It may sound like a cliché by now, but it had just snowed 5ft over 4 days last week when I rolled in on yet another bus. I wiped the crusty sleep out of my eyes and was blinded by the glare of a bluebird day reflecting off the gigantic peaks that guard the road to the Mecca of Sth American skiing. I had missed the afternoon the Marte Chair had opened an hour before close, and anybody who rode it had the run of their lives down the 1200m Eduardo Face.






I also missed the next day, Saturday, when the chair was open all day and the locals who had been held hostage the previous week by the perfect storm, got down to business and shredded as good a powder as you will find anywhere in the world. The thing was though, on Sunday morning, it looked like there was still a copious amount of fresh snow left. So we got to it, and cautiously peeked over the ridge at the top and dropped into a wide, steep chute that ran all the way back to the lift.






Granite fins run from top to bottom down the east face of the mountain. Originating at close to 3500m, chutes too many to count filled wth cold smoke eat your legs and leave them searing at the bottom. Your head slumps as you catch your breath and shake it in disbelief at what just happened. And then you get back on the lift and do it all over again. This ain't the backcountry inbounds. It's bigger than the backcountry.






We explored left and right, feasting on wide open bowls and tight 45° chutes. The sun beat down on us the whole time and bearly a breath of wide gave us reason to turn our back on the sublime vista of the Andes. From the top of the Marte chair, Cerro Martin dominates the view to the west with long snaking chutes, separated by towering spires of granite and is a an hour and a half boot pack.

The lifts run until 5pm and tease your legs to take another lap. Here the days are long, the faces are longer and the nights are longer still. When the clock finally struck 5pm, we sat down on the first seat we could find, which just happened to be on the deck of the Innsbruck Bar. As our beers arrived, music erupted from speakers and Miss Sixty models strolled down a cat walk built out the front of the bar. The best of Argentina was on display- incredible mountains, cold snow and beautiful women.






The only thing left to desire was food, and again Argentina came to the fore with world famous beef steak washed down with a local Malbec wine. It was a long weekend and the party later was going to be huge. As innumerous pretty girls walked by destined for the clubs, we figured we wouldn't push our luck. When you have it so good, and tomorrow is going to be just as good, we didn't want to be greedy.






The sun dawned the next day and frozen crystals lingered in the air as another bluebird day came to life. 5 days after a storm there was still fresh snow to be had directly off the lift. (Where else does that happen?) We skied a few runs down Eduardo and then decided to go a little further and explore some of the slackcountry.






An easy walk along a ridge stripped of snow by the wind landed us above Sin Sol. We had heard word of this place and how it is still going off long after the rsort has been hammered. Running away into the distance below, chutes and spines protected from the sun left us shaking our head at how ridiculously incredile Las Lenas is.

This is 2 days in and I still have 5 remaining. I can't imagine what else lies out there over the next ridge an hours bootpack or skin from here or there. With blue skies in the forecast for the next few days, I might just have to go and find out.

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