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Hollie Bone reignites her love for skiing in the idyllic Avoriaz resort in France, where she crashed into her instructor, endured the mirth of a French toddler and fell head over heels for the pistes
A shire horse dragging a fur-clad sleigh pulls up beside me. The receptionist shouts: “Your transfer is here.”
She can see the bewildered look on my face and explains that Avoriaz is a car-free ski resort. Unless I want to lug my case through the snow, I’d best hop on. We trot past twinkling pine trees, along white thoroughfares between sugar-dusted buildings.
They’re not quite the glowing little chalets I’d imagined, but I’d already been warned that Avoriaz boasts an awe-inspiring angular approach to architecture, and these wooden towers stand tall on the mountain like a proud rock face that has defied erosion. The roadside where we left our enthusiastic French taxi driver no longer exists – we have entered another world.
This is Narnia or Arendelle – the possibilities feel endless. Perhaps I might even do a black run before the end of the week. Or perhaps not. I’ve thrown myself at the opportunity to do a beginners’ ski course – and courtesy of EcoSki equipment hire, I have all the gear but no idea.
Truth be told, I did ski once before, during a school trip to Vermont 10 years ago. Since then a return to the slopes has seldom been in my budget and I’ve normally prioritised escaping the cold. But as a snowboarder whooshes past, carving up the powder just in front of us, that adrenaline hit I felt all those years ago comes rushing back to me.
Before I can fulfil my need for speed it’s time to get sized up with skis and boots. This part I had forgotten. Once my feet are crushed correctly and to the satisfaction of our instructor, we begin our awkward shuffle towards the nursery slope. Just as I think I’m getting the hang of it, a dozen toddlers on mini-skis glide past me with ease, laughing and pointing at my snow plough.
I briefly contemplate arguing with the gaggle of four-year-olds before our instructor announces it’s lunch. Time to sample some of the other delights the French have to offer – wine and cheese, obviously. Katia Belmonte, the hotel manager of the Residence Electra where we are staying, joins us for dinner.
As she shakes off her coat and introduces herself I notice the glimmer in her eyes and an energy buzzing from her. It’s not just French passion, she also feels the childlike joy this magical place brings. Paris-born Katia left the city for a different life and vows “this is home now”. Why would she ever want to leave?
Although the official population of Avoriaz is 200, Katia believes the reality is closer to 80, half of whom are staff in the restaurants, shops and instructors on the slopes. “Everybody here loves the mountain, if you don’t, you can’t live here, because the mountain decides what you do,” she adds.
And it’s true. As I look out of the window I can feel the mountain pulling me back; I’m yearning to get out there and master another piste. By our second day the muscle memory is coming back to me, the skis are starting to turn in the general direction I’m asking them to, and I’m picking up speed.
Our swarthy French instructor, Stephane Jacquier, almost looks impressed… until I ski straight into him. “I charge extra for hugs” he warns as my group falls about laughing. It’s time to swap our salopettes for swimming costumes and head to the Avoriaz water park. The huge tropical trees bow over the pool which is fashioned into a desert island retreat from the snow.
Hundreds of kids clinging onto inflatables are rushing down the slides and squealing with laughter. Someone mentions an outdoor Jacuzzi and they’ve got my attention. It’s packed to the rafters with others who had the same idea, but watching the colourful skiers dangle above you on the chair lift as you simmer nicely in the bubbles is something special.
All I need to top this day off is a bottle of Gamay – the beautiful red we had last night. And as it happens, the local Carrefour stocks it at the bargain price of €5. I grab a glass and head to my hotel room balcony to enjoy it with a view. After a quick snooze and some time spent massaging my feet and shins we head off for another meal.
As we walk into this evening’s restaurant I’m immediately confident it is where I’d go if I was here with a special someone. The glowing lanterns and acoustic music make La Cabane a very intimate venue. But their Paris-Brest will have you questioning how inappropriate licking the plate really is.
As we wake up for our third and final day of skiing, Stephane is sure we’re ready for a blue run. With some nervous anticipation we catch two chair lifts to the peak and stop to look back at where we came from. “That over there is the main resort in Avoriaz, where we started and where your hotel is,” Stephane points.
I scrunch my eyes.. I can’t see a thing.
When the resort was opened in 1967 “it was made to hide among nature” he explains. I think back to the towering jagged wooden blocks and remember how I thought they looked like the rock of the mountain. Now I can just about make out our hotel if I really try.
Stephane goes on to say that before this resort was made, Avoriaz was dubbed ‘death country’ or ‘the end of the world’ by the French. The plans to create a ski resort were met with scepticism. Nearly 60 years on it’s often favoured over Morzine which has suffered with a serious lack of snowfall due to climate change.
We begin our descent down the most idyllic piste, winding past matchstick trees as the sun combats the cold breeze licking my face. Stephane says this beautiful slope is a popular route for the Tour de France when the snow retreats in summer.
As we bring our skis into a snow plough in the town of Lindaret to catch the chairlift back and say goodbye I can’t believe it’s time to go. In only three days I’m a skiing addict all over again. I want to refuse to leave and hand in my application to become a ski instructor.
On second thoughts I might need a few more lessons before I can do that, but one thing is for sure – I’ll be prioritising a ski trip with my holiday budget from now on.
Book the holiday
- EasyJet flies from Gatwick to Geneva starting at £21.99 one-way; Liverpool to Geneva from £18.99. easyjet.com
- Pierre & Vacances offers seven nights’ self-catering at the Residence Électra in Avoriaz (sleeps up to four) from around £994 during the 2023/24 ski season. Flights and transfers extra. pierreetvacances.com
- Adult six-day pass for Portes du Soleil is priced from around £278. skipass-avoriaz.com/en
- Adult six-day ski hire from around £93. antoine-ski.fr/
- Adult six-day beginner ski lessons, mornings only, with ESF from around £177pp. ski-school-avoriaz.co.uk
- More info at avoriaz.com
