The coming for the season thing, is it a great experience? Well, the short answer is 'yes' but I don't think it is the reason you think it is.
Actually it was kinda my second ski season - my first was a couple years back, in the army. My regiment would send eight guys down to Austria (from Northern Germany) to alpine (race) train for six weeks and then onto France (Le Grand Bornand) to compete against other army units for another 10 days or so. To be clear, I never liked being in the army... except for this, this was brilliant... and it changed my life. But that is not this story.
Going back to my other ski season. It was in Chatel, France. And, probably like you, some guy (or girl) inspired me.
You see, I'd picked up a hitchhiker (yep, it was a thing once) and as you do, we got chatting "Yeah, if I lose my job" his brand new job, he was telling me (he was a delivery driver for Coca Cola and had just lost his license for drink driving... yeah exactly, there was no 'if' he was definitely gonna lose his job) "If that happens then I'll just go back to France to work in a ski resort..."
WHAT??!!?? Wait a minute, What?!? You just tell me that again.
I didn't even know that was a thing. But it was a 'thing' and it was now going to be my thing.
Up to that point I was still in the British Army, six years to date but, and these are two keys facts. One, I, (as mentioned), really did not like the army - people kept shooting at me. And two, I had done my minimum six year sentence... I mean, contracted sign-up period. I was at the point where I could give my three months 'get out of jail free' notice. So that's what I did. Cos I wanted to be off to France.
Being in the army was okay, I had great holidays (six weeks+ each year), I had accommodation, I had three good meals a day, I had a career, I had paid training, I had travel... even the skiing thing, was an army gig. I had all of this, and steady, decent income, but you know the shooting thing. Actually I embellish a little - it only really happened once, and it wasn't at me personally it was just in our general vicinity... during the First Gulf War. Yes yes, a veteran.
Truthfully (as opposed to?) I just didn't like the army, period.
Anyhow, where was I? Oh, yes, France.
A few months later (that December) I was out of the army and I found myself at Geneva airport.
I thought I had accommodation organized at some hotel in Morgins, along with a job at the same hotel... and transport from the airport to this said hotel.
Nope... nope... and er... nope. None of those things existed. Well, the hotel did exist but the other stuff at the hotel, not so much.
So I had to do that thing you know, be self sufficient and figure things out... all by myself. It was all so inconvenient.
The first night (& second) I ended up staying with the serving girl at the bar. Nope, not what you think. She had a boyfriend, and a spare room. She was just being nice. I had to pay for the room but it was cheap and it saved my bacon.
Morgins (pronounced Morzhen) was small, but just 3km away over the French border was Chatel (pronounced Chatel...) a larger place. I hitchhiked (cos as mentioned it was a thing) across the border the next morning and because I needed both a place to stay and a job... the first thing I did was... go skiing. True story.
Being an intelligent chappy, at the end of the ski day, instead of heading back to Morgins I headed to the bar... and got drunk... and hitchhiked back to Morgins at 1am... to stay with... it's funny but I don't remember her name, but her boyfriends name was Oliver.
The next day I did focus on some 'adulting' - job hunting. 
Back in the 90's not many people in France spoke English and back in the 90's nobody from Wigan spoke French. Je suis cherche por travier' I learned that phrase pretty quickly... of course when they answered in their French... I looked like an idiot. Of course, looking like an idiot was not unusual por moi, but you know...
Despite being my French language ignorance, I found some work that morning, at the local hotel... working for Michel. I worked all day, got paid and... let go. The job was maintenance and another guy had turned up who was better qualified - had building and maintenance experience... spoke French... and was French... my first experience of racism.
Of course I also needed accommodation so off I went to the bar again... with some extra cash in my pocket.
Michel walked in 10 minutes later. "Hey Michel! Let me buy you a drink" I greeted him. Even though Michel had chosen the Frenchie over me, I did like him.
A few drinks later Michel says to me in his broken English "Vair veel you stey to-neet?"
"oh, I'll get a room at the hotel next door" my written French accent is better than my written Wiganese... hold on, let's get Google involved... "Aw, Ah'll get a rewm at th' otel next duwer" that's not bad eh?
Anyway Michel came back with "Non! You vill stay viz my familee to-night."
When we turned up, both drunk, and late... Nicol, his wife... didn't seem very happy about this situation. Can you imagine your 65 year old husband brings home a mid 20's, 'new, drunk friend' or 'stray' and says he's staying... can you imagine? And on top of that he doesn't speak French and he is English...
It gets better... I had dinner with Michel and Nicol and then I took myself back-off to the bar... to find work. Actually, there is some logic there - all the seasonal staff hung out at the bar and the seasonal staff knew where jobs could be found... I'm not a total idiot... just a marginal one.
Anyways... that night I met Sam... and Sam thought I was cute, so instead of going back to Michel's and my bed for the night, I went back with Sam... no, unfortunately, and despite my best efforts, very little happened. Obviously not cute enough.
The next morning, and very hungover, I headed back to Michel's... who as it happened, had already left for work... or so Nicol told me... as she was heading out the door... to go to her job herself... I think anyway... cos you know, the language barrier.
Well, that was kinda my introduction to bumming around a ski resort in France... what...? Oh yeah, you're wondering where I ended up staying? Funny story, I ended up living with Michel and Nicol for most of the season. That day I went out and bought them gifts for letting me (not) stay, cos of the Sam thing. They, that very day, had bought their first, ever, brand new, car. They were going out to celebrate this car and, god knows why, took me with them. I loved Michel and Nicol.
I eventually landed on my feet and found a job; as a 'plunger' or dishwasher for you English speakers. That was a tough gig. I would literally run around that kitchen trying to keep up with the dishes. Giloo, the owner would yell at me... his girlfriend (I don't remember her name) would yell at me... her voice is still in my head after 30+ years "PAN!!! Pan por la self!!!"
A great experience?
Actually there is no single why... Maybe it was Fresh air. Sunlight. Exercise. Social connection. Friction. Challenge. Discomfort. Hard work. Survival. Self reliance... but what about the skiing and snowboarding? I hear you ask? Yep - love it but the thing is, I don't look back on my experiences and think about the snow sports... I look back and remember everything else.
Doing this on your own is not easy, it is not really hard, but it is scary. Heck, even doing it with friends is scary. So, anyone trying this... kudos to you. And if you're female... well, double kudos.
Every year new people turn up, bright eyed, bushy tailed... and I know, I know they are going to have an experience that will change their life. And you know what? Every year... every year I feel the same, every year I am envious of their adventures to come. True story.
Solido Properties... if you click on this link it will take you to my crappy website... you know the one that needs updating... but the thing is the only reason I get inspired to update is when I need to find tenants... and really, I hardly ever need to find tenants hence the continuation of my procrastination skill set. You can try emailing me... through the contact page, you can try...
