In late 2010, British Airways started flying to Chambéry.

"We couldn't believe it," says Céline, my French minder, her eyes widening. "British Airways. Right here. Normally, we only get the Russians and the Belgians. But now we hope the British will come too. It only takes just over an hour from London."

Céline is very French. She has cropped brown hair, a gamine face and looks as if she could eat a job lot of tartiflette and not put on one ounce. We're heading to Aussois, on the edge of the Vanoise national park, in the Haute-Maurienne valley.

I've been led to believe that it could be one of the Alps' best-kept secrets. Les Trois Vallées, where the vast majority of Brits head, is expensive and it has always rankled that, unless you're a high-end or intermediate skier hell-bent on taking advantage of the hundreds of kilometres of pistes the area has to offer, you're wasting your money. Though the skiing isn't quite so extensive, the Maurienne, towards the Italian border from Chambéry, also has three valleys, and 22 resorts (the largest are Val Cenis, Orelle and Les Sybelles), so I'm going to see if they offer better value.

To tempt people like me further, the region has created a whole programme of zany activities, from night-time scuba diving in a lake to "free ride" snowshoeing. I hope to try a few.

"Snowblades! Pfffft," says Celine, with disdain, as we pick our skis up before heading into the mountains. I am filled with a quiet dread. I've been snowblading for the past 10 years. I haven't been on an actual ski since.

As we carry our skis to the car, I stare up towards the mountain range in the distance. It's shrouded in cloud and a wind is picking up.

"C'est un poooo-ahhhhh," warns Céline. I ask her what a poooo-ahhhhh is. It's the nickname the locals use for "massive blizzard that will probably mean the village is closed off for days".

As we begin our ascent towards it, the snow begins to fall. By the time we get there, Aussois is in the middle of a white-out. A biting wind is ripping in from the east and Céline, who is supposed to be taking me to try something called a Big Air, is looking worried. We head to the tourist office and meet Odile, a smiling woman with a long blonde plait. She shakes her head. "Vous ne pouvez pas faire la Big Air," she tells me. "C'est trop dangereux. C'est le poooo-ahhhhh!"

I'm disappointed about the Big Air, an enormous inflated cushion at the bottom of a ski jump. I suspect it's fun. Alas, I shall never know. So instead, I'm going snowtubing.

We reach the snowtubing circuit and are greeted by two ruddy-faced boys. I'm handed a helmet and told to sit in a large rubber ring at the base of a sharp incline. The rubber ring, with me in it, is attached to a drag lift and off I go, legs in the air travelling backwards in a blizzard. I arrive at the top and take my rubber ring to the start position, then hurtle down a twisting tube carved into the slope. Think luge or bobsleigh without any of the glory and more screaming. I have no control and, an eternity later, I shoot out at the bottom, whizz round in a circle, bump over a small ledge and come to a stop.

Six runs later and I'm back in a hut with the ruddy-faced boys. One of them gestures towards a kettle. "Vous voulez un vin chaud?" he asks. To my delight, the kettle is filled with red wine, not water. Quite why this hasn't caught on in Britain yet is anyone's guess.

Later, we head off for supper at Le Fort Marie Christine (+33 4 79 203644, fort-mariechristine.com) perched on the edge of a mountain. The fortress was built by Napoleon when he was worried about the Italians, and it has a Dracula feel about it. I order in French. This is my greatest achievement of the day. The food is delicious.

The following morning I head to Val Cenis, just above Le Bessans plateau – a popular site for cross-country skiers. I check into Les Chalets de Flambeau. It's only been open a week and it's lovely. There's a spa that's open to non-residents, but rather than hopping into the hot tub or the sauna, I am picked up by a gnarly mountain guide called Regis. He is going to take me snowshoeing. He had a group out yesterday, in the poooo-ahhhhh. They were at the top of the mountain and Regis had to bring them down. "Pour la premiere fois dans ma vie," he tells me, with a hush, "j'ai reellement ete terrifié." In short, he was shitting himself.

He points towards the mountain. He's seen a deer. He gets out his binoculars and let's me have a look. How he saw it with the naked eye is beyond belief. The snow shoes attach quite easily to a good walking shoe or boot and only take a few moments to get used to. We head up the mountain, Regis leading, and the trick is to try and place my feet in his footprints. This is hard physical exercise, and as we trek towards a remote village I realise we're walking along the top of a tall metal fence. There is something romantic about all of this. The depth of the snow after the storm, the total absence of anyone else around. I am so used to treating skiing trips as nothing more than chair lifts and speedy descents that it's easy to forget that the mountains have more to discover.

A skiing holiday doesn't have to be expensive or just about skiing. The Haute-Maurienne is cheaper than the Trois Vallées (the ski pass alone is almost 50% cheaper) and with the flights to Chambéry, it's possible to come away for a long weekend. Out of season, hotels are flexible as to how many nights you stay, so you can mix and match. If you're a beginner, or a cautious intermediate who likes staying in one resort and skiing the same blue and green pistes day in day out, try the Savoie Mont Blanc and Haute-Maurienne regions. You will save money. If you're a family and want inexpensive things to do with the kids, Aussois and Val Cenis are packed with things to try. In fact, that was my greatest revelation. I don't think I'll ever return to the Alps to just ski again.

• The trip was provided by Peak Retreats (0844 576 0170, peakretreats.co.uk). A week in a one-bedroom flat in four-star Les Chalets de Flambeau in Val Cenis costs from £238pp based on four sharing, including Eurotunnel crossings with car. maurienne-tourisme.com