An all-access trip with the ski patrol operating at the global epicentre of big-mountain culture.
words :: Feet Banks // photos: Olly Bowman
Get out of the way, you tossers!”
We’re in Chamonix, the undisputed mecca of big, burly, preconception-shattering ski mountaineering. It’s our second day in-country. Clear skies, fresh snow, perfect. Except not quite.
“Get off the run!”
English people keep yelling at me. Actually, they’re yelling at all three of us—me, snowboarder Eric Greene and Rich Stoner, our new buddy from New Jersey who runs a media empire dedicated entirely to après ski. We’re not doing anything. The ski run is easily 40 feet wide. Better call it 13.72 metres, because Europe. We are just stopped and waiting for the rest of our Helly Hansen crew.
“Move off!”
Chamonix is the beating heart of extreme ski and shred freedom, a place where the sports are pushed further than perhaps anywhere else on the planet, but that’s beyond the resort ropes. Here, on-piste, at Balme, one of three main ski resorts in the valley, the local tradition (or maybe it’s just the English tourists’ tradition) seems to be that anyone stopping on a ski run ought to do so on the side, very much on the very edge of the side, regardless of how much room other skiers have to go around.
Instead of moving over, we just start skiing again, but local customs are a funny thing. Mountain staff in Chamonix will holler like heck and even shut down the chairlift if you don’t lower the safety bar immediately after boarding the chair, like one second after. Meanwhile, local skiers skin and bootpack up steep, stunning (and non-avalanche-controlled) chutes just a few hundred meters away and no one bats an eyelid.
“Remember what the van driver told us,” Seb Ramsay, a UK journalist and total ripper, chuckles at my ignorance and disbelief of the local customs. “If it makes sense, it’s not French.”
But that was day two, a free day (thanks to the “ski free” voucher that came with my brand-spanking-new Helly Hansen outerwear) with no agenda other than to shred Balme, try not to get yelled at and maybe drink the odd personal-size bottle of Jägermeister with Erik Meusburger, a retired Norwegian ski racer turned Helly product manager. “They sell these in every café right by the cash till,” he points out, handing me a tiny bottle, “so they must want us to drink them.”
I also discover that, when they’re not yelling at people, the average European tourist over here seems utterly unmotivated to leave the groomed, marked on-piste runs. So, after checking the snowpack and feeling good, our crew spends the afternoon blissfully lapping sunny powdery glades. Fresh turns all day, and if we’d skied past the lift and into the valley, we’d have ended up in Switzerland.
“Remember what the van driver told us,” Seb Ramsay, a UK journalist and total ripper, chuckles at my ignorance and disbelief of the local customs. “If it makes sense, it’s not French.”
Chamonix, what a place.
In the beginning, the little village at the base of Mount Blanc was only a big deal for summer visitors, with a mountain guiding company established as early as 1821. Things changed, they say, in 1893 when a Norwegian showed up with a pair of wooden skis and inspired a few locals to hand-carve some of their own. Originally using skis as a means of winter travel to visit patients throughout the valley, Dr. Michel Payot is considered the first true skier of the region. In 1903 he was part of the team of skiers that linked Chamonix, France, to Zermatt, Switzerland, on a high-alpine traverse that later became known as the Haute Route, probably the most famous alpine ski route in the world.
In 1929 the valley played host to the inaugural Winter Olympic Games, which coincided with the completion of the first section of the Aiguille du Midi cable car. Mont Blanc, the Haute, the Aiguille du Midi—for any contemporary skier, even one who rarely leaves the BC Coast Mountains, these names are canonical and the mountains of Chamonix are spoken of with a mix of awe and reverence. Every serious ski mountaineer, pro shredder or mountain guide worth his or her salt has made the pilgrimage to this valley of ultimate seriosity. Chamonix-Mont-Blanc is the mecca of big mountain culture and sport.
Mont Blanc, the Haute, the Aiguille du Midi—for any contemporary skier, these names are canonical and the mountains of Chamonix are spoken of with a mix of awe and reverence.
I can see why. “Imagine taking the Tantalus Range,” I texted to my friends back home, “and lining it up beside Mount Currie, Wedge, Whistler Blackcomb and Atwell. Now make everything 25 to 30 per cent higher… That’s one side of the valley.”
Day one started in the dark. And in the rain. 06:30 at the base of Les Grands Montets, one of the larger, steeper Cham resorts. Our job was simple: tag along with the Grands Montets ski patrol from bell to bell—open the resort, close the resort—and report on it. The subtext of the story being that if the Chamonix ski patrol—some of the best on the planet in the epicentre of ski mountaineering culture and terrain—trust and choose Helly Hansen gear day in and day out, it’s probably more than good enough for you and me.
Now, by definition, blatantly stating the subtext of a story may be journalistically irresponsible (but so is going on company-provided trips). Let the record show, however: I’ve never been one to follow the rules (and only a fool says no to a trip to Chamonix).
Besides, standing in the rain in the dark in centre of the skiing universe is a pretty good way to field test your outerwear. Helly Hansen has been working on an inherently waterproof, forever-chemical-free LIFA Infinity Pro fabric for the past few years, and it seems like they figured it out to me.
“That’s one of the things I like,” explains Marcus Caston, a Helly team skier since 2012. “I pick an outfit I like and stick with it through the entire winter—sunny, rainy, hot, cold, après, whatever. I don’t want six jackets in my bag. I want versatile gear that works.”
Our ski patrol escort, Laurent Langoisseur, arrives and whisks our dozen-strong crew into the Plan Joran gondola. Halfway up the rain turns to snow, but it’s still pitch black. The early bird doesn’t get the worm in Chamonix, it gets to go up the mountain first.
With about 70 full-time professionals across all resorts in the valley, Chamonix patrol responds to about 1,000 calls a year, with Grands Montets seeing about 350 to 400 of those. “Some are sprained wrists or knees,” Laurent explains. “Some are rescues. If we can access people who go off-piste we will, but if we need skins or anything we call mountain rescue.” Aka Peloton de Gendarmerie de Montagne, a fully funded local search and rescue service operated as a branch of the French military.
For North American shredders used to resorts like Whistler Blackcomb, the European concept of on-piste/off-piste may need some explaining (and I’m not even sure I understand it fully). Famous for its off-piste offerings, Les Grands Montets covers more than 1,800 hectares, most of it above treeline, and the resort tops out at 3,275 meters/10,745 feet. With so much wide-open terrain, patrollers here will perform avy control in and above the most skiable areas, then set poles to indicate runs considered safe and on-piste. Everything a foot or so beyond those bamboo markers however—you’re on your own.
For North American shredders used to resorts like Whistler Blackcomb, the European concept of on-piste/off-piste may need some explaining (and I’m not even sure I understand it fully).
Our first run is on-piste, a wide groomer with 12 to 15 cm (4 to 5 inches) of fresh snow. Ideal, except it’s still dark. Like really dark. “Just go straight for a few hundred metres and you will see the lights of the Lognan patrol hut,” Laurent tells us.
He hangs back and off we go, skiing almost blind in totally unfamiliar terrain. It’s a rush. I’m locked into every bump and sound, eyes desperately seeking—and not really finding—any visual frame of reference. Kinda, sorta able to follow Marcus Caston’s lead as the first dim glimmer of dawn wafts through the clouds, I make it to the patrol shack to celebrate a wild first run in Europe with coffee, fresh croissants and the morning patrol briefing.
Because France is inherently more stylish than Canada, head of patrol Christophe Boloyan is called the chef de piste, as if the ski experience at Les Grands Montets is a world-class meal that must be expertly prepared and served up on a silver platter. Which isn’t that far off, actually. With a dozen patrollers ready to go, Christophe explains that ski cutting will be patrol’s main avy control method today.
When needed they can also throw hand charges, utilize bomb trams or remote-fire explosions through a network of gas-filled pipes called Gazex positioned in hard-to-reach, snow-loaded zones above regular on-piste areas.
Daylight has arrived by the time we leave the meeting, and Laurent brings us to the top of the Bochard gondola for the kind of first tracks only ski patrollers get—unhurried, leisurely and perfect.
Because France is inherently more stylish than Canada, head of patrol Christophe Boloyan is called the chef de piste, as if the ski experience at Les Grands Montets is a world-class meal that must be expertly prepared and served up on a silver platter.
After noting a few fences and piste markers that need attention, Laurent takes us into the Enchanted Forest, an off-piste grove of larch trees offering fairytale pow turns that no one enjoys more than Marcus Caston, a huge proponent of the art of the turn.
“It goes beyond the turn,” he says. “You have the turn and then you have the transition—floating between turns—that is where the real magic happens.”
Racing-trained and originally skiing out of Snowbird, Utah, Caston lived in Switzerland for the past two winters, skiing all over the place and working on his web series, Return of the Turn. “What I like about it over here is the mountains are bigger, so it makes you more thoughtful about conditions and terrain and safety,” he says while pointing out some of classic (and incredibly burly) ski lines on the nearby Aiguille du Chardonnet. Caston has only been to Chamonix once before. The first time he was filming with Warren Miller, so today’s lines are substantially more chill—though he shreds the heck out of them and then points out his favourite ski-up raclette hut. We are so deprived on North American hills.
After lunch, Christophe, Laurent and whatever patrollers are not stationed atop the hill treat us to an avalanche-dog demonstration and some hands-on rescue-toboggan training. Maybe it’s because we are guests, maybe because it seems like a mellower day for skier visits and issues, maybe it’s because we’ve got fresh snow and the sun is starting to emerge, but Les Grands Montets ski patrol seem friendlier and more relaxed than some of their North American counterparts.
Or maybe it’s because we’re with Helly Hansen, who established International Ski Patrol Day in 2022 as an opportunity to celebrate patrollers around the globe. Who doesn’t like a little workplace recognition, especially when tragedy comes with the job?
“We had two deaths last week, both collisions,” says Laurent, a Chamonix local since 1987 who started patrolling in 1995 and has rescued people in every sort of terrain imaginable. “But those numbers are decreasing slowly. I think more signage is helping.”
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Our day shadowing patrol is thankfully accident-free, and we finish things off shooting photos off the top of the mountain with the Aiguille du Dru behind us. With its 3,754-metre summit, the Dru is one of Europe’s greatest rock climbs. I’ve grown up reading tales of harrowing adventure on its walls. Now, one ridge over, it’s almost close enough to touch (the only thing in the way is a steel cable and an all-time great-looking ski chute that requires a guide and a long bushwack to get out of). The vibe, the exaltation of Chamonix, everyone in town walking around with ice axes on their packs…it all makes sense.
As the sun dips below the mountains to the west, Laurent leads us on the final sweep to ensure the mountain is clear and free of anyone needing assistance. He says, “If we have enough ski patrol and we have one guy free, then we might send him through an area of off-piste that we know has been busy, but mostly—because that’s the rules—we want to clear the ski runs that we open to the public.”
Led by Marcus and crafty Danish ripper/new buddy Claus Madsen, we turn last sweep into a semi-chaotic free-for-all, slashing turns on ridges, hunting down patches of pow and spreading out wide enough to hopefully find anyone who’s lost or needs help, but not so wide that we get lost ourselves. Top to bottom on a closed ski hill is always a good time; in Chamonix it’s better. Plus, there was no one on the hill to yell at us when we stopped to collect the troops.
The secret to eating copious amounts of soul-elevating cheese and bread for every single meal is to be sure to eat the accompanying pickles and gherkins. The vinegar and fermentation help cut through the heavy oils and keep your digestive system from bunging up. See also: wine.
Still reeling from a feast of raclette (on top of the previous day’s feast of fondue), day three sees our crew convene at the Brévent side of Brévent-Flégère on a bluebird day with paragliders and chukkas (basically European mountain ravens) playfully catching updrafts. Sadly, the same winds have thwarted our goal of reaching the iconic Aiguille du Midi—the gondola is closed.
From Brévent, the views of Mont Blanc are spectacular and the lift lines are definitely more hectic that the North American crews are used to, with no real line, just a throng of people funneling in from all directions and stepping on each other’s gear. Elbows up!
The good news is Brévent-Flégère ski patrol have sectioned off an entire run for us, with race gates in place, for the first annual Helly Hansen First Tracks competition, two runs of giant slalom and two freeski runs on an adjacent knoll. With competitors—media and company employees—from all over the world and a wide mix of skill levels (and two people on snowboards), the event would be graded on a curve.
“We judged based on how someone skied to the ability level they had,” says Marcus, who co-judged with professional ski coach and guide Warren Smith. “Who can do the best with what they have?”
Ski Canada editor Lori Knowles crushes the GS course, with aggressive turns and a tight line. On the freeski pitch Claus Madsen and Øyvind Vedvik, Helly Hansen’s VP for sailing, both choose to hit the solitary (small) rock feature on the face, sacrificing turns for airtime in hopes of impressing the judges. Eric Greene, on a hotel rental snowboard from the early 2000s, flashes the whole slope in a single slash. A dark horse with zero competitive sports experience, I opt for line fluidity and link some nice-feeling turns down a steep section with a sneaky patch of untouched beside a tree.
The comp ends, après awaits—at the infamous Chambre Neuf, with booted skiers jumping on tables to a band playing what sounds like early 2000 punk-pop covers. Or Party & Bullsh*t, a hole-in-the-wall pub with (Seb discovers) another secret hole-in-the-wall back room within it. We pass ski legend Glen Plake’s apartment (he’s out of town) and catch more than a few influencer types attempting organized photoshoots on the bridge over the Arve River that runs right through town. For dinner, cheese and bread. What else?
Our airport shuttle leaves at 5 a.m. In total, this trip ends up working out to 40 hours of travel for about 80 hours in Chamonix. Worth every second, and fat snowflakes tumble through the night as we drive back to the Geneva airport. I get home and check my ski boot. Yes! It’s safe and sound. I don’t always win trophies for my skiing, but when I do they say “Chamonix” on them.
Sidebar 1: Europe Tips and Tricks with Marcus Caston
No stranger to Europe, extended ski trips or packing the right gear to shred hard, Helly Hansen team member Marcus Caston offers these tips for anyone heading out for a rip in the old country.
Bring your own skis.
Don’t roll the dice on rental boards, especially from your hotel. Chances are they’re all-mountain carvers for Euro tourists who want to stay on-piste.
Hire a guide.
They find the good snow, it’s safer and it’s more fun. It’s worth the cash to have a really great experience.
Roller duffel bags and ski bags.
Wheels on your gear make life easier getting your stuff around train stations and busses.
Enjoy the entire experience.
Stop for lunch, eat the food, try the wine, go to new places for après. There’s more to life, and Chamonix, than just skiing all day. Do it all.
Sidebar 2: Helly Hansen’s International Ski Patrol Day – Events Across Canada
Whistler Blackcomb: A Day in the Life of a Ski Patroller – Feb 10
Whistler Blackcomb will share a behind-the-scenes look at ski patrol operations through a social content series featuring Epic Adventure Traveler Hanna Hughes. Hughes will shadow a Whistler Blackcomb ski patroller, taking part in early-morning mountain preparation, daily debriefs, safety checks, and snowpack assessments, offering audiences an authentic look at patrol life.
Ski Patrol Thank-You Crosses – Feb 7-10
Participating resorts will install Ski Patrol Crosses, inviting guests to leave written messages of appreciation for local patrollers. All participants will receive a complimentary hot beverage at the activation site or a voucher for redemption. Crosses will appear at several major resorts, including Lake Louise, Marmot Basin, Kicking Horse, and Sun Peaks.
Sun Peaks x Helly Hansen Avalanche Awareness Day – Feb 7
Sun Peaks Resort and Helly Hansen will host the second annual Avalanche Awareness Day in recognition of International Ski Patrol Day. A limited number of resort guests will have the opportunity to participate in beacon training and snow safety demonstrations led by ski patrol, with all participants receiving Helly Hansen gear.
Kimberley Mountain Resort: “Patrol Pursuit” Scavenger Hunt – Feb 8
Kimberley Mountain Resort will host the Peak Patrol Scavenger Hunt, encouraging guests to explore the mountain in search of hidden patrol signs. Each sign found provides an entry into a contest to win $1,000 worth of Helly Hansen gear, rewarding both participation and adventure.
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