Eric Kendall embarks on a whistle-stop tour of Andorra and discovers a proper mountain wilderness, ripe for adventure, especially the untracked-snow kind.
Andorra: sixth smallest state in Europe, but of big interest to skiers since much of its 468 square kilometres is covered in lifts and pistes. That much is common knowledge to armies of Brits who made their first turns here on the extensive pistes of Grandvalira. But more surprising – at least to me – are the bits that aren’t covered by ski infrastructure. There’s proper mountain wilderness here, home to over half the animal species found in the Pyrenees, and peaks of nearly 3,000m. It’s ripe for adventure, especially the untracked-snow kind. Three days is clearly not enough to do the place justice, but that’s what we’ve got, so here goes.
DAY ONE
The aim is to knock off the massive linked area of Grandvalira, not by skiing all of its 210km of piste but via the region’s freeride areas, which I wasn’t really expecting in this land of the well-groomed. Instructor Joan is in charge, who turns out not to be a woman (language here – and names – are a confusing mix of Andorran and Spanish, but of course you can simply speak slowly in English and then repeat yourself more loudly, as required).
Despite bony conditions (snow is on the forecast though, so we’re hopeful), which mean rockfall might be more of a risk than avalanche, Joan does a thorough transceiver check. Then we’re scooting along to the Encampadana freeride gate, access point to one of a dozen or so pink blobs marked ‘freeride area’ on the piste map. Even if today we’re rock-hopping, this is fun terrain, especially when we get into a gully Joan warns is “Steepy!” It is, in parts, but turns out mostly to be a roller-coaster of a twisty wild ride, spitting us out through the sparse trees that pepper the lower slopes of this section. The striking thing here is that this is just one of many ways down – the zone is as wide as it is long.
Wild and woolly as it seems, we’re still in the middle of a massive lift system, so there’s no schlepping at the bottom just onto a lift for more. We duck into several of the other zones, before briefly booting to drop into a long, broad valley; no pistes here at all, just the 6km Funicamp gondola, which since 1998 has accessed Andorra’s main skiing from the 1,200m town of Encamp.
The upper part of the valley is one of Joan’s favourites, with more snow than elsewhere and playful, exploratory skiing, and plenty of lines funnelling down to a mid-station gondola stop, which has no obvious reason to be here other than for our convenience. Not sure what would happen if we kept going, but today we’re out of time, so we ride the upper section of the Funicamp back into the domain to ski down to Hotel Euroski near El Tarter for dinner.
DAY TWO
Another day, another guide, with another slightly confusing name: Mark Chrichton. Not, to my ear, Andorran or even Spanish. Turns out he came with his family from Zambia when he was nine and they never left; nor did his vaguely southern African accent. I’m not qualified to comment on his Andorran but suspect it’s pretty good, as is his knowledge of the country’s skiing – he’s even in charge of heliskiing locally, though nowadays prefers a proper day out, climbing to the top under human power before skiing down.
But today we start by lift, heading straight up past Grau Roig towards the eastern edge of the domain, Pas de la Casa, on the pass into France. It’s impressive to find a resort at 2,100m, with compact apartments clustered on the hillside as if huddling in the teeth of a storm. Because it’s definitely winter this morning, after overnight snow and with enough still in the wind to make it a good day to be following someone.
It’s deep and untouched between pistes, and as a bonus, this is not a place where you have to compete for fresh tracks. The climb towards the 2,700m Collada de Montmalus beckons – a gentle 350m skin past sparse trees, through meandering terrain and finally winding through rocky outcrops. Up to our right from the col is the 2,791m summit of Montmalus, which would normally be the point of coming up here; but the wind is strengthening and back the way we’ve just come looks very good in parts.
So it’s skins off before skiing a high left traverse to reach a wide gully, which drops steeply down into the valley. It is as full of soft snow as we had hoped – the perfect last act before a proper Andorran lunch in Braseria Piolet, of a local soup, which is more knife and fork than spoon-work.
Time to move on: siesta-time is on wheels, driving from El Tarter towards Ordino Arcalis, a resort in the north-west of the principality, well known for its freeride credentials and a regular host of the Freeride World Tour since 2015. Halfway there, we detour to a remote car park to don skins once more for the climb to our beds for the night in the Refugi Borda de Sorteny. This is definitely not what I had imagined Andorran skiing would be about; it’s certainly a long way from big hotels and duty-free shopping before dinner.
Up beautiful wooded hillside, the way climbs steeply beside a stream, then more easily on a snowy 4×4 track, which leads all the way to our goal. Halfway up a Ski-Doo pulls alongside – it’s Philippe, the guardian, coming up from town with fresh groceries, and checking in passing if we’re fussy about food. We are: we need lots of it.
From outside the old stone refuge, at almost 2,000m, looks as if it could be home to a shepherd and his flock; in fact, beyond the ski room is a comfy, leather sofa’d sitting-dining-room-bar with a massive fireplace you might find a boar roasting in. Not tonight, though from the kitchen good smells are wafting. Time for a swift shower – hot water, even – and we’re soon chowing down in the company of the Azerbaijani ski-mo team, who are here for the winter, training under Philippe’s watchful eye. It’s a long story.
DAY THREE
This morning we’re heading – in a very indirect way – for our Andorran finale, the resort of Ordino Arcalis. From Sorteny, we climb through wide-spaced stone-pines to a ridge, for 500 vertical metres of parallel gullies through light forest back down to the car. Challenging in parts, delightful in others, it’s a great line, and all before we’ve started the main part of our day.
A short drive gets us up to Arcalis in time for a second breakfast and the first lift, more or less. But it’s a no-rush kind of day – no-one around and it’s snowing a bit. Our first turns are powder on piste as we try to get the hang of the domain without actually being able to see it, though with cloud-break glimpses of the spiky peaks that ring the resort, which make obvious freeride adventure terrain. Not an option today, for lack of sufficient snow, is Arcalis’ freeride mountain – one chairlift straight up from La Coma to Andorra’s highest lift top on the 2,625m border with France. For piste, there’s just a red run winding down from the top, but steep freeride routes make this the place to go when the south-facing slopes are well filled.
Instead, we manage to find the entrance to a tunnel – apparently an attempt to make a cross-border road connection – which is full of ice stalagmites standing chilly sentry, to keep the French out, perhaps. We slither between them as far as we dare, into the gloom. It’s one of the more atmospheric things I’ve ever seen in a ski resort and a highlight so far. But then Mark pulls a rabbit out of the hat, traversing from the top of the Abarsetar chairlift out of domain into a huge forested area.
Unless you’ve led a very sheltered ski life, all your experience so far tells you you’ve found the goods. The snow is deep; there’s no-one here; it looks about a million metres to the valley bottom; and the trees aren’t even too tight. It’s as good as it promises – all the way to the essential bend of road just a short hoof below resort base where we drink to local ski guides, Andorran mountains and whatever the next adventure might be.
Read more >>> How does skiing Andorra stack up vs skiing the Alps?
