A first time skier
I can still remember the first time I put on a pair of skis. Having anticipated a full day with some sort of attractive Swiss guide, we were sent out onto the slopes to fend for ourselves after what can barely be described as a lesson. It was part of a multi-activity holiday, and I think because it was towards the end of the fortnight, the instructors were a bit fed up with teaching; they wanted to go off in search of some black run adrenaline for themselves.
So they pointed the few of us who were new to skiing down a gentle slope, showed us the ’pizza wedge'method, which we should employ when we waned to slow down or stop, and left us. My best friend and I stumbled along doing this for a short while, before deciding that we were perfectly proficient and we would be fine to tackle some of the proper slopes.
The trouble was we weren’t entirely sure about the grading system, and got confused between green (easiest) and red (almost hardest).
So we glided off gently from the ski lift, at the top of the longest red route on the piste. We clumsily made our way round the first corner, where the gradient was still very gradual, and before we knew it were faced with a terrifyingly steep slope. With a sort of giggly panic we both made attempts at the pizza wedge. Realising that there was no other way down, we watched the other passing skiers – the faster ones taking more direct lines, and the slower ones making more pronounced zig-zags. With our basic corner-turning ability, we decided that slow zig-zags were the only way to avoid certain death, and started to make our way down the slope. Left. Right. Left. Right. With skiers zooming past us at every turn we made our descent in what we were told was a record time of 1 hour and 20 minutes! I have never been happier to see Val Thorens accomodation in my life after that.
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