Friends on a Touring Day

On January 9, 2020, the French news talked about a new virus called Covid-19. At that moment it was nothing more than a minor health problem in a city in China, but on March 17, France was hit with its first lockdown. Ski resorts closed and skiers couldn't go beyond 2 kilometers as the crow flies from their homes. All ski lovers were asked not to infringe this order to avoid the risk of having accidents linked to mountain activities and thus overcrowding hospitals. On December 12, the government announced that no French ski resort would open its domain and that a curfew was fixed for 5pm. French skiers' morale was at its lowest, no ski lifts, no aperitifs, no restaurants, so out of necessity ski touring became the obvious solution.

Even skiers who were normally used to a 120-flex ski boot would slowly but surely fall for ski touring. Endurance athletes were swapping their ultra-light stretch headbands for thick knit caps, and freeriding enthusiasts chose skis with no less than 106 mm, foregoing those lightweight planks to have maximum fun. The clientele on the mountain changed abruptly. Some resorts marked out trails for the ascent and runs for the descent to ensure a minimum of safety. But that was rare. The rest of the resorts were simply abandoned, nature had taken over, the trails were untouched. Ski area maps were a thing of the past. Now it was a bunch of smartphone apps, including GPS navigation and weather and avalanche forecasts.

Skiers had to relearn how to read the mountains, estimate the cardinal and wind directions, etc. Facing the surreal news that haunted us on TV and the internet, we, as skiers, felt protected in the solitude of the mountains. Far away from everything and well taken care of. As if the snow was a barrier, like a Covid vaccine. We stayed in the mountains and closed our eyes to reality. How lucky we were to live in remote regions. Our conversations remained rather limited – the latest news about Covid and the next ski tour. The crisis remained invisible to us, except for the strangely lonely ski resorts that kept reminding us of it. When our skiing thirst was quenched, there was a sudden sour taste.

The feeling grew stronger with the speed of an avalanche. It may sound strange, but amid the lockdown and all the restrictions, we wanted more than ever to share our experiences, to exchange adventures with other skiers. Friendships were what we missed the most. The famous phrase "No friends on powder days" was quickly replaced with "Need a friend on a touring day." So, we decided to go on a road trip. First step: Coordinate the calendars. Everyone thought they were completely available, but that wasn't the case, so we had to decide on a day. If we hit powder, great, if not, also great, because this three-day road trip was not about skiing, but for the company. Second step: Because of Covid, all hotels were closed.

But we had two campervans and prefer this lifestyle to any Hilton. A luxury camper and a hippie van should be perfectly sufficient. Third step: Where should we go? Everyone pulled out their smartphones, and 20 minutes later we knew: the Hautes Alpes in France currently offer the best conditions. I did not really care, because I just wanted to be locked in a campervan with my friends. Arriving at a random parking lot at 5pm and deciding to do a sunset tour without the slightest hope of a sunset, but with the certainty of freezing to death and skiing on super bad snow... we all got into a frenzy and checked our gear. It felt a bit like being in the paddock of the Tour de France!

After sitting in the car for most of the day, we all couldn't wait to finally go on a ski tour together. A road trip is actually quite simple: drive, ski, eat, sleep, drive, ski, eat, sleep.... Still, it was exciting to leave early in the morning to find a super spot to ski and then hit the road again in the evening to find a super spot to park and sleep. Even though we didn't exactly cross the continent in the process, this road trip always gave us the feeling that we were adventurers doing something out of the ordinary – in the end, the destination didn't matter.

I have taken three road trips to Scandinavia in my life for skiing and base jumping, and I have to say that driving only 300 kilometers away from my home had the same effect on me: a feeling of adventure, of freedom. And what made this little adventure extraordinary was that we took the time to experience it together. On this wonderful trip through the Alps, we were four friends: Jeremy Prevost, a skier on the Freeride World Tour, a passionate skier, ski tourer and climber, always in a good mood and above all, our luxury chef. Mathieu Navillod, Mr. Elegance, former moguls World Cup skier and activist/president of an environmental organization.

Dom Daher, with whom I have traveled the world, a talented photographer always ready to jump into any adventure who initially didn't even want to bring his camera on this trip, but just wanted to enjoy being with his friends. In the end, it was a good thing he did bring it. And to top it all off, myself. The slowest climber, but with the excuse of carrying a huge drone. With all the necessary hindsight, even though the economy took a nosedive during those two winters and no one knows how we'll return to some kind of normality, Covid confronted us with a tremendous reality: The mountains are beautiful. Especially when you share them with your friends!