La Folie and La Face - Skiing in the French Alps

I had been on skis maybe a half-dozen times in my life when our daughter Sydney started taking lessons. As it turned out, she fell in love with the sport, which prompted me to get out on the slopes at the ripe age of 55.

While my form leaves much to be desired, I’ve slowly gotten to a point where I can slide down most hills without falling on my face. And I’ve discovered that the best way to pass the long, dreary New England winter is to spend at least a few days a year in the mountains.

Fast forward to March of 2022, when we booked a ski trip with four other couples, as well as Sydney and one of her friends, to Val D’Isere in the French Alps.

To get there, you can fly into a handful of regional airports but the easiest connection from the US is probably Geneva, which is where we spent our first day. It was terrific, and if we ever go again I would definitely spend an extra day or two since there’s a lot more to see and do than one afternoon will allow.

From our hotel we walked along the Lake Geneva shoreline (now I have the song Smoke on the Water stuck in my head), which was lined with interesting sculptures, all by the same artist. This led to the old town, with shops, restaurants and cozy cafes whose tables spilled out onto the cobblestone streets. We had a tasty fondue lunch at a place called Les Armures, a traditional Swiss restaurant featuring local meats, cheeses and produce served in dining rooms that feel like a mountain chalet.

We strolled around after lunch to work off some of the calories but the young ones had other ideas, stopping at one of the many Swiss chocolate shops for steaming cups of hot cocoa and to sample the hand-made confections.

Whimsical sculpture on Lake Geneva

Brunswick Monument

Geneva street art

Next morning our shuttle service for the three-hour drive to the mountain arrived — right on time of course, this being Switzerland — and we were off to Val D’Isere. The town hosted various events during the 1992 Winter Olympics, including the Men’s Downhill which took place on La Face, an incredibly steep run on the front side of the mountain, overlooking the village rooftops. World championship ski competitions also happen regularly in Val D’Isere and Jean-Claude Killy, the three-time Olympic gold medalist, grew up there.

Our rented chalet was in La Daille, walking distance to the center of town and conveniently across the street from two lifts — the TC Daille gondola and the Funival funicular (like a miniature subway train that sped through a tunnel in the mountain). We took the Funival on our first ride up, emerging into a vast, treeless mountain playground. Everywhere you looked there was a seemingly endless variety of terrain, for experts and novices alike, with marked trails and plenty of opportunities for those who chose to venture off-piste.

We soon came to realize that we were looking at only a tiny corner of the region. If you refer to a trail map, Val D’Isere is connected through a network of lifts and trails to other villages on either side. All the way on the right is Tignes and far to the left is Le Fornet. In between are over 300km of marked terrain serviced by 90+ lifts.

We spent the first day just trying to get our bearings. On day-two we met the non-skiers for lunch at a place on the mountain called La Peau de Vache, which overlooked the imposing La Face run. From the outside the restaurant didn’t look like much, but inside it was a cozy refuge, lit by candelabras encrusted with what looked like decades of wax drippings. The effect was dramatic and I for one felt right at home and ready for a well-deserved lunch. At the end of the meal, the waitress asked if we’d like to try Genepi, a local liqueur made from mountain herbs and enjoyed as a digestif. Of course we accepted but in the back of my mind I knew I would soon be plunging down La Face — maybe a shot wasn’t such a good idea? But hey, I was in France and I’m not known for turning down an interesting and unique adult beverage.

After lunch the non-skiers descended on the lift and I was tempted to join them, but peer pressure prevailed. One by one we tipped our skis over the headwall of La Face. The others tackled it without any issue but I found the pitch difficult. I nervously picked my way down while the others patiently waited at the bottom…..for like, 20 minutes.

Well at least I made it without breaking my face….

The days that followed were a blur, with challenging but incredible skiing, fantastic dinners and great company with good friends. One highlight was the day we took the Perce-Neige funicular from Tignes-Val Claret up to the Grande Motte glacier. The run back down is six kilometers, weaving through a skier’s paradise of marked trails and un-groomed snowfields, steep drops and long, meandering highways of snow where you could take a minute to look around and enjoy the sensational views.

On another morning, after an overnight snowfall, it looked like someone had airbrushed the snow a faint shade of brown. At first I thought my goggles were playing tricks on me, but then we learned the brownish hue was caused by sand from the Sahara dessert which occasionally blows up into the atmosphere, crosses the Mediterranean, and settles on the highest peaks and valleys of Europe. Pretty amazing.

Another attraction is the “up-and-over” lift on the Le Fornet side, which you would likely take if you wanted to ski on the Du Pisaillas glacier. The lift passes over a narrow ridge, then follows a steep drop on the other side. At the very top you feel like you’re suspended in the sky, looking down into the abyss, before your gradual descent.

And if your idea of apres ski is a couple of beers at the lodge, you haven’t been to Le Folie Douce. Warning — this is not the kind of experience you want to expose to your teen daughter. Each afternoon, it’s like spring break on steroids, with a live rooftop burlesque show, a thousand or more skiers gyrating on tables, and bartenders spraying everyone with champagne. From some distance away we could hear the thumping club music, and as we approached, cresting a ridge overlooking the party, a heaving sea of humanity spread out below. I witnessed a couple of unspeakable acts as we propped our skis against a fence and ushered the two young girls inside where it was more civilized.

Le Folie Douce is actually a collection of eating and drinking establishments, to suit a range of tastes and budgets. There’s a great Italian restaurant — La Cucucina — where we all had lunch one day, but the real attraction is the apres scene outside. I still can’t understand how all the revelers manage to ski down after an afternoon of debauchery — in the U.S. it would be an ambulance chaser’s dream.

On our final day in Val D’Isere we basically just hung out. We had breakfast at Maison Chevallot “Les Clarines,” one of a family of bakeries in Val D’Isere and Tignes run by a world-famous French pastry chef — Patrick Chevallot. We explored the town and bought our T-shirts and souvenirs, and I picked up a bottle of Genepi to bring home.

Val D’Isere pretty much has everything you could want — spectacular skiing, jaw-dropping Alpine scenery, food and wine (it is France, after all), and a memorable apres ski experience. Next time I go I’ll try La Face again. Or maybe I’ll skip it and just head to the bar.