Issue 162: Les Gets, knocking it out of the park!

Go for the bike parks, stay for the awesome backcountry trails. Sanny finds that there’s more to the Portes du Soleil than just its famous bike parks.

Words Sanny Photography Mark, Sanny and Benji

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The Portes du Soleil area in the Alps conjures up an image of big lifts, bigger bikes and even bigger trails.

As a rider who happily recognises his jumping skills are limited and who regards riding being more about adventures, I’ll say that it’s never been on my radar as somewhere to visit. Fortunately, the local Tourist Board recognises that this hard-core image may be acting as a barrier to riders like myself coming over so they invited Mark, Benji and me over to see that there is much more to Les Gets, Morzine and Avoriaz than the traditional bike park trails.

Widow Maker? That’s the name of a trail?

“Widow Maker in Morzine is well named”, grinned Niall, our Belfast-born welcome driver for transfer specialists Skiidy Gonzales, as he recounted how one of his Scottish clients had broken his back, hip and femur on it back in 2022 and was saddled with an £8,000 bill to repatriate him to the UK on top of substantial medical fees. Thankfully, he went on to wax lyrical about how there were trails for all abilities.

Pulling up to our apartment in Les Gets village, we were greeted by Ben, Director of Chalets1066, our hosts for this part of the trip. A former Royal Marines Commando and ski coach with a smile as wide as the Clyde. We then enjoyed an outstanding evening meal of local meats, cheeses and a truly epic chocolate mousse at the Basskour bar in the centre of the village, hosted by its patron Fabien who treated us like old friends.

Ambling into The Hub next morning – our nerve centre of operations – we were greeted by owner Lionel and his laid-back dog Olaf. Setting us up on Saracen bikes for our trip, we soon loaded up Lionel’s truck and were heading up the steep road that would take us onto Mont Chéry, high above.

A gentle introduction

Benji and I were secretly cursing Lionel, Mark and our fab local guide Thomas Favre as they sped off into the distance on ebikes. No matter, the CinemaScope vista of the mountains and valleys all around us was a welcome companion. We soon darted down a fast track that gradually narrowed and ratcheted up the technical interest. At times feeling like it was cut out of the side of the mountain, our mantra was ‘Don’t fall right’. Even after a technical climbing challenge beckoned, it was a very mellow introduction to the natural trails of the area when finally it took us out at a high point above Les Gets. A road/off-road descent followed that took us through the World Cup Downhill course of yesteryear and just to remind us that one should be careful, Mark took the traditional first-day tumble when his bars caught a fence.

Be more French

By now, lunch was calling and a trip to L’ApresSki near the Chavannes lift station was called for. We wasted no time in ordering. I am pretty sure that a beautifully cooked steak, carrots, fries and salad are not normal ride fare but we were in France and if there is one thing the French know how to do well, it is stopping for a proper lunch. Replete, we headed up onto the Chavannes Express lift that unlocks the riding opportunities in the main area of the park. We settled on the flow fest that is the green trail, Piste des Écureuils aka ‘the squirrel run’. For the average cross-country rider, there is nothing to fear here – all the jumps could be rolled through and the berms easily railed around. Deploying the drone and the action cam, we spent a joyful couple of hours riding it and the surrounding blue trails, using the Nauchets lift to return upwards.

As afternoon turned to evening, we made our way down to the small lake beside the Alta Lumina lit-up forest walk for a bit of post-ride chilling prior to the final descent into Les Gets and L’ApresSki for a post-ride beer. Dinner was burgers at Ice Burg, where we reflected on the day. It had been a successful first foray onto the trail but it lacked a certain je ne sais quoi. We had come to get away from the park trails but had allowed ourselves to be drawn into them. As such, we agreed that day two would be all about exploring and finding the natural stuff that tends not to get written about.

Finding Trail D’Or

Saturday dawned dry and bright and we were on a mission. We wanted to get to a viewpoint where we could see the frankly breathtaking scenery offered by Mont Blanc and the Dents du Midi and ride trails that would rarely feature on the itinerary of the full-face crew. As if by magic, the shopkeeper that is Lionel appeared and he was confident he had exactly the right trail for us. Heading up the Chavannes lift, we chatted about how his family had lived in the region for hundreds of years and the journey that took him from ski instructor to bike racer and ultimately bike shop owner. “I see happy faces in the morning and happy faces at the end of the day. What is not to like?” I very much warmed to Lionel and admired his approach to life.

We started with the coaching track descent, another easy to follow but most enjoyable blue trail that led us to the Nauchets lift, home to a number of bell-toting cows. From the top, we headed onto a gently rising section of road climb where several roadies came flying down in the other direction. We were on the iconic Tour de France climb, the Col de Joux Plane, which eventually topped us out at a rather spicy 1,690m. It’s is a tough old brute of a climb but one which succumbed easily, thanks to the power of the lift. Clearing the forest, the scene before us exploded in a panorama-filling riot of properly scary-looking peaks, massive headwalls and valleys plummeting far below us. For the sake of a little effort, we were afforded views that most park riders would miss out on. It was quite simply spectacular. Consider that box well and truly ticked.

We retraced our steps before Lionel darted off down a fire road. We were now on Le Tour du Plateau de Loex and Benji and I were feeling the effects of altitude. Either that or trying to catch Mark and Lionel on ebikes was pushing us more into the red than we might have hoped. Although on fire roads, the scenery more than made up for the initial lack of technical challenge. The sun was out, the trails were dry and the hints of our big mountain surroundings which came in and out of view as we rode through sunlit-dappled woodland. Rounding a corner, the trail spat us out at an oasis of calm that was a small tarn in the deep heart of the woodland. It’s the kind of place you would walk to with a picnic. Had we been so inclined, we would have happily stopped for lunch but we now had the promise of greater things to come as the trails had narrowed and we could sense a big descent was almost upon us. Another clearing approached and, to our surprise, a tiny chapel awaited us at the start of the downhill proper. We were excited about what was to come, so stopped only briefly to sign the visitor book and listen to Lionel as he gave a potted history lesson of a chapel on that site in one form or another since 1313.

Oh, hell yeah! Schralp it, baby!

What followed was a bloody revelation. This was proper mountain biking and the kind that we all love. Fast and flowing, rooty trails through a bed of pine needles with a mix of stepdowns and narrow squeeze-throughs accompanied by an occasional soundtrack of flowing streams. This was perfect! There were no big jumps and everything looked and felt natural. It did not have that tracked-out, brake-bump-laden look of park trails the world over; rather this was the good stuff where the effort to reach it was enough to deter the majority of riders. You could take a downhill bike down it but you would be entirely over-biked and it would not be the same experience. On one tricky, rooty stepdown, Mark impressed us with his riding chops as he made short work of it where Benji and I had walked down.

Despite his local knowledge, Lionel had a couple of offs but brushed them aside with a shrug and the French equivalent of ‘Tis but a flesh wound!’ On we pressed, a particularly enjoyable stream crossing provided welcome cooling for our somewhat toasty feet. The good stuff kept on coming until eventually we were into the village proper. This was exactly the type of trail that we had hoped to discover and there it was, hidden in plain sight. Celebrating with a well-earned drink at our new favourite local, we bid Lionel adieu and headed over to the supermarché to get the ingredients for a classic jambon, fromage and salade baguette.

Where you going, now?

Suitably stuffed after cramming the entire baguette down my pie hole, a decision that I would later regret for the entire duration of the afternoon climb, we jumped back on the lift and opted to follow Le Tour de Crêtes de la Rosta. Ostensibly a mellower affair, I don’t mind telling you that the mid-afternoon heat, altitude and overly full stomach had me contemplating a tactical vom at points – the final rise to the still-closed lift station above Nauchets being a particular low point. Fortunately, a rest stop in the shade and a few sips of Coke worked wonders.

Descending into the trees, we all had a slight sense that we were about to piss away all our height on fire road – truly the worst of scenarios for all mountain bikers. However, salvation came in the form of a marked trail darting off to the side — we had stumbled upon the trail known as Colorado. Checking that there were no signs forbidding bikes (there were none), we cautiously dropped in. What followed was another gem of a descent. Exposed roots, steep chutes, bench-cut trails – this was the real deal. Mark barrelled down shouting how he was regretting his line choice of going straight down the fall line. Luckily, physics was his saviour as he knew the bike would be fine; his job was to hang on and not panic.

Reaching the end of the trail proper, we found ourselves on a wider and more open track that eventually took us onto one of the main Les Gets pistes. Not keen to drop down on a wide and frankly dull piste, we followed a vague but marked grassy track that took us back into the woods and which by sheer luck took us onto the bottom of the trail we had so thoroughly enjoyed that morning. Winner, winner, poulet dinner, as we now say in France. We had gone in search of trail treasure and come up trumps with a real haul of riding delights. Reflecting over a mightily fine, pizza at Le Comptoir later that evening, we all felt that it was a case of mission accomplished. Despite it being almost ghostly quiet at the start of the season, we had met some truly lovely people, enjoyed great food and hospitality and – most importantly – ridden some terrific trails that more than met our hopes for this part of the adventure. Nice one, Les Gets. We came, we rode and you smashed it, quite literally, out of the park!

Check out more details in our comprehensive destination guide to Les Get below

Les Gets, French Alps