Val Thorens at the Chamjam

We're a proud people in VT, and not having a team for the Boss de Bosses hit us hard. Despite this we still managed to get the biggest turn out for the Chamjam of any resort excluding Chamonix itself.

Although, of the 52 seasonaires (and 1 punter, to whom we will get shortly) who came on the coach, only 9 actually watched the bumps competition. Cheering largely for Courchevel, on the grounds that it's 3 Valleys but not actually Meribel, whom we loathe with the same vigour as most Canadians do their larger, uncouth neighbour. (I am personally still a little put out that my anonymous tip-offs regarding the whereabouts of Osama Bin Ladin have not resulted in Mottaret receiving an airstrike).

Of the remaining 43, three had come purely to shop; and being slightly disappointed that Chamonix was not the Aladdin's Cave of crop-tops and hoodies they had expected, they quickly joined the other forty on a bar crawl. Two of whom, it turns out, had been under the impression they were going to Annecy.

Like most season workers, we take our drinking very seriously. To steal a lead on the opposition, Terry, Luke, Rob and Fat Bob had wisely decided to stay up all night, so as to arrive at the coach ready inebriated. Fearing their blood alcohol level was already dropping dangerously low, they also took advantage of the obligatory stop at Ronald's House to get some McBeers in for the journey. This, along with Terry's famous home-made Genepi (imagine meths with a twig in it), insured the boys were more than up to the task of being barred from their first pub, before most other resorts had gone into theirs.

By the time those of us who had watched the competition rejoined the main group, Terry and Bob had invested in a tattoo each. In Britain you need to be sober to get a tattoo, similar legislation I'm told applies in France. In Chamonix, however, it seems the sobriety test is being able to find the entrance to the tattoo parlour. Both lads opted for Mayan birth runes, on which there was apparently a special. Since Terry was already more inscribed upon than the toilets of Luton station it was hard to make his out, Bob's on a virgin smooth calf will be a lasting memory of a great night out. And of course a birthday reminder for any Mayans he knows.

After a succession of bars, largely bare-arsed, and all singing Meribel victory songs, so as to keep our own resorts good name intact, 52 seasonnaires headed back to the coach, prompt for the 1.00 leave time. The one punter didn't. But we gave him 15 minutes before calling it a day and
starting the long drive home. If any one sees a rather lost looking guy called Benny in Chamonix over the next few weeks, please tell him we've gone.

Next year we're going to have a team. I can't promise we'll win. But if it comes down to a drink-off, like this years contest did, I reckon we're in with a chance.

check out www.powderblue.nu for more insider info

Report from Jon Trigell - Natives Resort Reporter in Val Thorens

Mail this page to a friend
What do you think? Tell us on the Message Boards