La Cavale d'Oris France
Getting up at 5:30 am can be difficult, especially on a Thursday when you know you’re going to have to go to class later. Is it worth it? The answer depends on what you’re doing- if it’s an opportunity to skin into the backcountry, and forget the contents of your lengthy ‘to-do’ list, I say absolutely.
One of the things I have come to deeply appreciate about the hike up is the peace that seems to arrive with the snow, draping the forest in a thick white blanket that absorbs all sound. The soft swish of skis sliding, the sound of your own breathing as you inhale another deep lungful of sweet mountain air. It’s rhythmic, it’s meditative, and for me it’s entrancing.
The popularity of backcountry appears to have risen meteorically along with the production of powder skiing movies, yet I feel there is something to be said for the older philosophy of ‘earn your turns’. Luckily for me I got plenty of time for self-reflection as we steadily made our way up 1200 m of elevation gain. As much as I love the forest, it was awe-inspiring to rise first out of tree line, and then above cloud cover, when all of a sudden massive, stunning peaks appeared from the mist under clear blue sunny skies. Magic.
As we carried on up the final ascent we spotted a group of chamois (European mountain goats) making their way up the ridge opposite us in the same snaking line formation, yet moving markedly faster. Up high the snow had a fresh soft layer from the precipitation the night before, encouraging me to climb to the summit of la Cavale d’Oris at 2160 m in the Armet Coiro chain. The wind was calm, having only created the lightest crust on particularly exposed sections.
After a brief snack/ photo op at the top, we stripped off the skins and prepared for the descent. Despite the new snow, the snow pack was quite shallow in some areas which we gingerly traversed, trying not to leave too much of our ski bases behind. But once we passed that by, oh how nice it was to find those steep untouched lines, and gaze back up with satisfaction at the interlocking ‘s’ curves etched on the surface.
I was reminded once again near the bottom that I am no longer in Canada when we crossed a little stream that I was surprised to see wasn’t frozen. Normally we Canadians don’t have to worry about trickles of water in the winter! To the amusement of my companions I almost fell in, legs splayed wide straddling the rocky, muddy bed below; have no fear, I saved my skis if not my pride.
Unfortunately I cannot tell you how to get there, just that it was beautiful. One of the conditions for me joining this trip was that I had to promise not to go sharing all their trade secrets with the internet, but I managed to negotiate a description with a few photos for your reading pleasure. The bounty of skiable terrain in the region is substantial enough for four major ski stations and then some, so if you’re anxious to get out there, with a bit of research there will be no problem finding something suitable. 