Courchevel: the group ski trip that wasn't very Courchevel

Courchevel has a reputation that is hard to shift. Five-star hotels, Michelin-starred restaurants, designer boutiques by the snowfront and champagne terraces where a lunch bill can outstrip a week's accommodation elsewhere. It is the resort people name when they want shorthand for skiing money.

We went anyway, as a mixed group of friends, and the trip cost £348 per person for return flights from Luton to Geneva, private return transfers and four nights' accommodation.

That figure is not the true cost of the full trip, but it shows that getting to and staying in one of the world's most famously expensive ski destinations does not automatically require a luxury budget. The trick was where we stayed and what we chose to spend money on once we were there. It wasn't extreme frugality: we bought rounds, went to après every day and at one point, slightly undermining the whole thesis, a bottle of Whispering Angel appeared.

A group that couldn't ski together, and didn't need to

The group mattered as much as the resort. We had confident skiers happy on most pistes and heading off-piste, intermediates, people still early in their skiing journey, and two snowboarders. Skiing as one unit for three days was never realistic, so we didn't try.

Instead, smaller groups formed and reformed through the day. The stronger skiers pushed across the Three Valleys, whose more than 600 km of pistes reward anyone wanting to cover ground. Others remained on Courchevel's gentler terrain, where the long, forgiving blues and reds suit those building confidence. Then everyone met again for coffee, a beer or a few shared runs.

A successful group ski holiday can involve skiing separately for much of the day, and it means that sometimes the best part is meeting back up.

Le Praz is a different Courchevel

Where you stay changes what Courchevel is. Le Praz sits at around 1,300 metres, below the purpose-built resort levels, and feels like a traditional Alpine village: wooden chalets, narrow streets, a church, people carrying skis through the snow.

It is calmer and cheaper than 1850, and the Forêt chairlift puts you into the wider lift system quickly, so staying low costs very little skiing time.

We stayed at Lodge Les Merisiers in four-person rooms. Expectations were modest given the price, but the rooms were better than expected, the ski lockers and heated boot room made mornings painless, and breakfast was simple and good. That is everything accommodation needs to do on a short ski trip. Spend less on the room, because you're barely going to be in it.

Buy the lift pass you'll actually use

The most practical lesson from travelling with mixed abilities was the lift passes. The experienced skiers bought the full Three Valleys pass because they intended to move freely between valleys and cover as much terrain as possible. Others bought smaller local passes day by day, depending on their ability, the conditions and where they actually planned to ski.

There is little value in paying for access to hundreds of kilometres of pistes if you're realistically going to spend the day around one part of Courchevel. A group doesn't need matching lift passes any more than it needs matching ability.

The beer in 1850 and the run home

On the first evening most of the group finally converged in Courchevel 1850 for a beer. Then came the question of getting back to Le Praz. Some of the beginners, sensibly, took the lift down. The rest of us skied.

What followed was roughly 15 minutes down a fairly demanding red towards Le Praz, with the light fading, legs tired and most of the group on snow together for the first time. People fell. Everyone laughed. Trying to stay upright while watching your friends disappear into the snow in front of you only made it harder. It was exhilarating and far more memorable than another perfectly executed blue-sky run.

The beer is context, not advice: anyone not confident on that terrain should do exactly what half our group did and take the lift.

Three ski days from a five-day trip

Monday to Friday sounds like five days in the mountains. We skied Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. Transfers ate some of the time, weather and tired legs took more, and Friday morning's flat light coincided unhelpfully with the consequences of Thursday's après.

No apologies for any of it. Ski trips get judged by kilometres covered and vertical metres logged, but most people's holidays don't work like that. Three proper days in the mountains made the trip. Skiing is supposed to be enjoyable, not an endurance event you've paid to enter.

Food followed the same logic. There were no mountain lunches planned weeks ahead and no tables booked months out, just food grabbed when we needed it. The idea was ski, explore, coffee, ski, beer, repeat. In a resort where restaurants carry so much of the luxury reputation, choosing not to spend there left money for the parts we actually cared about.

Ronnie's, then the snow, then Jack's

One afternoon's après was at Le Rond Point in Méribel, known to everyone as Ronnie's. Jugs of beer, people dancing on tables in ski boots, loud house music.

It's the kind of Alpine après everyone should do occasionally, and with a big group it was great fun. Honest verdict, though: the house-music, table-dancing version of après wears thin for me. Ronnie's was great. A few hours of Ronnie's was enough.

Leaving was the best part. Heavy snow had arrived while we were inside, the mountain had emptied, and the piste stretched down towards the lights of Méribel in the dark.

The skiing itself wasn't technical, but the fresh snow and empty slopes made it feel like a different mountain from the one we'd skied all day. One caveat: once pistes close, grooming machines and winch cables can be operating and normal ski-area protections no longer apply. This is an account, not a suggestion.

We ended up at Jack's, where a live band replaced the DJ and, for anyone who'd take live music over another house set, it was the better half of the evening.

The mountains don't care which hotel you're in

The extravagant Courchevel exists and, if you want it, will happily take your money. Le Praz offers a different version. Stay there. Share a room with your mates. Buy the pass you'll actually use. Grab lunch rather than staging it. Occasionally buy the stupid bottle of rosé.

Nobody executed this trip perfectly, and that's rather the point. Years on, the memory won’t be a restaurant reservation. It'll be belly laughing on the way down to Le Praz, and skiing through falling snow towards the lights of Méribel. Someone who spent £348 getting there gets the same view as someone paying thousands a night in 1850.