That's unlucky - it's a beautiful area when you can see it, something that I miss in the Eastern US ski areas. (Predominantly below the tree-line).

But that's mountain weather for you...

That reminds me of a story from my stay with a couple of friends in Val Thorens. (For those who don't know, VT is the highest resort in Europe, and is about 500m (vertically) up the valley from Les Menuires.)

We'd spent the morning skiing down to and in Les Menuires, and had eaten lunch there. In the early afternoon, an unpredicted storm suddenly moved in, and lifts started to shut down. We obviously started to panic about getting back up the valley, and hotfooted it to any lift that was going vaguely in the right direction for us to be able to traverse back to VT. We did very well for an hour or so, until we got to the last lift that we needed to take, whereapon it shut down whilst we were in line.
At this point, we (and a few hundred other people in the same boat) realise that we're 'only' at the wrong end of a red run (US - single black diamond) from being able to ski a blue run down into VT. Like sheep, we start following the herd, walking up this bloody steep red run with skis and poles slung over our shoulders. At some point the snow started to fall and get blown about by the increasing winds. It's probably difficult to visualise, but there were literally hundreds of people laboring up a mountain during a snow storm.

After about 30 minutes of this I was knackered. My back was killing me and every step was painful. And I could work out that we were only about 1/3 of the way up the run. My doubts started to grow as to the sanity of our adventure, and more I thought about it, the more nagging they became. So I shouted at my 2 friends to stop. At this point, I should mention that we were all Scout Leaders at the time.

I observed that we were making slow progress up a steep mountain during a snowstorm with dusk approaching. And that we were at about 8000 feet altitude, with no torches, no emergency sacks, no e-rations, no compass, no decent map (only a piste map), no water etc. And that if any of our Scouts even *thought* about attempting such an endeavour under such circumstances that *we'd* kill them.

It really was an epiphany. We took a couple of minutes to get our breath back, during which time we watched hordes of people continuing their crazy ascent, including some people whom we'd befriended in our hotel. We suggested that they were going the wrong way, but they continued on up the mountain. Then we put on our skis and went the other way, back down to Les Menuires.

We had about 30 minutes of the best skiing all week. Although visibility was reduced and goggles were necessary, the piste was covered with a couple of inches of virgin powder, and we had it all to ourselves. Even the notorious 'kamikaze' bowl entering the resort was empty.

So we get back to LM, and discover that the local bus company is contracted to give free rides up the valley when the lifts get shut early. There was obviously going to be a long wait, so we went and warmed up in a bar for a while, and eventually got on the bus about an hour later. 45 minutes after that, just after we've finished storing our ski gear in the locker room, our friends stumbled in, looking like Death. They had just got back, nearly two and a half hours after we'd last seen them. It turned out that when they'd got to the top of the red run, the wind had been against them, and they'd had to push themselves all the way down the blue run too.

When I think back, I still can't believe just how crazy a horde of people can be. I'm amazed that more people don't die in such circumstances.