Behind us, there are imposing cliffs streaked, with snow. The village is streaked with impossibly narrow streets; and the lodges made from logs in abundance. Picture perfect.
And the colours here tell us it’s a good place to ski. A ride to the top; I can’t wait So few people in sight. A sight to behold.
It comes with great effort to this climb. A final ride to the top. We turn with an easy glide. Snow from the tips of the mount are so near and I am whispering in awe; my frozen breath barely breaking this calm.
The chair takes us back down the mountain and beyond, above the tree line slopes. But we’re aiming for the descent back down to the rustic warmth of Areches.