Life on the Slopes: Xavier Fournier

Ever since I met Jojo she has been talking about her latest "work crush." I now know what she means. After the six day Cours des hors-piste et randonee, I am humbled to the greatest possible degree. Not by bravado or any inter-manly display of alpha-ness, but a display of patience, tolerance and persistence borne of the desire to make sure as many people survive the mountains as possible. A display of natural professionalism, a display of hospitality from a man who welcomed us into his home; the mountains. I now understand I have been but a visitor in these places, as much as I have loved them all my life. Yes, I have a work crush, though it is unlikely I will ever be in Xavier's line of work.

The mountains are big. Xavier is small.

This is a simple reality. All week as we gorged ourselves on the required information, like 13 Mr. Creosotes, Xavier did his best to teach us that learning and surviving means being simple. Thinking simple. Just to the left of this slope and up 75 meters or so, in 2008, the 18 yr. old cousin of our other guide (Jean Vincent) was swept into a terrain trap and buried 6 meters deep. There is a cross on the col for him.

Glacier de Grand Desert. Xavier on a snowboard.

On day 3 Xavier showed up with snowboard gear. We had scheduled a 6 hour tour, including 3 hours hours of ascending. Xavier snowboards about two times per season. However, one of the snowboard guys (Mr. Blunt) was looking to be in a little trouble, nearly unable to hack a 1 hour ascent on day 2. Xavier said if he were going to judge another man he would not do so without being in the same shoes. His plan was to show that being more organized was a suitable way to mitigate the physically demanding nature of snowshoeing in the mountains. Xavier proved to be as smooth and silky on a board as he is on skis and an absolute animal at ascending on any gear.

Mr Blunt

After our second lift ride on day 1. Mr. Blunt borrowed a screwdriver from a more prepared member of the group to remove his bindings and adjust his stance. I call him Mr Blunt because he lit up a gigantic blunt on the chairlift, trying to share it with us between practical sessions, then smoked the entire thing when he got no takers. The dude was the Kiwi incarnation of Jeff Spicoli. He spoke French like Spicoli, but Spicoli was a lot funnier and possibly smarter. On the morning of the 3rd day (the 6 hour tour), Mr. Blunt quit and left the group just before we started our 3 hour ascent. It was too bad, because he could have made it through the course, and he would have experienced some of the following...