The hosts that go the extra mile

Chalet Chocolat, Chamonix

"Today is going to be amazing," promises Helen Lavender, 33, the co-owner of Chalet Chocolat, which she runs as part of the Rude Chalets chain with husband Chris, 37. She's researched the local off-piste guiding companies thoroughly and I believe her when she says Evolution 2 is the best. The Lavenders have already proved themselves to be utterly efficient, selecting staff who are reliable, hardworking yet fun, getting sponsorship from Burton so guests can ride the latest snowboards, running girls' camps and board test weekends, and by the simple fact that they've managed to expand their range of funky chalets each year - especially impressive, when so many other independent chalets are struggling.

The couple met while working a season in Méribel in 2000. Helen was living in a camper van, wielding the line, "Could I possibly come and use your shower?" to chat up blokes. Chris, who'd just packed in an IT job in London, said yes she could, sparking a romance that led to more seasons, interspersed with travelling, and an ambition to set up their own chalets.

They've differentiated their properties by being cool and snowboard focused, with bright interiors full of surf and skate and Burton stuff, art work, Xboxes, laptops, iPod docks and other youthful paraphernalia. But the guests aren't necessarily all young snowboarders; plenty of skiers and people in their 40s/50s come too.

"We'll go to Italy - the snow will be better there," says Steph, the Evolution 2 guide, as we set out. Platinum sunlight is beginning to arc over the rocky fingers of the Aiguille du Midi, illuminating why the Lavenders gave the chalet its name - it really is a chocolate-box house, all wood, fairy lights and flower boxes, fronted by trees pruned into spirals.

Italy was a good call. On the other side of the Mont Blanc tunnel, Courmayeur is bright, but with piles more snow than Chamonix. The car park is empty. Where is everyone? Don't they realise there's a metre and a half of fresh snow up there?

Even though the slopes are deserted, we decide to head straight off-piste into the backcountry. "Over this crest, you have to drop off the cliff then go straight through the gulley." This isn't exactly what I want to hear on my first run. Although it's the sort of powder day I've longed for on countless ski holidays ruined by lack of snow, I am suffering from a tequila-fuelled night on the tiles.

I'd spent the previous couple of days in Rude Chalets' other base in Morzine, for the Burton board test weekend. All the guests got to try Burton's latest boards, exchanging them between runs at a meeting point manned by Chris outside a mountain cafe in Avoriaz, to which Morzine links. It was a brilliant way to add extra value to a trip, and encouraged the various couples, lone guests and groups of lads to mix. As in all chalets, we ate communally, but we got on so well we also rode together, practised jumps, celebrated Helen's birthday, and on the last night, ended up dancing in the Opera club, in a cage, on a stage, until 4am.

But with this much snow, a local guide who knew every tree run and steep line as if it was his own back garden, even the hangover from hell couldn't put a dent in the day. As one of our group said when we retired to the warmth of the Jekyll bar at the end of the session, "that was one of those perfect days that either makes you want to go straight back out again or else retire from snowboarding forever".

Gemma Bowes