Then came the dreaded foehn wind that destroyed a meter of snowpack and turned everything to horrendous shit. What to do? The answer was clear: go to Italy.
With local contacts telling us of the fantastic conditions in the Dolomites, we were all encouraged by the lack of foehn wind, quality food and attractive prices. After booking our stay at the Grand Hotel Misurina, we scored some presidental suites in the 4-star hotel for 27 euro per person per night, not bad.
While the weather was sub-optimal, we were able to ski a number of gorgeous Italian couloirs.
WTF? A lift goes up there. Sign says it's closed but we got on and rode it to the top. Massive 10 second approach to the top of Couloir Staunies: a 1400m classic chute bringing us into sunshine and bliss.
Conditions were good: about 30cm of fresh at the top.
Chip skiing out.
Just like that.
Then we skied some other couloir, I forget what it was called. It too, was nice.
Italy: what can't it do?
Four hours in all to autostop a Hungarian trucker for a ride into Italy, hop on an empty train, and feast and chill in a hotel sciccoso in warm, laid back Torino. 