was our second attempt to ski from France to Switzerland. Unlike our first attempt, we did not lose any gear along the way…and the weather was brilliant. At the border on Pointe des Mossettes, we could actually see a sign welcoming us to Switzerland.  What a difference two days can make!

Admiring the scenery between Pointe des Mossettes and Morgins, Switzerland

We then took a long meandering piste, traversing both exposed Alpine slopes and cozy cliffside forests, all the way down to the Swiss village of Morgins. With a vertical drop of nearly 1000 m, but a very gentle slope, the piste seemed to go on forever. We didn’t mind: the mountains seemed much more rugged and awe-inspiring on the Swiss side of the border. 

I took this photo at the end of the piste in Morgins, Switzerland

The slopes at Morgins, Champoussin, and Les Crosets were also virtually deserted. It was almost perfect: fresh snow, temperatures right around 0’C, blazing sun…we were happy to stay for lunch in Champoussin and plan our next move.

The “Dents du Midi” rise above Champoussin, Switzerland

We decided to take a closer look at the “Swiss Wall” (see photo at the very top of this post). This is a notorious piste, probably the steepest and most difficult marked piste in Europe (if not the world). Heavily mogulled, it also has a slope of 90% in places. It didn’t look too bad when I faced it, but when I looked down on it from the chair lift…that old survival gene kicked in. This would be a test of nerves, not elegance. Ultimately, I didn’t think 3:30 p.m., after a heavy goulash lunch, was the best time to attempt the most difficult piste I’ve ever seen. After taking a few pictures, we retreated from the Swiss Wall and re-entered France. We returned to Morzine quite tired but very happy with our international ski safari.

The Swiss Wall, seen from below

The 5th day was another story. It rained for 24 hours straight. And not just a light drizzle: most of that 24-hour period could be fairly described as “pouring”. I took no pictures, because it would have been pointless. We did go skiing, trying to escape the incessant rain in Morzine. While the rain did indeed turn to snow at about 1700 m elevation, it was accompanied by howling winds and whiteout conditions. And then the lifts started closing. We took a rare mid-morning break, and an extended lunch, in an attempt to dry out a bit.

Just above Morgins, Switzerland

The day ended with my mitts literally disintegrating in my bathroom sink. Everything was drenched, and I have no idea what will dry out enough to be usable tomorrow. My mitts were so structurally compromised that I went out and bought new ones just before the shops closed. Not my proudest consumer moment, but I really had no choice if I wanted to participate in the final day of skiing.

Approaching Les Crosets, Switzerland

For obvious reasons, all of today’s pictures are from the much more photogenic 4th day of skiing in France and Switzerland.

Strange events on the slopes in Les Portes Du Soleil

(Morzine, France)

I just completed two of the strangest days of skiing I’ve ever had. They are forever linked by a massive blizzard…the 4th one I’ve experienced in a six-day period.

Ludicrous snowfall in Les Lindarets, France

On Monday, our goal was to ski to (and in) Switzerland. This involved several lifts and pistes, passing through the high alpine resort of Avoriaz, before finally disembarking from the Mossette chairlift above the Swiss village of Les Crosets. It seemed simple enough, and it didn’t take too much more than an hour.

Several hours later, the blizzard continues on the pistes near Les Lindarets, France

Alas, we had some challenges. One skier’s backpack somehow became unzipped while on the Mossette lift, and he lost both his spare jacket and his spare gloves in the desolate border region far below. After getting off the lift, we immediately returned to France from Switzerland. A simple plan to meet again (after a search for the missing items) went laughably wrong, as the Mossette lift was then closed due to sudden high winds and blizzard-like conditions. We had to take 3 lifts to get back to where we once were, and the visibility was rapidly deteriorating.

Top of the slopes on “La Rosta”

Never mind the appealing novelty of skiing in Switzerland for a few hours…we couldn’t see anything above the treeline, and we ran the risk that the rest of the cross-border lifts would also close and leave us stranded. We were forced to retreat to lower altitudes, away from the Swiss border, and close to the French village of Ardent. The pistes were drowning in wet snow. I actually love those kinds of conditions, but it is very hard work to slice through such voluminous and soggy snow. We had lunch in a very picturesque hamlet above Ardent called Les Lindarets, also known as the “Village des Chèvres” (“village of goats”). We had to ski down the main “street” to select an appropriate restaurant.

Me and my friend, the skiing “Milka” cow

After lunch (see photo of Les Lindarets above), there must have been an additional foot of snow. It was impossible to figure out where our skis where, as so much snow had fallen on them. It was pouring snow, forming outrageous patterns on our helmets and jackets. With temperatures hovering around 0’C, the snow soon turned to water on our ski outfits. I’ve never been so wet after skiing in such an intense blizzard.

Another view of the “Milka” cow, at the “La Rosta” peak near Les Gets, France

The next day, we awoke to an obscene amount of new snow. While some pistes were groomed, many weren’t. So we encountered dramatic off-piste conditions, except that we were still mostly skiing on-piste. Skiing through such deep snow can be exhausting. You can’t just slide or coast: you need to constantly keep your ski tips up to avoid face-planting, and you essentially need to “jump” from turn to turn to avoid getting stuck (or, again, doing a face-plant). It’s great fun, but you cannot let your guard down for even a second. And many of the pistes above Les Gets are very long.

We had lunch at this mountain restaurant, just above Les Gets

As noon approached, we had our most challenging runs of the day. The Myrtilles piste on Pointe de la Turche was ungroomed and had about 3-4 feet of new, loose snow on top of it. It also was rated as a black piste…in a country where very, very few pistes attract the black (meaning “very difficult”) rating. It was steep and unpredictable, even without 3-4 feet of new, loose snow on top of the existing base. See the “cover” photo at the top of this post for a photo taken near the top. Looking at it now, I can’t believe we went down twice. Once again: we were completely exhausted, but with a sense of real accomplishment.

And this is what I had for lunch: Tartiflette (cheese, potatoes, cream, bacon)

After such a draining experience, it came as no surprise that a skiing purple cow was waiting for us at the top of the neighbouring La Rosta peak. I posed for a photo (during which cow repeatedly and loudly mooed), and was rewarded with a handful of “Milka” chocolates. Apparently, Milka’s mascot is a purple cow. And this cow skis, albeit not that well. It has a very big head, which may impact “her” skiing ability. Still, I am impressed that a cow can ski at all. I then got my daily alpine cheese fix with a delicious “tartiflette” for lunch.

Our hotel in Morzine, France

The last skiing shock of the day came at the absurdly late hour of 5:29 p.m., when we were able to board the local gondola and ski one final time down to Morzine. I’ve never been on such a late daytime lift…and we had started the day before 9:00 a.m. We had the piste to ourselves: we could watch the sun begin to set while we were still on the slopes.

I don’t think anything can surprise me now. But we still have three more days of skiing…who knows what still lies ahead?

Moving on to the slopes in Morzine, France

(Morzine, France)

While I enjoyed the tranquility of Les Diablerets, it was time to move on to Morzine, France. It’s not far: maybe only 60 km if you could walk. But you can’t. And, in the winter, most of the mountain passes are closed to traffic. As a result, our train and shuttle bus journey took nearly 6 hours (with an hour stopover in Geneva).

Rösti with goat cheese, at the Auberge de la Poste in Les Diablerets, Switzerland 

There are worse ways to spend half a day. We began with a very scenic ride on the quaint mountain railroad between Les Diablerets and Aigle. We then followed the entire north shore of Lake Geneva, with its great views of the French Alps, to get to Geneva itself. Finally, we circled back on the south side of Lake Geneva and turned onto the claustrophobic narrow valley that leads to Morzine.

The castle at Aigle, Switzerland (a.k.a. le château d’Aigle)

Our first impression of Morzine was not very good. The rain was pouring down and there were quite a few brown patches visible on the slopes immediately above the town. It looked like a lot of skiers were ending their day early. It sure didn’t look like a whole lot of fun. Especially when I had to do some laundry in a dimly lit and odd-smelling laundromat.

Morzine, France, as seen from the top of the Pointe de Nyon piste

Of course, rain at the lower elevations often means snow at the higher ones. And the relentless rain evolved into brilliant sunshine by the morning. There was even some fresh snow! The photo at the top of this post was taken at the start of our very first run (from the top of the Pleney lift).

Lake Geneva in the distance, as seen from the top of Chamossiere

Morzine is just one of the 13 villages that make up the “Portes du Soleil” ski region shared by Switzerland and France. You can ski across the border at a number of locations. It is one of the two largest ski regions in the world: there are about 200 lifts, and more than 650 km of pistes!

Essentially the same view, but photobombed by a Dutch skier

Our first day was devoted to the pistes near Morzine. My favourites were those on Chamossiere and Pointe de Nyon, where there was still a significant amount of loose snow. By the end of the day, the weather had changed to a blizzard…but, once again, that’s not a bad thing if it clears up by the morning.

Everybody has their cameras out at Chamossiere

With no lift lines to speak of (on a weekend!) and a huge range of skiing options, Morzine and the Portes du Soleil are steadily improving on that iffy first impression. Stay tuned to see the final verdict, as we venture further afield!