I first got introduced to skiing whilst on a boy Scout trip to Scotland. I was a member of the Stonnall Scout club, having started as a Cub at Primary school. My brother and I used to go down to the local scout hut in the village every Thursday evening after school. I remember it was a big deal growing up. Pretty much all of my friends at the school were also members. After going through the ceremony of getting your first woggle (major big deal for a seven year old) the objective seemed to be to try and win as many badges as possible. You won a badge for completing a task or activity. For example, there was a ‘hobby’ badge that you could get by demonstrating your knowledge in your chosen subject. If you passed the criteria outlined in the boy scout handbook you would be awarded a badge which you then sewed on to your shirt or jumper. Having a sleeve full of badges was like getting thousands of likes on Facebook. You were the man. For my hobby badge I chose Star Wars. This was an easy choice as I was completely nuts about the films and was obsessed with collecting all of the action figures. It wasn’t hard to buy me presents for birthday and Christmas. Literally anything related to Star Wars was a result as far as I was concerned. Easiest scout badge earnt ever.
It was a great social environment and we quite often went away on camping trips. These were always to sites geared up for outdoor activities. As a kid growing up it was perfect. I can’t possibly list everything that we did, but we got introduced to abseiling, climbing, orienteering, archery, horse riding and a host of others. I loved the variety. Even then it suited my desire to try as many things as possible. It was on a camping trip not far from Aviemore when I had my first skiing taster. It was during the summer so we went to the dry ski slope. We only went up and down the bottom section of the slope but we were introduced to the basics and it was great fun.
It wasn’t until a few years later that I got my second go at it. The Friary school organised a skiing trip to Austria whilst I was in my third year and my parents agreed to let me go. In preparation, myself and a few others who were novices undertook lessons at the closest dry ski slope in Atherstone. We went regularly for a few weeks and I gradually grew in confidence, eventually going from the top of the slope. One day I got a bit carried away and attempted to go a bit faster rather than the usual approach of zig zagging down. Picking up speed, I lost control and crossed my skis. The next few minutes were a blur. I knew I’d had a crash but didn’t really know what had happened. I picked myself up off the floor and made my way back to the bottom of the slop to get the button lift back up. I was just about to go down again when another skier put his hand on my shoulder and politely suggested I got off the slope. Feeling a bit groggy I followed his advice and went and got changed. It turns out I’d done a somersault and landed on my head! I had a pounding headache over the next few days so I’m pretty sure I momentarily knocked myself out. Always good to get a bout of concussion to fill you with confidence ahead of a week’s skiing holiday.
Undaunted I carried on practicing and got on the plane with the others going from the school a few weeks later. This was my first foreign trip without my parents and it was fantastic. I’m sure they were very nervous about it but I couldn’t wait. The whole thing was an adventure. When we finally arrived at the resort we sorted ourselves in to dormitories. I was in a room with five other lads, with the usual teenage banter. We probably got a few hours sleep that first night and then it was down for breakfast the next morning before getting kitted out with skis, boots and poles.
We were split in to groups based on our ability and met up with our ski instructors. The one who was in charge of the group I was in turned out to be the son of the resort owner. It soon became obvious that he was only bothered about doing exactly what he wanted to do. He didn’t like hanging around for anyone and became easily irritated by those in the group not able to keep up. We stuck to the main pistes for the first couple of days but after that he took us on his own routes. He was a bit of a poser, but he was good fun. We did powder skiing, moguls and lots of other things that we probably shouldn’t have been doing. He basically didn’t care. After all, there was no way he was going to get fired.
This was going well until the fourth day. Mr ‘too cool for this job’ took us straight to the top of the mountain, with the intention of more off-piste skiing. I came off the chair lift as usual, pushed off to start skiing when my clasp that held my right ski boot in place fell off. My instructor took one look at it and rolled his eyes. There was no way he could fix it, the only option was to go back to the hire centre for them to sort it out. Skiing on one ski wasn’t an option so I had to get back on the chair lift and make my way back down to the bottom of the mountain. Going up on a chair lift is fun, going down is pants. I was the only one going down and it was a series of lifts with some walking involved between each lift section. It took hours. When I eventually got to the hire centre I presented my broken ski to the guy behind the desk. He was about as sympathetic as a lion tamer. Muttering something about ‘doing it when I’ve got a spare minute’ he walked off and left me there standing like a proper plum. After Mr miserable finally got round to fixing my ski I was back out with the group later that afternoon.
The rest of the trip went smoothly and time flew. The instructor continued to take us on magical mystery tours and we all improved loads over the course of the week. On top of that, the setting was beautiful. Austria was a perfect location for my first snow skiing holiday. The pistes went through deep forests and the views from the mountain were breath taking. The village itself was really pretty with traditional chalets and restaurants dotted everywhere. In the evenings we had a meal in the hotel followed by some kind of entertainment, mainly discos where we did embarrassing boy dancing in a vain attempt to impress the girls. It didn’t, obviously. Sliding about on your knees pretending to play air guitar is pretty standard for lads, whereas the girls sat around blatantly ignoring us. At least we had a laugh. By the end of the week I was shattered but had had a great time. When we arrived back home our parents were waiting for us. I remember my mum coming over and being delighted to see me. She wanted to know everything about the trip, but I was in a proper grump on the drive back home. I’d had such a great time but my post-holiday blues translated in to an ungrateful teenager. Can’t say I’m proud of that.
I didn’t ski again until a number of years later. After my knee injury I was understandably nervous about doing anything that involved twisting and skiing put a lot of pressure on your knee joints. However, I hadn’t had any issues for a few years following my second ligament repair so I was willing to give it a go. I took the extra precaution of buying a reinforced knee brace and had a trial go at the new Snowdome at Tamworth before going ahead and booking a holiday to Andorra. It was as good as I remember. Spent the week exploring the routes around the mountain, getting used to be being back on the skis. There were some difficult sections where going down a black route was unavoidable, but overall it was just good fun to be on the snow again. It wasn’t long before I was going down the pistes as fast as I possibly could.
I wouldn’t say I’m the most graceful of skiers. In fact, my technique is pretty kamikaze. I’ve subsequently done holidays in Italy, Switzerland and France and my approach is always the same. Start gently for a morning, and then go full gas from then on. I’m not sure it’s the best approach for someone with a dodgy knee but I like the adrenaline rush of flying down a mountain.
I always come back from these holidays more tired than I was before I went but they are great fun and are an amazing leg workout. Probably great preparation for long distance events, although I’m not sure the muscle groups or the injury risk factor necessarily support a build up to an Ironman. Maybe not one to include on the training programme this time round