Backcountry Adventure in Vanoise National Park, France

Of all the ‘hidden gem’ valleys, peaks and plateaux of the Alps, the Vanoise National Park is the most magical…

WORDS & PHOTOS WILL ROBSON

“Look! Up on the ridge.” Mountain guide Antoine points at some sprightly chamois picking their way up the 2298m Le Moriond, above the village of Pralognan-la-Vanoise (1410m). It’s not an unusual sight for ski tourers, but when, 20 minutes later, we spot an ibex bowing its scimitar horns I suspect these creatures are tethered in place by the tourism bureau. The rare lammergeyer (bearded vulture) wheeling overhead is the final straw. “It must be on some sort of retainer,” I remark.

Antoine looks crestfallen and I regret my ‘j’accuse’ cynicism. Doubly so, as for Gilly, this is her first day ski touring. She totally bought into my ‘quiet wonder of skinning up into the wild backcountry’ pitch and I’m somewhat shattering the illusion. And it is quiet here, away from the lifts and pistes, well above the village, which sits at the north-west edge of the Vanoise National Park in the Savoie. Created in 1963, the park centres on the mountain range between the Tarantaise Valley to the north and the Maurienne Valley to the south. Of all the ‘hidden gem’ valleys, peaks and plateaux of the Alps, the Vanoise park is one of the least disturbed by man – and so, of course, it’s heaving with unfettered wildlife.

Check out our sponsors. They keep the stories flowing

The terrain is so precipitous that wide snow fields are in short supply, so the pisted areas of Pralognan-la-Vanoise are limited to (2023m) on the north-west side of the valley, with 28km of runs. Antoine has started us from the top of the Génépi chairlift at the Refuge Les Barmettes (2012m), east of the main area.

On the Up

Ski tourers know that any combo of variables can result in a first-timer (in this case, Gilly) declaring touring to have been ‘an experience’: just not one to be repeated. A lot hangs on this going well.

No matter that Antoine’s love of aerobatic paragliding has resulted twice in him hanging upside down from trees; he exudes calm and positivity during his safety briefing. He then sets off at a steady pace that sees two ladies (who know his mum), overtake us on snowshoes, wishing us a “bonne journée” as we head up the valley, following the GR55 route. To our right is Le Moriond, which connects via an extended saddle to the Aiguille de la Vanoise (2796m), a 500m-high pillar of bare rock.

It is overawing terrain – and yet many British skiers will have been within a few miles of Pralognan and never known it. The three valleys to the west are better known as Les Trois Vallées, and it’s hard to think of more contrasting resorts than tranquil and unassuming Pralognan and its nearest neighbour, Courchevel.

After crossing the Pont du Chaton bridge, buried metres below us, we stop on a more level area below the Aiguille. Antoine uses his trusty Opinel knife to slice into a huge block of locally-produced Beaufort Chalet D’Alpages as we survey the other side of the valley towards the Valonnet plateau to the north.

We’re all smiling. The sun is shining, the gradient is gentle and the snow slides easily beneath our skis. Antoine’s pace has let us ease into the rhythm of skiing uphill. Gilly reports: “It’s like a fine hike in the mountains,” and she hasn’t even thought about skiing downhill – often the best bit.

High above us a rocky ridge, shot through with snow gullies and moraines, marks the fall-away debris of the Glacier de la Grande Casse. Way up high to the east, its 3885m summit dominates the skyline.

Pralognan was best known as a major stopover on the ‘Salt Road’ to Italy. In 1860, an Englishman was the first to climb La Grand Casse, and well into the 20th century, Pralognan was compared to Chamonix or Zermatt: La Grand Casse being dubbed the ‘mini Mont Blanc’.

We head east, traversing the far side of the Aiguille above the Lac de Long, which lies between La Grand Casse and us. Antoine leads us to our overnight stop, set just below the Col de la Vanoise: the Refuge de La Vanoise (2517m). It’s a new hut, funded by the Savoie department but belonging to the French Alpine Club. Next to it stands the semi-derelict original hut, built in 1902, making it the oldest hut on the massif. It was called the Refuge Felix Faure after the French president who came over the pass in 1897. The new hut is all clean lines and open-plan minimalism. Panoramic windows flood the interior with light and stunning views smack you in the face in every direction.

Check out our sponsors. They keep the stories flowing

Calottes and Craft Ale

It’s the Friday before the opening weekend, so only a few other tourers are here. Some are travelling very light and fast, while others have more ambitious plans.

Meanwhile, we have our own somewhat less dare-devilish objective to focus on. Antoine takes us on an afternoon tour up to the Glacier de la Réchasse, below the Pointe de la Réchasse (3212m). The climb is steep enough for Gilly to be introduced to the art of the kick-turn. There are some moments of temporary inelegance, but a few zigs and zags later she’s dialled in.

After 90 minutes we crest the ridge at the confluence of three glaciers. The Glacier de la Roche Ferran to our left is a wide-open expanse; an undulating plateau of ice and snow fed by smaller glaciers from the surrounding peaks, such as the Grand Marchet. It’s a rare sight in the Alps. As one collective mass of ice and snow, at 10km it’s the largest ‘calotte’ type of glacier in Europe (it’s more of an ice cap; the snow and ice rarely move downwards).

The afternoon is drawing on and the snow conditions dictate that rather than try for the summit of Pointe de la Réchasse, we head down towards the Rocher du Génépy. It’s some 500 vertical metres to the hut below. The snow is less than fresh after a day’s sun but it’s still fun to carve through the gentle rollovers at speed.

After a hearty supper and some local craft ale, we turn in, sharing our bunkrooms with the three Brits, with a larger French party next door. Antoine says breakfast is at 6.30am. As Gilly’s eyebrows arch upwards I tell her this is considered a lie-in in most high mountain huts, which I think eases the blow slightly.

Survival Skills Safely Honed

Our morning objective is the Col de la Grande Casse. As we head up through the steep moraine section onto the glacier field, Antoine helps fix crampons on our bindings. The snow is hard and, for a novice, it makes traversing and kick-turning more secure. Gilly’s getting a thorough grounding in ski-touring techniques.

Cloud envelops us half way up the glacier. It’s atmospheric but not entirely safe or much fun after a while. We reluctantly turn around and head for home, all the way down to the Refuges Les Barmettes.

The snow that we slid up so nicely yesterday is icy and the tracks of snowshoes have churned the narrow sections of the descent. In very flat light it’s more of a survival ski down, but Gilly readily accepts this trade-off for heading into the backcountry. And besides, she’s skied in Scotland.

Despite only a short time in Pralognan-la-Vanoise and the national park, it was a perfect place to try ski touring, as Gilly will attest.

It’s low-key, friendly and an average of 30% cheaper for hiring gear and guide – and yet the terrain is certainly among the best in the Alps.

Pralognan means ‘faraway land’ in the local Savoyard patois. For a village surrounded by so many famous resorts, it somehow manages to live up to its name. It’s certainly a special place.