At the ripe old age of 25, I decided to finally give in and commit to a ski trip with my best pals. There had been numerous years previous to this one where I had considered going but always had a last minute excuse - not enough money, not enough muscles, not enough money or muscles. After a 2015 News Years Resolution of "Say yes to things" I couldn't say no and found myself committing to my first 15 hour car journey, my first chalet, my first "lets exercise for six days straight", my first time on a mountain, on a ski lift, in ski's, being filmed hurtling down a blue run with absolutely no control... you can see where this is going.
As soon as I put my out of office on the fear of what was to come set in. This was only aided by the prospect of packing an entire weeks clothes (ski clothes included - those things are bulky) into one bag. When my three amigos (i.e. car buddies for the next night and day) came to collect me they were less than impressed with my two bag approach - one for ski and one for apres, I innocently remarked. Amazingly we all made it to France in one piece, despite a warning light that came on in Calais and didn't leave us for the duration, a tantrum in a service station and french toilets with no toilet seats.
The mountains were absolutely breathtaking and it quite quickly became clear why this skiing thing was, well, a thing. Yes it was absolutely terrifying and much to the amusement of my fellow skiiers I squatted my way down the majority of the mountains, but there is nothing nicer than the sun shining on your face and feeling like you're on top of the world with your best friends.
So the question everyone has asked, would I do it again? Yes. But would I do it the same way - absolutely not. My inner diva completely came out on the trip. I was in utter shock that the fact we opted for a hot tub over ski-in-ski-out accommodation meant that we had to lug our skis and poles for what seemed like miles until we got to a ski lift. I would have gladly paid good money for the service of someone carrying my gear (or even my entire body) to the point where my skis could be snapped on and I was ready to go. There was nothing glamorous about working up a sweat through my thermals, feeling like bambi on ice and carrying my skis like a baby because I was never going to master the throwing them over my shoulder approach. I also understand that no one likes to be a beginner but when it comes to skiing it really isn't fun. The three other newbies and I spent the first day snow ploughing down what can only be described as a slight slope and then panting our way to the aladdins carpet to stand like toothpaste tubes on a conveyor belt up said slope and repeat the process over again.
My advise to any new skiiers out there - get lessons. I don't know what any of us would have done without them apart from severely hurt ourselves! Second tip - don't be afraid to fall over. It will happen. You will face plant the mountain, eat some snow that was suspiciously salty and have to do the walk of shame sans skis down the rest of the run to your group of friends who are nervously looking on hoping they won't have a full blown tantrum to deal with. And finally - if you feel faint and decide to embrace the foetal position adjacent to a busy ski lift, make sure your friends go-pro isn't still recording. It's say to safe I won't be going off piste any time soon but I hope it wasn't my last ski trip.
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