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Belize: Paddling in a Giant Bathtub

2007-04-30T09:54:00.000-07:00

I generally try to avoid countries in which the US Dollar is a widely accepted form of currency, as well as those with 4 daily non-stop flights to Texas. Nevertheless, I headed down to Belize with Kristin for a weeklong vacation, hoping to find more local adventures than yokels with dentures.

Our journey began in Dangriga. Though its population of 9,000 makes it the largest town in southern Belize, Frommers correctly observed that "there are no good beaches" and "the town can feel stifling hot and desolate on most days". Dirt roads and collapsed buildings outnumbered the few tourists passing through.

We met Captain Buck as he stumbled out of the Riverside Cafe. He quickly ushered us and another couple into his old, run-down skiff, stashing our bags next to a large supply of raw meat. We pushed off as he grabbed a wooden bench from the dock: this was to become our seat for the 9 mile ride out to the island of Tobacco Caye.

Most guidebooks advise travelers to make this crossing in the morning, as afternoons can be gusty. So naturally we planned a 5:30pm departure, and soon found our little vessel slammed around by white-capped swells on an open sea. Our bench toppled over within minutes, and we scrambled to hang on before the next massive drop. Another passenger confided that Buck had been enjoying a few beers before our departure. Kristin, a maritime SAR expert, awarded Buck points for attacking the waves at a 45-degree angle, while I suggested that we should have traded the raw meat for a few life jackets back at the dock.

In any event, Tobacco Caye proved to be an excellent backpackers' hideaway, with perhaps 50 rooms and as many hammocks scattered around the tiny island. Simple lodging and food, but very relaxing. The cabanas on the water at Paradise Lodge are among the nicest on the island.

We later hopped on a larger boat and spent the next few days kayaking at Glover's Reef, a remote atoll with hundreds of patch reefs in a tranquil lagoon. It's basically a giant outdoor bathtub, though apparently soap and rubber duckies are discouraged. You can watch stingrays swimming gracefully beneath your kayak, and it's easy to disembark near a shallow patch reef for snorkeling among the colorful little fishies.

As you might expect when 30 miles offshore on a sandbar, you don't have to worry about hordes of tourists. However, sleeping at the reef is not cheap. If you can handle an organized group camping trip with lots of Americans and coconut squirrels, one relatively affordable option is the 3-day Glovers Getaway on Southwest Caye. Otherwise, try the more expensive cabanas at Isla Marisol (also on Southwest Caye), or for longer stays, the bunks at the research station on Middle Caye.

Please remove your space helmets

2006-09-07T11:22:00.000-07:00

Hilarious article in The Economist about in-flight announcements [subscription only].

Your life-jacket can be found under your seat, but please do not remove it now. In fact, do not bother to look for it at all. In the event of a landing on water, an unprecedented miracle will have occurred, because in the history of aviation the number of wide-bodied aircraft that have made successful landings on water is zero. This aircraft is equipped with inflatable slides that detach to form life rafts, not that it makes any difference. Please remove high-heeled shoes before using the slides. We might as well add that space helmets and anti-gravity belts should also be removed, since even to mention the use of the slides as rafts is to enter the realm of science fiction.

Wanderlust

2006-09-04T20:14:00.000-07:00

Another year living overseas comes to an end. The usual remnants of wanderlust: expired visas, wads of currency, maps, ticket receipts, vaccination records.

Before moving home, I embarked on a whirlwind tour of China with old friends. Wei kindly introduced us to her Beijing family and helped us navigate the backroads of Huang Shan, Guilin, and Yangshuo.

Now that I'm back, the sedentary lifestyle has much appeal. I'm spending most of my weekends in town, but it's hard to pass up a three-day scenic hike in Southwest Colorado, from Cascade Creek (near the Purgatory ski resort) over two mountain passes to the old mining town of Ophir, just outside of Telluride. After being battered by hail and freezing rain, we camped by Island Lake (12,400'), easily one of the most beautiful places I've slept.

Big Pimpin' Spendin' Cheese

2006-06-14T03:09:00.000-07:00

The best part of living in Zürich is not being in Zürich: nowhere else can you effortlessly reach so much of Europe. The past few weekends, in particular, have been ridiculous.

We started with a last-minute trip to Oslo for Tonje's birthday, and ended up escorting a gaggle of twentysomething girls out for a night of clubbing. Afterwards, our expensive hotel wasn't amused with the idea of us bringing them all upstairs for late-night drinks. The hotel's night staff foolishly engaged Alex in a debate, citing undocumented Norwegian fire safety rules and refusing to give us their names. In the end, they earned official reprimands; we earned a huge discount. And the undying admiration of our female companions, of course.

Next up, a weekend with my family in Rovinj, a beautiful Croatian town on the Istrian peninsula. We ate and drank lavishly, including a visit to Zigante, home of the world's largest white truffle. Meanwhile, we cruised the harbour each afternoon to watch the ACI Cup (a sailing event on the World Match Racing Circuit) and slept in our host's "spare" apartment building, each of us taking our own floor.

Three days later, Alex and I decided to escape the awful Zürich weather and spend a weekend in Istanbul. We didn't have any local contacts planned, but thanks to our seemingly infinite luck, discovered a Turkish colleague who was taking the same flight. We ended up staying out with him until 6:00am both nights, driving up and down the Bosphorous to visit tea shops, university parties, open-air dance clubs, and soup parlors. Apparently the Turks believe that eating tripe soup at sunrise does wonders for hangovers.

Our colleague's sister managed to get us a reservation at the über-trendy restaurant 360, which apparently doesn't even publish a phone number. Meanwhile, tasty grilled lamb kebabs could be found on every corner for a dollar or two... not to mention a few thousand years of Byzantine and Ottoman history.

And if that all wasn't enough, we spent the following weekend in Amsterdam with our Dutch/Norwegian friends. As VIPs at a glitzy club called Jimmy Woo's, we found DJ Tiësto in a room with thousands of light bulbs on the ceiling. Sleepless and weary, we later hopped across the border to Gelsenkirchen to watch Jesusland get thrashed by the Czech Republic in the opening round of the World Cup. Alex's contacts at UBS gave us 16th row tickets and hosted us for the evening at an old German castle, Schloss Bensberg. Ridiculous.

The Haute Route : Day 6

2006-04-21T16:20:00.000-07:00

Chamonix-Verbier-Zermatt in 6 days
(« back to day 1)

Day 6 : Vignettes Hut to Zermatt

1170m up, 2730m down, 30km across

The longest day demands an early start, so I'm up at 4:50am, a few minutes before everybody else in the bunkroom (estimated occupancy: 30 people and 10 snoring chainsaws). Walking outside towards the cliff toilets, I realize three important things:

It's damn cold in the middle of the night above 3000m
Lashing winds have numbed my face and hands within seconds
The sun has no intention of rising soon

Nevertheless, the hut is buzzing with anticipation as everyone hurries to eat and pack up. Today will be long but glorious: with good weather, we'll see the Matterhorn and the Dent d'Hérens towering above our heads during the 18km descent into Zermatt.

We're out the door, and I'm prepared for the weather this time: hood up, face covered, goggles on. We walk the cliff's edge back towards Pigne d'Arolla, struggling to keep fingers warm and trudging through knee-deep spindrift powder. We jump in our skis and cross the Glacier du Mont Collon in a fast, icy traverse. Rough clumps of ice grab at my skis.

We spend an hour climbing up to the Col de l'Evêque (3382m), still blasted by the cold morning winds. Our next descent begins icily, but we find powder above the flat Haut Glacier d'Arolla: yet another visit to fluffy white heaven! We zoom out onto the flats of the glacier and begin our second ascent.

It's easy going until we reach a steep 100m wall, directly below the Col du Mont Brulé (3213m). Other groups have kicked a nice bootpack, so we all climb on foot... except our junior guide, Phillipe. He quickens his pace as he zigs and zags tight turns up the wall on skins. We're done by 9:20am, but Phillipe beats us with minutes to spare. Damn.

The subsequent 140m descent seems to last mere seconds. Though somewhat obvious, I suppose, it's still remarkable how quickly one can descend huge altitudes on skis. When hiking or trekking, descents are perhaps two or three times faster than ascents. On skis, it seems like descents are 10x-30x faster. You barely even notice them.

At last, the final ascent awaits: a 490m push up the Haut Glacier de Tsa de Tsan. For purely psychological reasons, this proves to be crushing. Knowing that it's all downhill on the other side makes it painfully difficult to concentrate. I climb final 200m in a daze, loosely aware that I'm clustered with Alex and a pair of Italians that we've seen before: nobody is talking. Clouds envelop us near the summit, and we lose sight of the group; we trudge around exhaustedly in various directions until we find a cluster of familiar backpacks and jackets. Eventually I realize that we're basically done now: we've reached the top of Col de Valpelline (3557m), nearly 5 hours after leaving the hut.

Much to Alex and Matt's surprise, Jean calls out for all remaining lunch food: including the cheese from Chamonix and the kilogram of Verbier bread! Remarkably, my companions haven't jettisoned their cargo along the way, so we refuel before the long descent. My mind wanders as the clouds unveil the surrounding peaks, including the awe-inspiring 4477m Matterhorn. Wow.

Descending the Stockji glacier on a sunny afternoon is, quite simply, unforgettable. Elated by knowing that we have nothing left to ascend, Alex observes that it's like a video game: we bounce around between crevasses and ice blocks, slushing through the wet afternoon snow and marvelling at the sunny scenery.

Though easy today, apparently it's challenging to navigate these glacial features in a storm. Jean comments that the route changes significantly each year: early in the season, he always records his path on GPS. When he gets caught in storms on later trips, he follows the route and typically ends up leading small armies of skiers through the maze.

Eventually the valley flattens completely and we struggle to maintain our speed, hopping over rocks and obstacles along the way. Before we can reach the resort of Zermatt, we end up dismounting and walking a few kilometers along a soggy dirt road. Tired and dirty, we're all grumpy and eager to get back to civilization: walking through mud has little appeal. But we soon reach the Stafelalp restaurant, at which point we can skate and ski along a painfully flat catwalk, a slight improvement on walking.

At Füri, we discover that the short piste down to Zermatt is lacking anything that resembles snow. We can take the gondola down, but such a dull ending to our journey seems unacceptable. Instead, we enjoy sliding down wet grass and mud, sticking to the shadows and the narrow trail of slush that somebody has conveniently shoveled for our benefit. As we reach the town, I'm somewhat awe-struck in disbelief: we actually made it!

This being Zermatt, nobody pays much attention to our motley crew. Smelly mountaineers are nothing special: the town is crawling with as many harnessed, axe-wielding skiers as Japanese tourists. Matt, Alex, and I end up parting ways with the group, all of whom are immediately returning to Chamonix... but we have better plans: a night at the nicest hotel we can find, followed by a cruisy day of skiing the resort. Good times.

The Haute Route : Day 5

2006-04-20T16:20:00.000-07:00

Chamonix-Verbier-Zermatt in 6 days
(« back to day 1)

Day 5 : Dix Hut to Vignettes Hut

950m up, 730m down, 7km across

Wearing contact lenses sucks when there's no running water. At least I can buy bottles of mineral water ($6 each), but I haven't seen soap in days. Next time I'll bring hand sanitizer.

Today is the biggest continuous climb of the trip: 950m in one fell swoop, up to our second true summit, Pigne d'Arolla (3790m). Conveniently enough, it's another crisp dawn on another bluebird day. I've seldom been so happy to be awake at this hour.

We drop down 100m and cross the Glacier de Cheilon, stopping to skin up minutes later. Jean sets a deliberate, slow climbing pace and the entire group sticks closely together. This is a smart move: we've climbed 300m before I even notice my legs moving.

Zigging and zagging upwards, we gaze at crevasses and icy blue caverns below the pointy rocks of Tsena Refien. The trail is superb: our predecessors have picked a comfortable angle of ascent and cut nicely into the slope, allowing me to stand upright without awkwardly rolling my ankles downhill. This makes all the difference: I kick turns with an effortless grace that few men have ever achieved.

Sunlight catches us on a high plateau, directly below a 100m wall of ice known as La Serpentine (right edge of photo). As you might expect from a wall, it looks pretty damn steep. Yikes. I'm wondering whether we shouldn't go on foot, but Jean seems unconcerned: he's not even sure that ski crampons are necessary. I'd rather not take my chances, so I attach them under my feet.

And indeed, it's not easy climbing. The trail carved into the icy snow is too narrow to accomodate both of my skis, so my downhill leg dangles helplessly as I push along. The steepness and the exposure do little to calm my nerves. At the crux, both guides stand below the kick turn platform and support all the clients by bracing our skis with their poles. My uphill ski flips around easily enough, but it's always the downhill ski that's the tricky one. I can't even get it halfway around before my tip is wedged on the steep ice above me. I let go of my poles, which dangle from my wrists, and use both hands to yank on my ski tip and force it around the turn. Not an impressive display.

The final 200m ascent to Pigne d'Arolla is mellow, and we're at the summit before 11:00am. I already know it will be impossible capture the panorama on film: we can see from Mont Blanc to the Matterhorn, and even the Jungfraujoch in the distant Bernese Alps. Truly spectacular. This is the highest point we'll reach, about 2200m (7200') above Zermatt. But it's not all downhill yet: another full day of climbing awaits us tomorrow.

Summits mean descents, so we enjoy a long, steep 630m descent to the Vignettes Hut. No fresh tracks to be found on this section, but the snow is forgiving and hasn't yet transformed into wet concrete.

We quickly spot the Vignettes Hut below us, perched on the edge of a wide chasm (see photo). Skating along the rim to reach the entrance, I wonder how the Swiss ever managed to build this massive structure. I grip the handrail tightly and explore the perimeter. Amazingly, the toilets are located beyond the cliff's edge: all waste falls directly through a hole and drops 100m onto the glacier below. Not a pretty picture.

On the positive side, the hut features a convenient helipad for sunbathing. We spend another rough afternoon drinking beer and playing cards, enjoying our last evening in the mountains.

Day 6 : Vignettes Hut to Zermatt »

The Haute Route : Day 4

2006-04-19T16:20:00.000-07:00

Chamonix-Verbier-Zermatt in 6 days
(« back to day 1)

Day 4 : Prafleuri Hut to Dix Hut

740m up, 430m down, 9km across

We awake to a glorious sunrise: another bluebird day! Phillipe, our younger guide, informs us that the expected storm front has passed ahead of schedule and we can look forward to great weather for the remainder of the trip.

The snow is hard and icy in the cool morning air, but the first ascent passes quickly: half an hour to climb 180m up Col de Roux. It's only 7:45am. I reflect that, on a normal Wednesday, I'd be sleeping until 9:00am and accomplishing almost nothing before noon. Then again, on a normal day I can stay awake past 10:00pm.

From the col, we can clearly see much of our journey ahead: a traverse along the flat shores of Lac de Dix, followed by a steady 1400m climb up to Pigne d'Arolla. Today we'll only climb 550m up to the next hut, taking it relatively easy. Tomorrow will not be as forgiving.

The traverse is firm and icy: ideal conditions, actually. Fresh snow or slush would make the crossing both tiresome and dangerous, as the slopes above the lake are notoriously avalanche-prone. At first, we move quickly, dropping down from the pass and moving away from the lake in a sweeping arc along the contour lines. We cross a number of slide paths, littered with knee-high chunks of frozen debris, dodging carefully to avoid hard falls. Rejoining the lake, we move more slowly, trying to keep a high line but inevitably needing to side-step up the slope every few minutes.

Our guide Phillipe, who's never actually skied this route before, leads five clients far too low, forcing them to regain many precious vertical meters. Matt isn't pleased with this segment of our journey, wishing he could be climbing Col du Chardonnet again instead. Alex is suffering too, having begun the traverse with his climbing shims in the upright and locked position: I was baffled as he collapsed in total exhaustion every 100m, until he finally noticed the problem. D'oh! But lucky me, I'm perfectly content: I like that we've endured a variety of obstacles instead of simply skinning each day (which is, conveniently, not my strongest skill).

We reach the end of the lake by 9:00am and begin an icy climb up towards the Glacier de Cheilon. It's not easy. Alex, who has thus far managed nicely without ski crampons, decides to throw in the towel and hike up the slope. I'm tempted to join him, but I have no real excuse, and probably ought to entertain the crowd with a few of my famous kick turns, flopping around like a fish out of the water. As is customary, my body decides to shed excess water weight by dousing itself in sweat. Soon enough, the slope mellows out and we can relax more, gliding up the sunny slope and reaching the Dix Hut (2928m) well before noon.

After a quick lunch, Alex joins Phillipe for a 600m climb of nearby La Luette (3548m), and finds some of the best spring corn he's ever seen. Matt and I remain defiantly lazy, and spend the subsequent six hours lying in the sun on the hut's balcony, gawking at the ceracs of Mont Blanc de Cheilon and drinking beer. Life is good.

Day 5 : Dix Hut to Vignettes Hut »

The Haute Route : Day 3

2006-04-18T16:20:00.000-07:00

Chamonix-Verbier-Zermatt in 6 days
(«back to introduction)

Day 3 : Verbier to Prafleuri Hut

800m up, 1500m down, 10km across

Waking up clean and refreshed is an under-appreciated luxury. 5:45am doesn't feel so early today, and I'm looking forward to a fully-automated morning itinerary: a bus from Champex to Le Châble, followed by a few vertical kilometers of gondolas and trams.

Sleeping in civilization and travelling on roads is an unnatural break in an otherwise pure ski tour, but the Classic Route has always been done with such interruptions. Verbier, however, is actually a variation of the Classic Route, which ordinarily connects through the town of Bourg St. Pierre. Our variation apparently requires a bit less climbing and bypasses the Plateau du Couloir, which can be dangerous in heavy storms.

Apparently dissatisfied with the amount of weight we're carrying, Jean seizes an opportunity to go shopping for more provisions. He returns with dozens of oranges, apples, pears, ham, cheese, and bread. Since we haven't eaten any of the bread or cheese I've been carrying, I get off easy this time with just a few pieces of fruit, which I eat immediately. Alex, who was scolded yesterday for skiing ahead of the guides, becomes the proud recipient of a loaf of bread. Weighing a full kilogram, it probably increases his pack weight by 10%. I wonder if Jean isn't regretting how little safety equipment we brought, and perhaps intends to use the bread as a snow anchor. Or maybe we need a bludgeon to fend off marauding polar bears? We place bets on whether it will be eaten before reaching Zermatt.

In any event, we enjoy a pleasant ride up to Verbier's Col des Gentianes (2894m), beginning to ski at 10:30am with a short, icy descent and quick 200m ascent of Col de la Chaux (2940m). Though we awoke to dense cloud and fog in Champex, we've managed to rise above the weather and marvel at our continuing luck. Blue skies make happy skiers!

We remove our skins and descend a bumpy, well-trodden traverse behind Mont Fort. Another gentle ascent leads up 250m to Col de Momin (3003m), and we climb further up towards Rosablanche (3336m), the first actual peak we'll be tackling. The weather has become unsettled again, but we have enough visibility to see the path ahead, and reach the summit by 1:00pm without too much hassle, climbing the final portion on foot.

The trail today is more crowded than before, as apparently Rosablanche is a popular day-trip destination for backcountry skiers and snowboarders. Two rescue helicopters land nearby to pick up injured skiers. Military helicopters are buzzing everywhere, dropping bundles of heavy supplies for next week's race from Zermatt to Verbier. It's not exactly the kind of solitude and peace that many seek in the mountains, but we know that other days will offer quieter moments.

After a quick lunch in the snow, we enjoy a 600m descent through the clouds, with more great snow at the top, getting heavier farther down. No sunshine, but no wind either: apart from the first few minutes on the summit of Grands Montets, it's been perfectly still the whole time.

We reach the Cabine de Prafleuri (2624m) by 2:30pm, and enjoy another lazy afternoon of playing cards and drinking wine. We're pleased to discover that, contrary to what appears our guidebook, the hut has been newly rebuilt and offers some of the nicest facilities in the region, including showers and sinks. Other guests and guides advise us that the French have the worst huts, and the Italians the best: apparently they'll make you authentic espresso each morning. I add "ski touring in Italy" to my ever growing "to-do" list, and sleep soundly, despite the snoring.

Day 4 : Prafleuri Hut to Dix Hut »

The Haute Route : Day 2

2006-04-17T16:20:00.000-07:00

Chamonix-Verbier-Zermatt in 6 days
(«back to introduction)

Day 2 : Argentière Hut to Champex

1050m up, 2325m down, 16km across

It's 6:00am and the hut is buzzing, headlamps beaming across the dark, musty room. Nobody seems to have slept fitfully, except the snoring gentlemen lying a few inches to my left. As he continues his virtuoso performance, I crawl out of bed and choke down the stale bread being offered as breakfast.

Despite having relatively few belongings, Matt and I are still organizing our gear at 7:10am, not yet accustomed to the morning mountain routine. Our group is already waiting outside in the cold morning air, so we quickly scramble out the door and run to catch up. How did we become the slow ones?

No matter. The sunrise on Aiguille Verte is glorious, not a cloud in the sky. We cruise down 200 meters in a gentle traverse before reaching the start of our first major ascent: the Col du Chardonnet. Taking a deep breath, I start the first icy pitch and quickly discover that my skins are all but useless. Others are struggling too, stumbling through kick turns and fighting to hold their grip on the hard snow. It's not a pretty sight, and once again, I'm a sweaty mess. I try to embrace the suffering, but end up muttering under my breath while Jean offers colorful commentary:

"Snap your heels! Make your legs parallel!"

"Your water pouch and drinking hose are useless! Get a normal bottle!"

Time passes slowly, and I begin contemplating Jean's untimely demise. It's a good thing that we left the ice axes behind in Chamonix.

Higher up, the snow is softer and my kick turns become less of a spectacle. By 9:30am, we reach the top of the col and welcome ourselves back into Switzerland. But where's the border control and currency exchange? We've clearly found a hole in the Swiss defences.

We pause to admire the Glacier de Saleina directly below us. The only question is: how to get down there? A steep, narrow chute drops 75m before opening onto the plateau. It can be skied, but falling would have somewhat serious consequences, so we rope up and the guides lower us down individually.

Meanwhile, a few dozen other skiers have assembled at the col and begin to set up their own anchors. It's a complete circus. A group of Italians decides to descend wearing crampons, all roped together in a huddled mass. Soon they've fallen down and lost a crampon, which tumbles dangerously down the chute. One of our group loses a ski and decides to slide down the remainder of the pitch on his ass.

Gathering the troops, we finally press onwards, enjoying an easy traverse down and a gentle climb up towards the Fenêtre de Saleina. The last hundred meters are too steep for skins, so we kick steps in the soft snow and reach the top in minutes. Once again, we're rewarded for our efforts with an entirely new vista: the vast and gentle Plateau du Trient, closely surrounded by rocky spires and corniced ridges. We stop for lunch and enjoy a bit of sunshine before the big descent.

Having skied at resorts my whole life, I've long regarded traverses and catwalks as irritating obstacles. But when skis are used as a mode of transportation, I realize that traverses can be immensely satisfying. Gliding through remote alpine basins, you can quickly move distances that would take hours to travel on foot. And I'm perfectly content to stare at the surroundings while my skis keep me going in the right direction.

My attention focuses as we descend the steeper Glacier du Trient, which is decked in a few inches of fresh powder and large swaths of rock-hard glacier ice. We laugh and smile through the turns before taking a hard right and departing the lovely glacier. One minor challenge remains: a 100m ascent of the Col des Ecandies, which is easily climbed on foot.

We're done with glaciers for the day, and it's all downhill from here. 1300m down, to be exact. We cruise through the sunny Val d'Arpette, enjoying the powdery turns below the col and hydroplaning across the soggy slush near the town of Champex. It's a short walk to our modest dormitory hotel, where we feel like kings: we have running water, showers, toilets, and individual mattresses. Victory is ours!

Day 3 : Verbier to Prafleuri Hut »

The Haute Route

2006-04-16T16:20:00.000-07:00

Chamonix-Verbier-Zermatt in 6 days

"This hat is useless. It won't keep you warm in the morning, and it's too hot for sunny afternoons."

Our guide, Jean, is tearing through Matt's backpack. Most of the gear meets his approval, but Jean has plenty of packing advice for his new clients. Share headlamps and toothpaste, he advises: every ounce of weight matters. But what about shovels and avalanche probes? Ice axes and prusik loops?

"Too heavy," Jean declares.

The two guides will carry these common safety items, he assures us. We glance at each other suspiciously: crevasse rescue, anyone? And if both guides are buried in an avalanche?

Hmm. But none of us has ever been ski touring in the Alps, whereas Jean has skied this particular route more than 150 times. We return to our hotel and empty our packs accordingly, happy to lose a few kilograms. Speed is safety!

It's Saturday night in Chamonix, and we are finally ready to begin our journey: the Haute Route from Chamonix to Zermatt. We'll spend the following six days skiing 70 kilometers across dozens of glaciers in 3 different countries, climbing 5200m along the way. By comparison, one ascends less than 3500m from the Everest base camp to its summit.

Our party of three Americans is joining a group of seven other clients and two guides from the Compagnie des Guides de Chamonix. Most are native French, and our gender diversity is typical: 11 men and a lone woman, who isn't the least bit daunted by the situation. Some clients are more than twice my age, while others have filled their packs with excess toiletries and pet rocks. Matt, Alex, and I smile at each other knowingly: this is not going to be a fast, efficient group. No point in hurrying to the meeting point tomorrow: we'll end up waiting around while bags are packed and repacked.

Day 1 : Chamonix to Argentière Hut

475m up, 925m down, 6 kilometers

We arrive at the Maison de la Montagne a few minutes late, casually munching on leftovers from breakfast. The entire group is ready to depart and waiting for us.

"You're late. Take this food," Jean commands, passing us three shopping bags and ushering us into waiting vans. It seems that last night's crusade to save weight has ended.

My shopping bag contains a dozen candy bars and pieces of fresh fruit, all for personal consumption. For group lunches, I'm carrying a pound of cheese and a loaf of bread. If we were skiing anywhere but the Alps, these would be sensible provisions. However, the backcountry huts we'll be visiting sell both snacks and hot lunches, along with an impressive selection of wines and beverages. I decide that Jean has simply lost focus, and promptly discard most of the candy and fruit, keeping only what I'll need for the first two days. Speed is safety!

It's warm and cloudy in the valley, but thanks to modern lift technology, we're soon whisked 2000 vertical meters up to the Col des Grands Montets, which is being attacked by icy winds. We quickly descend, making fresh tracks through light and fluffy powder. As the winds relax and the clouds part, it becomes suddenly clear that I'm surrounded by some of the most glorious mountains I've ever seen. The Col du Chardonnet looms above us, revealing a steep 750 meter climb that awaits us in the morning. Yikes.

We reach the flats of the Argentière Glacier and attach skins to our skis for our first ascent. Climbing gently through fresh snow, the group quickly falls into a synchronized rhythm, moving together as a centipede up the slope.

The Argentière hut, our destination, is reached in less than an hour. The final ascent rises steeply from the glacier and manages to challenge my novice skinning abilities. Matt and I end up slipping and sliding our way up, leaving me in a healthy sweat. We've only climbed 170 meters.

After a quick lunch at the hut, we ascend the nearby Glacier des Amethystes for a practice tour. Jean teaches me a better way to execute uphill kick turns, snapping my heel down and flicking my ski tip up (see Couloir Magazine's illustrated guide). I'm still sweating heavily and gasping for air, wasting lots of energy on inefficient turns and slipping backwards. But we've climbed another 300 meters, and stop for a practice session with our avalanche transceivers.

Amazingly, our group spends 5 minutes trying to switch all 12 beacons into "receive" mode, helpfully ensuring that any buried victims become hypothermic. Some are impressed as Alex uses his transceiver to quickly locate a guide's hidden backpack. The wonders of modern technology! It becomes clear that bringing shovels and probes wouldn't have made us any safer: they'd just be useful for recovering bodies.

We enjoy an evening of cards and wine at the Argentière hut, together with a hearty meal of meat and polenta. With any luck, the skies will clear by morning.

Day 2 : Argentière Hut to Champex »

Chamonix

2006-04-03T15:47:00.000-07:00

(part of my guide to skiing the alps)

Visiting Chamonix is invariably a religious experience for extreme skiers and climbers. The history of alpinism in the nearby mountains spans more than two centuries, creating an ethereal mystique that lurks in every crevasse and couloir.

Whether or not you believe the hype, it's hard not to be impressed by the scenery. Ever seen a mountain looming 12,000 feet directly above your head (Mont Blanc)? If you want a closer look, take a quick tram ride up to the Aiguille du Midi (a mere 9,209 vertical feet above town) where you'll find yourself gasping for air and drunk after a beer or two. Or if you prefer, bring your skis and descend the Vallée Blanche, a legendary route back to Chamonix down 13 miles of glaciers... in this case, you might want to skip the beer.

Such legendary off-piste descents are part of the reason for Chamonix's fame: the town is buzzing with mountaineers and expert skiers. It's not unusual to ride the morning tram surrounded by more ice axes than rental skis. The dangers of crevasses and avalanches should not be taken lightly, however, and visitors attempting anything remotely "interesting" should almost certainly hire a guide.

In our first visit, we explored Chamonix's two biggest ski areas: Grands-Montets and Brévent-Flégère.
By alpine standards, neither is particular vast: Arlberg (St. Anton / Lech) and Verbier (4 Vallées) have perhaps ten times as many lifts and marked runs. Like Davos, Chamonix has five separate ski areas, but most visitors either head for the backcountry or stick to the two major areas.

Expert skiers will have no complaints at Grands-Montets: the wide open terrain betwen marked runs is epic. The Argentiere glacier is easily accessible from the summit, which also marks the beginning of the Haute Route, a classic ski tour which ends in Zermatt. On the front side of the mountain, the various bowls near the combe de la Pendant (L4) were full of fresh tracks. For snow quality, head far to the skiers' right of La Herse, below the obvious rocky spine.

Brévent-Flégère has its share of steep terrain, but lacks the glacier access and elevation of Grands-Montets, whose summit is 750m higher. Still, the views of Mont Blanc from the top of Le Brévent are jaw-dropping, and we had plenty of fun doing laps down piste B1 to Planpraz: a fitting, mellow end to our stellar week out in the Western Alps.

More reading: a good article from the Times (registration probably required). Pistehors has a good description of skiing the Vallée Blanche. Impressive backcountry descents, including the north face of the Aiguille du Midi, are documented here by a Cham local named Phil Ingle.

Verbier

2006-04-03T13:52:00.000-07:00

(part of my guide to skiing the alps)

Verbier is the main destination in the massive ski network known as 4 Vallées. Don't forget your altimeter: 92 lifts and more than 6,000 vertical feet makes this one of the biggest resorts in the Alps (trail map). It's located roughly halfway between Chamonix and Zermatt, so on a clear day, you can send a shout out to Mont Blanc and the Matterhorn from the summit.

For a warm-up run, you can't beat the gorgeous descent from Col des Gentianes down to La Chaux, a gentle 2,200' drop down a valley with panoramic views. But if the snow's good, you'll have more fun skiing the bowls above Tortin, beginning either at Mont-Fort, Mont-Gelé, or Chassoure: the terrain here is deliciously vast and steep. Unfortunately, we missed the previous storm by more than a week, so we could only imagine the real glory. After two days of flopping around moguls, one of my free-heeled friends accepted his powderless fate and picked up a cheap pair of alpine skis to better enjoy the conditions.

Our most interesting run was a 4,200' descent from Lac des Vaux to La Tzoumaz by way of Vallon d'Arbi. After ten minutes, we found a bulldozed path tunneling through an apparent ice field, traversing sharply left across the valley. The path consisted of more rock than snow, of course, since I had just waxed and edged my skis the previous evening. No matter: below the traverse was a mushy-but-enjoyable bowl that drained into steep trees, both of which were a welcome respite from hard-packed moguls.

As with many marked "ski routes" in the Alps, the bottom of the valley wasn't anywhere near a ski lift. To reach La Tzoumaz, we skated and glided a few kilometers along a roadside path, wondering whether we'd managed to get hopelessly lost again (see Davos). We shortly reached La Tzoumaz, where a surprisingly long gondola (3,600' vertical) connected us back to the Verbier side via Savoleyres.

Getting to Verbier is relatively simple, unless you live in Zürich, from which all of the mountains in the Valais are a bit of a hike. Take a train to Martigny, then connect to the mountain railway going up towards Le Châble. Jump on the gondola here for a scenic ride into the middle of Verbier (avoid the slow PostAuto bus).

Be warned that Verbier is not a cheap place to sleep, eat, or drink, even by Swiss standards. We rented an apartment with a large terrace directly on Place Central from the Hotel Ermitage, from which we happily hosted our own après ski festivities.

Swiss German is a Farce

2006-04-02T14:23:00.000-07:00

As any German speaker can tell you, the Swiss do not speak German. "Swiss German", or Schwyzertüütsch, is not a dialect: it's a whole new language. Or rather, it's a hodgepodge of dialects that are linguistically similar to medieval German but use wildly different pronunciations and spellings from each other. As Wikipedia reports: "Each dialect is separable in numerous local sub-dialects, sometimes down to a resolution of individual villages".

There aren't many rules behind Schwizertitsch: the name of the language itself can be written in a dozen different ways, all equally valid, because there isn't a standard written form. On the positive side, foreigners trying to learn the language can be wildly inventive: the Swiss will just assume you're a native speaker from some remote valley. All you need is confidence and a healthy amount of spit!

On a brief ski tour last weekend near Flumserberg, we came upon a small backcountry hut called Alp Fursch. The staff were extremely friendly and tolerant of our fumbling attempts to speak Hochdeutsch. Even better: their menu was actually written entirely in a Glarner dialect of Schwiizerdütsch, and they let us keep a copy as a souvenir.

An excerpt:

FEINI, HUUSGMACHTI

SPÄTZLI	14.-/16.-
SUPPÄ	6.50
CHÜÄCHÄ	3.-
WÄIÄ	3.50

D'MERHEIT FUDÄ ZUÄTATÄ SIND IIHEIMISCHI PRODUKT
& ALLÄS FLEISCH ISCH SCHWIIZERFLEISCH

GÄND ÜCH SORG BIM FÜRÄFAHRÄ!!!
MERSSI FÜRÄ BSUÄCH
Z'FURSCH-TEAM

The second-to-last line, "MERSSI FÜRÄ BSUÄCH", would probably be translated into Hochdeutsch as: "Danke für Ihre Besuch". The word "MERSSI" is their spelling of the French word "merci", which is commonly used in Swiss German. Whee!

Perhaps the translation becomes easier after drinking the hut's special alcoholic coffee drink, "Kafi Schätzli", which is proudly described as "DR HUUSKAFI, D'MISCHIG WIRD NÜD VERRATÄ!!!"

Sigh.

Engelberg - Titlis

2006-01-24T01:00:00.000-08:00

(part of my guide to skiing the alps)

Worried about global armageddon and looking for a safe refuge? You could do worse than Engelberg. Situated at the south end of a narrow, winding valley, Engelberg is closely guarded by 3000-4000' rock walls that rise abruptly from the valley floor. In the summer, you can hike into the valley from the east over the Surenen Pass, an old mule-traders' route. No matter what season, it's a beautiful place.

The town is about two hours from Zürich via train, changing trains in Luzern; driving is considerably faster, but the après ski traffic jams can be a major hassle. The town itself is attractive and easily navigated, with the base area ~10 minutes away from the center by foot. We stayed at the Hotel Spannort, a family-run establishment with great rooms and fantastic food. The most lively après ski was found at the Yucatan Bar near the train station.

The ski area in Engelberg, known as Titlis, is somewhat handicapped by the sheer verticalness of the terrain. The 2500 vertical feet between the base station and Trübsee aren't really navigable. A crowded, rather flat marked run winds far away from the cliffs to reach the base, but it's not much fun to ski (trail number 5 and 6, see the trailmap). One good descent may exist in this area: from the top of Laubersgrat it appears that one can make a spectacular 3900' descent around the edge of the cliffs down a wide sloping field called Laub.

Unfortunately, a complete lack of snow both on and off-piste made it difficult for us to ski anything interesting on the mountain. The marked runs at Engelberg are quite narrow, making this mountain a poor choice on crowded days. The summit at Klein Titlis offers spectacular views and hiking access to an insanely steep knife ridge, which we didn't dare attempt without better snow and a guide. The only marked descent from Klein Titlis funnels into Rotegg, a narrow section of rocky, glacial ice covered with more fallen bodies than able skiers.

Apparently the off-piste skiing at Engelberg is phenomenal, and was recently discovered by American film crews like TGR and Warren Miller. Perhaps we'll have time to try a return voyage later in the season.

Flims - Laax

2006-01-23T14:28:00.000-08:00

(part of my guide to skiing the alps)

Flims and Laax are neighboring ski towns in the western part of the Graubünden region, about two hours from Zürich via public transport. Frequent trains to Chur connect directly to waiting PostAuto buses. Traffic can get snarled on weekends, which makes the lack of a train unfortunate, but it's well worth the hassle: Laax is hands-down our favorite place to ski in eastern Switzerland on a powder day.

Both Flims and Laax are relatively small towns, with only a few restaurants, bars, and clubs. If you're lucky enough to meet a local, you might discover that they speak Romansh, one of Switzerland's four official languages. Fewer than 70,000 people can understand it, but it's well-loved by the Swiss as part of their national identity.

The après ski scene is fun, of course, but we didn't find much serious nightlife apart from a mashup hostel/hotel/bar/club called the Riders' Palace in Laax. It's clearly marketed at the huge crowds of snowboarders for whom Flims-Laax is a major destination: their rooms feature bunk beds, Sony PlayStations, and video projectors. No joke.

More important, of course, is the mountain itself. While the snowboard kiddies dork around playing video games, you'll be hopping deep powder turns all around the mountain. 6300' vertical feet, 11 gondolas and trams, and the usual sense of vastness that one finds skiing in the Alps.

On our first visit, the two most attractive lifts were closed all weekend, but we found plenty of waist-deep powder all around the lower mountain, even under the central Crap Sogn Gion six-pack chairlift (trailmap). Stay far to the skiers' left of the chairlift as you enter the trees for some of our favorite turns and jumps (see photo). On limited-visibility days, forests like these are your best bet, but the avalanche risk remains: be prepared.

On our next visit, we had a great run down Cassons, 5200' above the town of Flims. Gorgeous cliffs tower over a continuously steep 2700' wide face, which looked as if it would remain untracked for days. Lines can be long, but it's probably worth the wait on a powder day.

The best pure snow quality, however, was to be found near a marked off-piste descent, number 74 on the map. Coming down from Nagens, you end up skiers' right of the major cliff band; keep high and far to the right for fluffy happiness. Alternatively, take the Grauberg tram up and ski down piste number 10 past Segneshütte. Head towards the tram tower on the right side of the piste, and you can drop down the left side of the aforementioned cliff band. Stay in the trees below the bowl if you like, or cut right anytime to rejoin number 74.

Finally, if there's fresh snow, you should head up to the Vorab glacier for two classic descents. First, drop over the saddle towards Alp Ruschein along piste 35, but quickly traverse skiers' right into a huge, mellow bowl. After picking a fresh line down, keep skiers' right of the piste and zip through rolling hills to the bottom. 4,100' beautiful vertical feet, but be warned that the lift back up to Crap Masegn is painfully slow.

Even more exciting is the Vorab Pign, a small peak below the Vorab Glacier. Follow piste 35 to the saddle again, but hike up the ridge for 10 minutes to catch both the spectacular views and the fresh turns down ski route 77. For the lazy, skip the hike by skiing a few meters below the saddle and then traversing high and left below Vorab Pign: the wind and rocks make it seem a bit treacherous, but the snow quality made it an easy crossing for us. Continuing around to the ridge allows you to drop in a bit below where route 77 is marked on the map, and the snow was even better here.

One final recommendation: if you have time, definitely try eating at La Vacca, a campy-looking steakhouse up on the mountain at Plaun. It's hard to miss: a giant Native American teepee replete with cowhide benches and cowboy waiters. The food is remarkably excellent, as is the atmosphere surreal.

Flumserberg

2006-01-23T13:33:00.000-08:00

(part of my guide to skiing the alps)

A small mountain just 45 minutes from Zürich, Flumserberg is not a major ski destination. However, its location makes it a nice choice for day trips and learning backcountry skills. It has ~10 legitimate ski lifts spanning 2700 vertical feet, but none of the marked runs are particularly memorable. Check out the Flash-based trailmap for an overview.

As with most resorts in the Alps, the off-piste opportunities at Flumserberg are more impressive than they first appear: much terrain exists between runs and in the nearby hills. Of course, despite having the appearance of a mellow beginner's resort, serious avalanche dangers persist if you stray from the marked runs: a slide last weekend injured three and killed one (news report in German).

From Alp Panüöl, you can walk/skin/skate 30 minutes away from the resort to Alp Fursch, whose friendly staff can tell you a bit about the nearby backcountry (and provide accommodation with full board).

The hill tends to get really crowded on weekends: two of my colleagues once found a rather long ticket line at the base station in Unterterzen. Observing the pace of the line for a few minutes, they calculated that it would take over two hours to reach the front. They turned around and drove home.

Apart from skiing, the mountain is beautifully situated on a lake called the Walensee, behind which steeply rise the beautiful Churfirsten mountains (see photos).

Arlberg (St. Anton / Lech)

2006-01-23T13:31:00.000-08:00

(part of my guide to skiing the alps)

The Arlberg region of western Austria is a vast interconnected maze of 86 lifts and trams, including 174 miles (280 km) of marked runs. The region is divided by a steep ridge, which effectively partitions it into two separate areas. On the south side lies St. Anton, which is conveniently on a major train route, 2:20 east of Zürich. Lech is the central hub of the north side, and has no Bahnhof; take a bus from the train station in Langen am Arlberg, one stop west of St. Anton.

St. Anton

St. Anton is a mixture of quaint Austrian charm and drunk British tourists. Many buildings and hotels seem classically Tirolean, perched on narrow, hilly roads in the Oberdorf part of town. Taxis are more useful and prevalent here than in places like Davos. Bars like the Funky Chicken mostly cater to the obnoxious fratboy crowd, but the town abounds with great après ski: don't be surprised to see a few hundred pairs of skis and boards outside the Mooserwirt at 3pm.

Take two trams up from the town (1304m) to the summit of Vallugagrat (2650m) for a phenomenal 4400' descent through Schindler Kar or Mattunjoch. These aren't just a pair of ordinary runs: they surround an enormous, consistently steep face with enough room for a hundred pairs of fresh tracks. If the upper lifts are closed, you can still reach the lower part of Mattunjoch from the nearby Kapall lift.

When high winds and avy danger kept the upper mountain closed, we found great powder under the top of the Arlenmähder lift and all the way down the Valfagehr, both of which are closer to the town of St. Christoph but easily reached from St. Anton.

In such a vast area as Arlberg, the weather varies considerably from peak to peak. A good refuge from the crowds and weather is the small Rendl area opposite the main St. Anton slopes. By "small", I mean more than 4000 vertical feet of wide open bowls and rock gardens. We spent a sunny afternoon making laps on the Riffel lift (actually two back-to-back lifts) while most of Arlberg was shrouded in fog (see photo). Watch out for massive rocks: the powder looks soft, but an errant jump resulted in Kyle planting his ass on a hidden rock, causing an impressive hematoma.

Lech

On the other side of the divide, Lech seems quiet by comparison, perhaps catering to an older crowd. Decent après ski, but the streets were completely dead after dark. We had a fun evening at Schneggarei, a cool raw wood and cement Skihütte with decent modern food and a younger twentysomething crowd. We were convinced the town lacked anything in the way of cute ski bunnies until we saw a fantastic ski instructors' calendar put together by the local ski school, which we immediately purchased (because the proceeds benefit local avalanche rescues, of course...)

Snow was suspiciously lacking during the February weekend when we hit Lech, which forced us to stay entirely on-piste. However, like St. Anton, the vast terrain seems like it would support plenty of fresh tracks after a big storm. The four towns of Lech, Oberlech, Zürs, and Zug are well-connected by various ski lifts, so the region advertises a route called Der Weiße Ring ("the white ring") that links the towns. Their Flash website (despite the retarded soundtrack) has a good animation describing the various components of the route: click on "Die Strecke" to watch it. At a minimum, a loop around the ring involves 16,000' vertical feet and 12 miles of ski lifts, but you'll want to stop and explore the various slopes along the way, including a fun descent from Muggengrat down the Zürser Täli to Zürs.

None of the marked runs in Lech are advanced, so unless you're hitting the powder, it's all mellow groomers. Which, on a bluebird sunny day, is just fine... you can't have powder all the time. Whipping giant slalom turns around "der weiße Ring" was plenty of fun, at least until Alex literally broke his binding in half. Don't forget to stop for a Radler (lager beer mixed with Sprite) at the lively Bergrestaurant Palmenalpe (see photo below), located at the summit of the Zugerberg lift.

Davos / Klosters

2006-01-23T13:27:00.000-08:00

(part of my guide to skiing the alps)

Davos is a modern, relatively large Swiss ski town in the Graubünden region. It's easily reachable by train from Zürich in about two hours, changing trains once in Landquart. Lots of modern hotels and shops, plenty of buses to get around. Klosters is the other notable town in this ski area, but it's less of a destination than Davos: you'll probably just pass through it on your way to the slopes.

Five separate mountains are included in this region, some of which are accessible from Davos and some from Klosters. From Davos, you can reach Parsenn and Jakobshorn, both of which have great powder and runs: try them both. Parsenn is the biggest mountain in the area, accessible from both Davos and Klosters. Some runs at Parsenn actually drop you in the remote towns of Saas and Küblis, from which you can take regular trains back to Davos.

In January, our most memorable descent ran through steep cattle fields and farmhouses above the village of Saas. From the base of the Schifer gondola at Parsenn, we started taking piste 56 toward Küblis (trail map), dropping off the main run after about 5 minutes. A 1500' descent ensued through untracked waist-deep powder, as we jumped over old fences and passed by farmhouses, not quite sure where we were headed. At the bottom, we were trapped by a small river, which we crossed easily enough in a shallow rocky section; it would probably have been too swollen in the late season. A short hike along the river led us on a path to the train station at Saas, about 15 miles down the valley from Davos.

On another weekend in early March, we suffered through lashing storms. In North America, it's easy to find refuge from fog and wind by skiing the trees; the Alps seldom offer such luxuries, with most terrain above the treeline. We found a few interesting turns in the trees below Schwarzalp, cutting the switchbacks around piste 49 in the Parsenn area. Not surprisingly, we ended up a few kilometers from the nearest ski lift: easy to do in such vast ski areas.

The next day at Jakobshorn was a bit clearer. We revisited a few great runs in the trees between the Fuxägufer and Jakobshornbahn lifts (trailmap), catching a few hikers by surprise as we sped across their path in a powdery blur. All pure bliss, except one unfortunate run which led to a drainage blocked every fifty meters by rock walls. Good luck avoiding it: I believe it's the minor shaded valley that begins directly below the letters "lp" in the word "Ischalp" on the map.

Even more entertaining was a run below the Clavadeler Alp restaurant. We tried to loosely follow piste 10, enjoying the nearby trees, but stuck to the fall line as the piste swung sharply to the right. The turns were glorious, but we ended up at a road some 5 or 10 kilometers outside of town. Yet another brief hike led us to the bus stop at Clavadel, where we waited no more than 10 minutes for an easy ride back to Davos.

Check out Pistehors for detailed notes on off-piste routes the Davos - Klosters area.

Skiing the Alps

2006-01-08T05:43:00.000-08:00

Jeremy's Guide to Skiing the Alps

I spent the 2005-2006 ski season travelling around the Alps, collecting photos and notes about a few of the major ski areas. If you're planning a ski holiday and hoping to find sick powder and deep turns, read on...

Overview
- Highlights
- Annoyances
Eastern Alps
- Flims - Laax
- St. Anton - Lech (Arlberg)
- Davos - Klosters
- Engelberg - Titlis
- Flumserberg
Western Alps
- The Haute Route (Chamonix - Zermatt in 6 days)
- Chamonix
- Verbier (4 Vallées)

Highlights

Size

Alpine ski areas can be enormous, with more lifts, runs, and skiable acres than you could hit in a week. A single "ski area" might actually be comprised of a dozen interconnected mountains and towns, with 100 lifts, a few hundred miles of marked runs, and tens of thousands of skiable acres. It would be as if all Tahoe-area resorts were connected by cable cars and trams, so you could ski from Heavenly around Emerald Bay up to Homewood, cruising through Squaw on your way to Truckee for dinner.

Oh, and you want vertical? Try 7,250 feet at Zermatt.

Accessibility

Ever tried skiing at Lake Tahoe on a weekend? You might end up spending 10 hours driving in a storm from San Francisco to Truckee (180 miles), or an hour crawling along the Alpine Meadows access road (~3 miles).

Welcome to the world of efficient public transportation. From Zürich, you can reach St. Anton or Davos by train in just over two hours, no stress. The train station is a short 10 minute walk from the slopes. By comparison, US resorts like Jackson Hole, Durango Mountain, and Squaw Valley are many miles away from the nearest real towns: at their bases lie smarmy, expensive "villages" full of timeshare condominiums. Many classic Alpine ski towns were inhabited ~100 years before skiing became a global industry.

Powder

Finding fresh tracks at 4pm in a US resort can be a rare feat, except perhaps in huge unmarked areas like the Hobacks at Jackson Hole.

Most European skiers, however, prefer to ski groomed runs, which makes "powder days" more like "powder weeks". Hasn't snowed for 3 days? Not a problem: without too much effort, you can find a long untracked descent.

To be fair, it's far riskier to ski "off-piste" here than in the US, because only the marked runs are patrolled and controlled for avalanches. There's no concept of "in-bounds" or "out-of-bounds" in the Alps: anything that's not a marked run is effectively backcountry, with the consequent risks and lack of rescue services. Be prepared.

Annoyances

Chaotic Lift Lines

Nobody likes waiting to ride a lift. On the positive side, lift tickets are checked automatically in the Alps, with high-tech turnstiles that detect a pass anywhere on your body and automatically open as you push through. Very cool.

What's missing in the Alps is distinctly low-tech: a maze of ropes and poles to manage the crowds. This brilliant invention ensures that all of the lines slowly and calmly merge together. The Euros, however, prefer an uncontrolled mob of pushing and stomping on skis: apparently it's a sign of weakness to let another skier merge in front of you.

Crowds

Many US ski areas refuse to sell more than a certain number of lift tickets each day, as otherwise the slopes would be too crowded. Not so in the Alps: during peak holiday periods, you'll be literally rubbing elbows with a hundred fellow skiers and snowboarders as you pole through flat sections of groomers.

caffè all'italiana

2005-12-13T08:58:00.000-08:00

Seven years ago, I lived in a fantastic 13th-century palazzo in the "centro storico" of Florence, Italy. To pay the rent each month, I kept thick wads of 100,000 lire banknotes stashed in my pockets until we could arrange a handoff with the landlord. Too bad I became a software engineer instead of a drug dealer.

At 1700 lire/dollar, my roommates and I each paid ~$400/month, half of what it cost back on campus in California. A typical lunch of pasta and wine cost a few dollars, so we ate, drank, and lived like kings.

Visiting Florence in October and Rome last weekend, it was impressive to see how little things had changed, with two notable exceptions:

21-year old college students seems a lot younger now
Italy is no longer a bargain

I suppose it's natural that the Euro should normalize prices somewhat, and that centralized European monetary policy keeps the Italian central bank from endlessly deflating their currency. And I'm far from an underpaid student these days... but €3,50 for a caffè espresso near the Colloseum?

Ah well. The trick, as always, is to drink coffee standing at the bar, in fine Italian tradition: still €0,60 baby!

Rome was fun, by the way. Highly recommended: the Basilica di San Clemente. Though somewhat ordinary on the surface level, the church was built on top of an older church from the 9th century, which was itself built atop a Mithraic pagan temple from the 1st century. You could wander the creepy, narrow corridors for hours.

Photos galore

2005-12-01T10:18:00.000-08:00

I finally got around to uploading a slew of new photos... a few artsy shots around Zürich, a few shots from a weekend in Florence and Cinque Terre last October, early snaps of the pimpin' new apartment that Alex and I now inhabit, and finally, an impromptu photo shoot of Toni, a whirlwind of Norwegian energy who joined us for an inaugural dinner at the new apartment.

It's always a good sign when you've got more stories to tell than time to write about them.

Neighborly Relations

2005-10-02T13:32:00.000-07:00

Zuerichers aren't known for being especially fond of their neighbors. A typical apartment building relies on complex rules to keep its residents happily coexisting, regulating everything from laundry hours to toilet flushing.

Three months ago, one of my neighbors decided to post an comically indignant letter by the elevator. It's still there today. Click on the image above to see the original German, or read my feeble attempt at translating:

Dear Honorable Ladies and Gentlemen,

Unfortunately I must report that, to my great horror, the outside wall of my veranda and part of the floor are coated with a sticky film, rather like an oil slick. Several huge patches are visible along the facade and canopy.

Of course it's completely and entirely unacceptable that any rubbish, crud, or oil-like fluids be thrown on the porch, which, after all, is not a waste dump.

I expect the person who caused this swinish mess to report themselves to me, to apologize and to arrange for a thorough cleaning of my veranda.

Presumably the culprit remains at large. Luckily I don't live directly above her apartment, so I can keep disposing of my motor oil and cooking grease on the patio.

Berlin

2005-09-02T14:46:00.000-07:00

Lonely Planet writes:

"Zürich is the new Berlin. No hesitation, no competition. This formerly staid banking capital has experienced such a creative explosion in recent years, and such a mushrooming of innovative bars, restaurants and shops that it resembles Berlin's salad days of the mid-eighties and early nineties."

A bold claim indeed. So I spent a weekend in Berlin with Julie and her lovely German friends, who were getting married that Saturday. The bride's brother, Lars, showed us around Kreuzberg, which is a bit like San Francisco's Mission District. Every year the locals organize riots on the 1st of May, gleefully looting and smashing shop windows, burning cars and fighting the police. Fun for the whole family!

Lars, who works with abuse victims and runs a nonprofit gallery / music space for local artists, took us out Thursday night. Accompanied by a one-armed abuse victim and a hipster French artist, we drove to Tacheles, one of Julie's favorite high-school haunts. Ten years ago, it was a decomposing concrete building complex in the Mitte district of East Berlin. Its broken windows, power outages, old industrial vehicles, and secret entrance through a hole in the fence were typical of East Berlin in the 90's. While the rest of Mitte has now been restored and yuppified into condos and lounge bars, Tacheles still maintains a charming concrete-industrial feel. There's now a proper front door and a website, but such is life.

While Julie lamented the end of Mitte's underground glory days, I was duly impressed. Crazy experimental artists inhabit many of the floors, with crowded bars tucked away in some corners. We listened to painfully loud punk/electronic music in a sweaty ground-floor cafe, heated by a giant firebreathing dragon looming over the bar.

Friday evening we met Lars at an art exhibition, with disturbingly explicit paintings, including Jesus in action as a porn star. At a nearby bar, we were introduced to the local rockabilly music scene, as a dozen eerily similar dudes with 50's-style sculpted hair turned the place into a mosh pit. Julie and I ran for cover, but Lars and his friend jumped right in, explaining that it was "friendly" moshing.

We were there to hear El Ray, a Danish surf 'n' roll band who introduced each of their songs with wild-eyed enthusiasm and dramatic pauses:

"THE NEXT SONG!!!"

"IS ABOUT!!!"

"PEOPLE WHO FALL FROM THE SKY!!!"

"AND THEY HURT YOU!!!!"

"PARACHUTERS!!!!!!!"

Finally, late on Saturday night, after a typically marathon European wedding party, we hit up Prenzlauer Berg, another East Berlin neighborhood. We follow a cute girl biking along with a ping-pong paddle in her hand, as she leads us to an unmarked building. Inside, we find a concrete room with a single ping-pong table in the middle, watched closely by dozens of hipsters. The crowd eerily converges at the end of the match, moving around the table in a circle and hitting the ball back and forth to determine who plays next. Later I discover that they too have a website.

Conclusion? Zürich is no Berlin. It's all but impossible to compete with a city so heavily shaped by the political events of our generation. Zürich has its moments, for sure, but Berlin simply kicks ass. Photos here.

Oh, and I managed to hold a girl's attention for 30 minutes -- speaking only in German -- at the wedding party. But don't get too excited: my record with Swiss girls stands at 10 minutes. So far, crazy expats remain my specialty.

Zürich Street Parade 2005

2005-08-14T09:29:00.000-07:00

Things get a bit crazy when the population of your city quadruples for a weekend. It was a bit too messy for me to use the big guns, but my trusty old pocket camera found a few interesting people to capture on film. More Swiss pictures coming soon...