Méribel Après-Ski: how a terrace, a band and a cold beer rewired my ski trips forever

I went to Méribel thinking après-ski wasn’t for me

Méribel Après-Ski
(Image credit: Ryan Chambers via Future)

A few days of live bands, sun-soaked terraces and one ill-advised mic grab later, I realised I’d been getting it all wrong.

Set in the heart of Les 3 Vallées, the world’s largest interconnected ski area, Méribel is perfectly positioned for big days on snow. With more than 600km of pistes linking Méribel to Courchevel, Val Thorens and beyond - and reliable snow stretching from early winter into spring - it’s a resort built for long lunches, late finishes and “just one more run”.

But beyond the skiing, Méribel is equally famed for its après-ski. The headline act is undoubtedly La Folie Douce - a high-altitude institution where table dancing starts before most people have unclipped their boots. Part club, part cabaret, part endurance test, it’s helped define modern après as something loud, chaotic and relentlessly upbeat.

And that, if I’m honest, is exactly why I’ve never really got après-ski.

I love skiing. I first clipped into skis at five years old on a family holiday and was lucky enough to return most winters growing up. But après? My experience had always been house DJs, clomping around in ski boots, freezing pints in plastic cups, and the feeling that I really should have just stayed on the slopes until the last lift instead.

So when Après Ski Bands invited me to Méribel for a few days to experience après through the lens of live music - proper bands, real musicians, authentic atmosphere - I was sceptical, but curious. If anywhere could convert me, surely it would be the spiritual home of après itself.

It turns out I just needed a guitar, a microphone, and the right crowd.

The live music alternative to après chaos

Cocorico Méribel Après-Ski

(Image credit: Ryan Chambers Future)

What Après Ski Bands have tapped into feels obvious once you experience it: live music completely changes the rhythm of après. Over the next few days, the artists I watched each showed a different side of how, and why, it works.

The first evening unfolded in the unusually restrained setting of Lodge du Village. Known more for its late-night dancefloor than quiet contemplation, the venue felt transformed. Table dancing was swapped for a beautifully served tasting menu, and artists were given the rare opportunity to play original material.

You could see how much that mattered. In a scene dominated by covers and crowd-pleasers, original songs are a luxury that most out here don’t get to explore. But the room leaned in, conversations softened, and the evening just worked - a smart move from both Lodge du Village and Après Ski Bands, and the first lesson in my après re-education: authenticity does exist out here.

Solo acoustic artist Kyanna delivered the standout set. Stripped-back, soulful and confident, it was the kind of performance that held attention without demanding the dancefloor. This was the moment I realised après could be more than expected - and that I was genuinely excited for what came next.

Sun out, skis off, everyone dancing

Méribel Après-Ski drinking and dancing

(Image credit: Ryan Chambers via Future)

Heading down the tree-lined Lapin blue run seemed a bit of an easy way to end a solid day on the mountain - but with the sun dipping and the thirst for a pint rising, seeing Terrasse du Village appear at the bottom of the slope, it quickly made sense why we took this route.

If there was a single lightbulb moment that explained the sheer joy people feel at après, it was watching Tobias De Krester, on a cold but sunny terrace, build the atmosphere from an enjoyable welcome drink to a full-on party.

What started as gentle toe-tapping over a first pint quickly flipped into full-blown dancing - people on benches & tables, boots still buckled, grinning as they’d just discovered skiing all over again.

By the end of the set, the entire place was moving. No drops. No build-ups. Just sun-soaked energy and a crowd singing Teenage Dirtbag louder than I’ve ever heard it.

The hazy road trip

Méribel Après-Ski skiing - on a mountain with some art

(Image credit: Ryan Chambers via Future)

The next morning, with hazy heads and sore legs, we made the 90-minute drive to Val d’Isère. It’s not part of Les 3 Vallées, but it is home to one of France’s most respected après institutions: CocoRico.

The ski day alone was worth the trip - long runs, blue skies and even some powder-filled off-piste. The kind of day you wish you could repeat endlessly, if your legs allowed it. And while it’s hard to top skiing like that, Coco Rico provided the perfect setting to push things further.

Enter The Wingmen. Unapologetically crowd-pleasing and absolutely relentless, it was singalong after singalong from the first chord to the final chorus. This was après at full throttle, but still somehow human - every song felt played for that audience, in that moment.

One last mic grab

My final après moment came courtesy of Rio & Rhymes (@rioandrhymes on instagram), back at Lodge du Village and very much in its natural state. By the time we arrived, the place was packed - skis stacked outside, pints inside, and the unmistakable thud of ski boots on wooden floors.

Rio & Rhymes don’t ease you in. They grab hold immediately, with mash-ups, crowd work and a frontman who treats the dancefloor like a living room. Somewhere between the first verse and my fourth (or seventh - who knows) pint, I found myself invited on the mic to help out with an Eminem rendition that will hopefully be lost to the ages.

It was ridiculous. It was brilliant. And by that point, I was a full convert.

Why live music finally made après make sense

By the end of the trip, something had shifted. I was still skiing hard - hazy first lifts, long lunches earned, legs burning by the final run - but my days now had that elusive second summit.

Méribel’s après works because it understands balance. It lets music enhance the moment rather than hijack it. And that moment is what reminds you skiing isn’t just about vertical metres, Strava stats or perfect CARV scores - it’s also about what happens once you step out of your bindings.

I came to Méribel for the skiing, and I’ll go back for the skiing. But I’ll also go back for that first beer on the terrace, the sound of a guitar cutting through cold Alpine air, and the realisation - somewhere around 3pm - that the best part of the day might still be ahead of you.


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