I’ve always loved being in the mountains, but nothing prepared me for the moment I stood at the top of the Vallée Blanche in Chamonix, part of the French Mont Blanc massif.
For those who know the mountains, skiing isn’t just a sport. It’s an invitation into a world most people never reach, where crisp air fills your lungs, peaks stretch endlessly into the sky, and silence falls heavier than snow.
The first time I skied the Vallée Blanche (AKA the White Valley), I genuinely lost my breath – and it wasn’t just the altitude. Standing at the top of the Aiguille du Midi, nearly 4,000 metres up, the Alps stretched out in every direction. Aiguille du Dru, Dent du Géant, Grand Capucin and Grandes Jorasses – these dramatic granite spires loomed above the valley. Jagged peaks broke through the clouds, and below, a ribboned seam of untouched snow wound its way through icefalls and crevasses, waiting to be carved.
View image in fullscreen View image in fullscreen Going up: the Aiguille du Midi cable c
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