Obviously, we'd forgotten that the area's 64,500 acres of skiable terrain, 200 interconnected chairlifts and 375 miles of marked Alpine pistes had moved even Sports Illustrated magazine to pronounce the Three Valleys "the largest ski area on Earth."
All day long, high winds and swirling powder had kept most of the Meribel- to-Courchevel lifts shut down. When word reached us in midafternoon that the lifts had reopened, we jumped at the opportunity to ski to Courchevel - miles away in the next valley.
To get there, eat dessert and return to Meribel before the lifts closed, we would have to cover a lot of territory in a limited time. We decided to risk it.
We had arrived in the Three Valleys six days earlier, along with 72 wide- eyed and energetic members of the South Jersey-based Fall Line Ski Club. (The valleys are loosely referred to as Meribel, Courchevel and Val- Thorens, but it can get confusing because each contains resort villages with those names.)
In those six days, the club had already collected its share of memorable moments: the stunning view from the Cime de Caron tram station; the spooky whiteout storms on barren Val-Thorens; the death-defying off-piste thrills of the Grand Couloir; the tasty Grand Marnier crepes, the wine, the cheese, the baguettes. . . .
Now it was a persistent craving for something sweet that compelled me and my companion, Pam Bigelow, to make one final grand excursion across miles of spectacularly beautiful Alpine terrain. We would top off our day with a sumptuous dessert at a certain rustic restaurant that a friend had recommended for having "the most expensive desserts in all of Courchevel, but worth every franc." Then we would return to the big Saulire cable car for the return trip to our home base in cozy Meribel.
