(February 2014)
I'd always dreamed of trying to ski and seen pictures of people sat on terraced bars high on the side of a mountain drinking and then twisting and turning their way to the valley floor through deep powder and trees. So once I found out one of friends Dave was up for heading out for a trip I jumped at the chance.
My snow education began in the not so alpine Tamworth, a small town in Staffordshire which just happens to have a rather large indoor ski slope. I booked myself into a course called 'Ski in a day' which sounded just the ticket for preparing for a trip to the mountains on my first skiing adventure. I arrived at the SnowDome and was kitted out with boots, helmet, ski's and a pile of paperwork to sign and fill out. Our instructor for the day was a veteran ski guide that had worked all over the world and he soon had us sliding down the beginner slopes balancing on one leg and making the critical V shaped position with our ski's essential for stopping and turning. As the day progressed I started removing more and more clothing as I had never realised how much work falling over and getting back up was on an icy slope, and skiing is pretty hard work as well. I progressed pretty well and was sufficiently able by the end of the day to stop, turn right, turn leftish and also dodge passing snowboarder fairly well.
Austrian Adventure
The trip started with a long three hour drive from the midlands to Gatwick Airport, and then a short two hour flight into the beautiful city of Innsbruck located at the base of a valley. We made our way outside into the coach park chaos and spent ten minutes walking around for our transfer to arrive that ferried us higher up the valley to the small valley of St Anton. We entered our lodging for the week a warm and comfortable chalet overlooking the snowfields above and the main street in the village below.
The first day started with Dave taking me up the mountain to try my first run of the trip, what he described a gentle blue that weaved its way back the base of the lift again. I clipped in and started following him slowly down the winding pistes and trails between, doing ok with my half plough and half parallel technique until I hit deeper snow and took several tumbles. I finally made it back to the base of the lift and to meet our guide for the week Connie, who knew at once her efforts must be focused on making me a more efficient skier to enjoy the trip. Shaken by the earlier encounter with my first steep and terrifying piste, she groomed my technique slowly into a fairly reliable parallel over the next two days. The week continued on well, me plodding along behind Dave and Connie on mainly blue, the occasional wide red run and then on a short terrifying section of black.
Off piste activities
The nightlife off the slopes is famous in St Anton and we sampled as much as possible without writing off a whole following day of skiing. The partying started on the slopes around half three in the afternoon at the Après ski bars like the Crazy Kangaroo and Mooserwirt, where by the time it reached half five the tables where the dance floors. We would then slide down the last few hundred metres of slopes and catch the last lifts and hobble up the final hill back to the chalet. After a shower and dinner, the town would often be calling and date with the smoke filled bars, shots of Jager and steins of beer numbed the pain of aching legs and a sore arse.
St Anton also offered a superb public pool and sauna that offered some relief to the non stop drinking after dark. We made our way to relax and refresh stripping down naked (as is Austrian tradition) and heading for the hot steaming rooms. I went for the cooler option and ended up spending 20 minutes sharing a small glass box with a sweaty American man, while Dave got two attractive ladies doing yoga. He definitely won that one!
Fearing for my life
As Connie left us for the final few days to explore by ourselves, we decided to head across to the opposite valley and explore Lech another small village. The bus took us up the pass and across through the worst condition of the holiday to the base of the large gondola that would transport us up into the mountains. The snow fell gently through the air and the sky was grey and bleak, we began weaving our way across the hillside. My confidence seemed at a all time low today as with an hour I had seen one person get airlifted off the mountain on a fairly easy stretch of the slope. I soon struggled to turn and had to take an extended lunch break to regain some confidence. I dogged the rest of the day and retreated for a night's rest.
The final day turned out to be perfect, if not icy conditions on the piste. I started off steadily making a few runs down some twisting blues, dodging the daily mogul (a hard bump of snow) build up. But my brain was still doubting my ability to ski and focusing on the deadly drops off the edges of the runs and the risk of tumbling down the steep icy banks. I once again had to take a step back and headed for a break, before returning to the slopes to meet Dave for lunch. I stomached up enough determination to make a final few runs of the holiday and even ventured back onto a red (intermediate) slope.
The holiday was drawing to a close and was finished off in style at the Fang House Après bar overlooking the mountains. Of course complete with some half litre steins of beer and some shots of jäger. The next day would be our return flight home and yet another three hour drive back to the midlands.
Is it worth it?
The short answer is YES! Skiing is no doubt expensive and an often laborious process to learn even to a basic standard, but the feeling of gliding down a perfect white mountainside through the trees and with friends is amazing. And then to finish the day watching the sun set on a terraced bar with a few drinks, it doesn't get much better.
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