I love skiing. Like, really love it. So, a week in Chamonix last spring with a group of climber friends who had invited me to tag along was really a no-brainer. Their goal was to climb as many routes around Aiguille du Midi as possible and mine was to ski until my legs fell off.
Since it was early April, I tweaked my expectations to match the conditions. Obviously, fluffy powder was out of the question, but I was sort of looking forward to plowing through fields of soft spring slush. Kind of a poor man’s pow, am I right?