Season Diary - Day 32 & 33

Sunday 20th and Monday 21st April, 2025 - Flaine, France

And so it goes. One final last hurrah for this amazing season. Off to celebrate with colleagues back in Flaine, making use of the Ski Club's chalets and the last two days of the resort's lift operations.

This was a weekend just to stop. To enjoy the skiing, to share a beer, or rosé, or many of either, with friends all of whom have worked their socks off throughout the season.

Working in the ski industry is a funny old thing, as I imagine any seasonal industry is. For six or so months every year we are slammed, desperately keeping plates spinning and without any bandwidth whatsoever to plan, to roll out new projects, or even at times to think. There is only time to do, to write, to maintain a website, to run holidays, to manage insurance and, occasionally, to ski.

Opposing this is six months of calm and quiet, where strategy is crafted, plans are concocted, and projects are dreamt up.

To mark this transition from mania to Mantra, how better than to drink and ski away the Easter weekend?

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Not going to lie, there wasn't a huge amount of skiing done. Whilst a couple of metres of snow had fallen in an incredible meteorological display in the days leading up to our departure, Flaine's relatively low altitude meant that a lot of this had melted by the time we arrived. Good conditions still reined up top, but we were picking our way over mud patches at the very bottom.

Faust was still brilliant, as was Diablotin, the latter with four inches of fresh powder on top to make it fun, surfy, exhilarating, an extra challenge to this at-times-rolly and at-times-narrowing red run. Don't get me wrong, when we did ski, we skied, tackling moguls and powder and ice and corduroy and everything you'd expect from late season skiing. But you can have too much of a good thing, so short, sharp ski days were the order of the day; Monday in particular kicked off at midday and drew to a close at 3pm.

So instead we sought salvation at the bottom of a bottle of rosé. Did we find it? I think the jury's still out.

Anyway. This makes a wrap on what has been an incredible season. 33 ski days in total, by far the most of any winter that wasn't my season (when I skied nearly every day for three months). I've skied amazing new destinations, returned to some fabulous old favourites, and, at every turn - and I mean every turn - I've skied with an incredible cast of characters who have made every day unique and fun and truly, truly special. Old friends, diligent PR reps, and dear and trusted colleagues all came together to make this season what it was.

Maybe it is possible to never have too much of a good thing?

I'm off to plot and scheme, and maybe find sobriety ... at least until next winter comes around.

Til next time,

Get flipped.

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