
After a warm summer of biking, climbing, hiking and anticipation, winter is finally here. Big fluffy flakes have been tumbling on and off for the last 72 hours; temperatures have been yo-yoing either side of zero and there's a solid 15cm down here at valley level, 1050m.
This is excellent news for everyone. Skibums are arriving in the resort to snowy trees and white expanses, glimpses of serpentine, powder-filled couloirs and frosted cliff faces. The mobile snowtyre-fitting guys are booked out, their vans scurrying around busily all day. Shop tills are ringing with people taking advantage of preseason bargains, and Chamonix high street has shod it's summery greyness and become a picture postcard again. It's a relief to see it deep, crisp and even after the periodic snowdroughts of the last couple of years.
As I write, the skies have broken blue and the first skintracks are appearing up the front face of Les Houches and Le Tour from those too excited to wait. Crests of sunlight are illuminating the newly-formed cornices of the Aiguilette des Houches and the Brévent ridgeline, and the whole valley is gently vibrating with the expectation of soon-to-come turns; of powder mornings, cruisey piste afternoons and touring missions. It's impossible not to be affected by the stoke that runs beneath this valley of passionate mountain people.











