When Bernice said to me back in April last year that Marie was organising a ski trip for
“wrinkly beginners” and asked if I was interested, my response was “count me in.” Little
did I know what I was letting myself in for! My family thought I was mad and the general
response was “Mum, you're not serious?”. My husband decided to come along too (just to
keep an eye on me I think), which surprised everyone even more. As I have a bit of a
reputation for being rather accident-prone, family and friends were convinced I would come
back in plaster.
Undeterred and after many emails between Marie and the rest of the group, plus numerous
visits to Lidl, Aldi and Decathlon for bargain ski wear, we finally congregated at Marie's
house early one Sunday morning in February and boarded the mini-buses for Stansted.
On arrival in Aosta the first stop was Interski to be kitted out with boots, skis, poles, etc.
We trooped upstairs (yes upstairs) to the boot room for the first test of endurance –
standing up and trying to walk with about half a ton on each foot! How was I ever going to
make it to the gondola, never mind actually ski?
After a sleepless night, due to excitement, anticipation or sheer terror (I'm not sure which),
we boarded the coach and headed for Interski to collect our gear. Wow, did that boot room
smell in the mornings! After making it downstairs, collecting our skis and, in some cases, our
helmets (with my accident history, I thought it wise to have one), we started the long walk
to the gondola (it was actually only a few hundred yards, but it felt like a mile!). I'm sure I
looked like Douglas Bader with his tin legs as I found that if I swung my arms and threw my
legs forward I could actually walk in those boots, but by the time I reached the gondola I
was worn out – where was I going to get the energy to ski?
We all scrambled or fell into the gondola cars and off we set up the mountain. There had
been no snow in Aosta, but suddenly an amazing white wonderland opened up in front of us
and gazing around at the magnificent views, I thought “even if I can't ski, it has got to be
worth the effort for this.”
We assembled in the Yeti Bar to prepare ourselves for the day's exertions with their
wonderful hot chocolate and to meet our instructors. After the ride up on the chair lift to
the nursery slopes, the next step was to get the skis on. How on earth do people get from
A to B with these great long planks sticking out in front of their feet? Trying not to slide
downhill once they were on was an art in itself!
First lesson was how to stop – we did an awful lot of snow-ploughing. Panic tended to set in
as soon as we started to speed up (well, it seemed like speed to me). Towards the end of the
first afternoon, our instructor said we were going to ski off the chair lift – “What? You have
to be joking!!”. Well it was a joke – nearly all of us fell in heap, and to be honest, by the end
of the week, I still hadn't really mastered it. Three and four year old kids do it no bother and
they were whizzing past us at great speed – enough to give anyone a complex.
That night, exhausted and with aching muscles (well massaged with Ibuprofen Gel and
doped with Ibuprofen tablets), we fell into bed. Chris snored his way through the night, but
once again I couldn't sleep. I kept seeing myself going out of control and remembering the
numerous spectacular falls of the day.
However, next day we were ready for more punishment. I decided I hated it and wondered
what on earth I was doing trying to learn to ski at my age, but not being one to give up
easily, off I set again. On the second day our two groups were re-arranged a bit and some
of us joined Graham's group (look on the internet under grahambutcher.co.uk and you will
see us).
By Wednesday we were all actually beginning to enjoy ourselves and we made sure Graham
didn't push us too hard. It was getting easier to walk in the boots and with all the other gear
on, but what a marathon task it was going to the loo! It was okay for the men, but us ladies
had to almost strip off, so plenty of time had to be allowed for that operation after lunch.
Friday dawned and we were really looking forward to the day. We pottered about on our
own till Graham joined us for the lesson and all felt that extra hour had done us all good.
We were still falling over occasionally, but we were managing to go faster and Graham
decided we were ready for the steepest of the nursery slopes. One by one, we set off down
the hill and Bob Logan almost managed to wipe out a group of snowboarders who were
sitting in the middle of the slope (well it was a stupid place to sit!!), minutes after Graham
had told us that skiers called snowboarders “targets” .... “Do you think I can ski down
there on my own?” I asked Graham. “Don't see why not” he replied and off I set. Well, I
couldn't fall this time, I was on a mission ... with more determination than skill, I made it
to the bottom ...
By this time, we all decided that we were going to ski down the last bit rather than take the
chair lift. Yeti Bar here we come! We all made it, although I did have a slight mishap when I
seemed to be going rather fast and couldn't slow down. I skied up the side of the bank, slid
down again and with Graham's steadying hand, managed to get upright and continue to the
end of the run. We had all finished on a high and felt great.
All in all, we had a fantastic week. The company was great, the scenery was amazing, the
skiing was an experience not to be missed and the après ski was great fun. Thank you Marie
and Interski. Some of us have already signed up for next year!
(P.S. When I walked into the Nottingham Scottish the following Thursday, the comments
were generally “What, no plaster?”. I hope they weren't too disappointed).