Your First Ever Ski Holiday?

A snowHead

When I was 11, I went to Cairngorm with the school.

It was 1975/6 and we drove up in a coach from Essex.

The ski equipment was somewhat rudimentary I was given leather boots with lace-up inner boot and metal clipped outer boot.

Ski brakes/stops weren't around and there was a strap to tie the ski to your leg, to prevent it zooming off on it's own in the event of a fall.

I borrowed some ski trousers from my cousin and had a hat and gloves for Christmas (C&A) and used my school coat.

I can safely say it was the coldest I have ever been in my entire life; the wind was cruel and remorseless. One poor lad got so cold, he soiled himeself!

We struggled the first day to get near the mountains because all the roads were blocked with snow and the snowplough couldn't get through.

Despite all the hardships, and despite a girl nicking my pocket money, I was hooked!

I've been skiing every year since and sometime 2 or 3 times.

Where and when was your first ski trip?

Ouch!

A snowHead

Well, the person's real but it's just a made up name, see?

1978 school trip to Serre Chevalier just after New Year, 24hrs in the school transit bus, staying in a hostel down the valley and bussing up each day. Food was 1/2 baguette and cheese for lunch every day and apparently the same stew every night, school legend says horse, I don't think I got enough meat to know. Our skis were a step up, plate bindings attached to the ski by a spring so that when you fell they swung around and clouted you in the face as you slid on your a**e. We had zero viz pretty much all week so to this day I don't have a clue what Serre looks like. Still loved it though.

Is this going to turn into a "You think you had it tough!" thread?

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1983 I think just left Uni went with my three sisters to Soll. Having thought that skiing looked a bit wimpy and real sports would have you walking up hill instead of getting a lift I loved it from the start.

Anyway, snowHeads is much more fun if you do.

Mine was in Pamporovo in the early 90's. I would have been 13 I think. I remember knowing enough German to give some directions to a lost and confused looking family in the resort and my parents being massively impressed. (the little things you remember!)
I spent the first day on the nursery slope before getting bumped up a class and hitting the top of the mountain.
I remember cheap cardboard flavoured pizza, terrifying toilet facilities, baking hot sunshine and skiing in t-shirts.
Probably the best holiday off my life!

Despite all the hardships, and despite various wives and girlfriends nicking my pocket money over the following years I was hooked!

I've missed a few years but I'm trying to get in at least 1 trip if not more each season...

Think this was my first year...

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I was 9 and one of the directors of my dads firm had a chalet in Meribel (Les Allues) and had been pestering him to go for ages, bear in mind this is now 30 years ago so I'll try and recall a few things.

We went on a sleeper coach and were dropped off in the middle of Meribel 1850 with no mobile, no clue how to contact the guy and no idea where his chalet was.

The chalet was awesome.

My outfit was awful, this pic is in a large collage in my parents house...

I fancied my ski instructor (female obv...)

I forgot my gloves so had borrowed ones.

I passed my one and 2 star badges and still have them somewhere.

I found out that french hot dogs were the gods food, half a baguett on a silver spike, fill with ketchup followed by the dog.

I went for a run on my own and got stuck in a massive queue at the base at Rond Point, mum and dad went mad. No mobiles etc.

With the exception of one year when it was my GCSE's and another when I had to buy a bathroom suite for a new house I've skied 2 or 3 weeks every year.

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Mine was cairngorm too. It was about 1980 I was 14. No one in my family skied but we used to go to Aviemore for Easter holidays and I would see all these people with skis looking like they had had a great day. So one year I saved money from Saturday job and had a weeks hire and lessons. My cousin knitted me a hat and jumper. I wore my C&A coat and jeans with leg warmers. What a tragedy. I've got a pic somewhere.
But I loved it so much that next year I saved up again bought a biginners ski, boot, poles and proper ski trousers and new coat (from C&A) and had another week of lessons and that was it hooked. 35 years later still living skiing and thanks to job change can now manage 5-6 weeks on snow every year. Magic times

After all it is free

Mine was cairngorm too. It was about 1980 I was 14. No one in my family skied but we used to go to Aviemore for Easter holidays and I would see all these people with skis looking like they had had a great day. So one year I saved money from Saturday job and had a weeks hire and lessons. My cousin knitted me a hat and jumper. I wore my C&A coat and jeans with leg warmers. What a tragedy. I've got a pic somewhere.
But I loved it so much that next year I saved up again bought a biginners ski, boot, poles and proper ski trousers and new coat (from C&A) and had another week of lessons and that was it hooked. 35 years later still living skiing and thanks to job change can now manage 5-6 weeks on snow every year. Magic times

After a bit of a rough year I moved islands, and started a summer job as a barman at the Chateau hotel, Mt Ruapehu in NZ, back in the early 80's. Decided to stay on for the winter and a colleague, who instructed during the winter, suggested to me that as a South Islander I was probably a pretty fair skier. "Of course", I replied with the pride of youth...

First day of the season, with only one lift open due to high winds saw me on the mountain desperately trying to learn to ski in a day, alone and unaided. I had never been near a ski field, knew nothing of skiing, yet was unable to admit my ignorance to anyone I knew- I even had to ask a random stranger how to fasten skis to the boots rather than ask the folks in rental.

Loading and unloading on the chairlift was a treat, as long as you were an observer, and not a liftie or sharing my chair.
On that day, the only route down the hill was a set of fairly narrow switchbacks through rocks. I had heard of the snowplough, and had a vague idea what it looked like, but had no idea of how to turn, even in theory. My descent was a repetitive process of ploughing the straights, followed by a deliberate fall to stop and change direction.

There were a few raised eyebrows a couple of days later when a group of us hit the slopes.
I was of course thoroughly hooked, and spent 8 of the next 9 seasons working in resort

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Well I was a a bit late to the party. My first holiday wasnt till I was a 30 something and I finally succumbed to the nagging of a few close friends and relatives who were avid ski nuts. So me, the OH, one of the naggy friends and his missus (3 out of 4 of us never skiied before) booked the cheapest appartment we could find in Livigno in 2007.

The teeny 2 bed place had a balcony that overlooked the nursery slope behind our appartment. I remember looking at the slope and thinking it how steep it looked but it was OK cause I wasnt gonna have to go to the top on my first day. Oh how wrong I was. I just about made it to the top of the button lift without killing myself and or others. Screamed in agony at the pain in my feet whilst waiting for the ski school sorting hat process. Managed my first ever very bad snowplough turn for the ski instructor, because I thought I was going to die, and remebered what someone had told me in a taster lesson at a dry ski slope a few years before.

By the end of the week we were sat on the balcony sipping a conconction we had named chodka (a sort of hot chocolate made with melted nutella and vodka) planning when we were coming back the next year. The little green run looked signifantly less scary Very Happy

Making up for lost time and pretty much skiied twice a year ever since and still enjoy the odd chodka

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* a repost, but anyway...tale of my first ever ski..

This post had to be written to preserve for future generations one man’s struggle against the odds, nay indeed titanic battle with himself, ski boots, David (name unchanged to identify the guilty party) and the resort of Sass Fee and everyone in it. Its long, but some demons need to be exorcised....

It was a grey and dank Friday night in downtown Nyon, in the autumn of 2008. Myself and my colleague and landlord, lets just call him “David” were sitting in front of his newly installed but not yet working telly, contemplating whether we could be bothered making the schlep down to the fisherman’s pub for a quiet libation or two, when David piped up with what sounded like the world’s best idea ever – he uttered the fateful phrase “hey mate, let’s go skiing”. ”Skiing?” quibbled I… “but it is October, nowhere will be open, there is no snow, what are you talking about? Also, I’ve never skied before and have a pretty chronic knee injury, surely this is a bad idea?” “No mate, we’ll go to Sass Fee, it’s a glacier mate, it’ll all be open, it’ll be fine”. “But David, I have no equipment, nothing, not even a pair of gloves, surely you need some stuff to ski in?” My protests fell on salted earth, as from the depths of his cave, David found an old pair of gloves and a hat, when paired with my golfing wet gear (basically a shell jacket and bottoms, gortex mind you), and a wolly jumper, I was deemed to be ready. Clearly in no mood to brook any arguments, we flung his ski’s into his trusty BMW and set off. Total elapsed time from commencing conversation about the possibility of skiing, to setting off, roughly 320 seconds.

My first indication that this was possibly not the best thought out plan came 5 minutes in, as we sped down the A1, no need for headlights as our route was perfectly well lit by speed camera flashes…”mate, mate, call Sass Fee, book some rooms, here’s my phone.” Sure enough, his phone had Sass Fee in it, as a contact. Rang Sass Fee – turned out it wasn’t the entire ski resort, just a small hotel in it. Which, unsurprisingly, was full. More surprising was that the hotel owner had a brother who was also a hotel owner. Much hilarity later, we had two rooms for the night. As we sped through the darkening night, my thoughts turned to the following days adventure. Surely I’ll need lessons, I’ve heard that that is important. Also, I’m going to a glacier, I’d heard that those tended to be quite high up. “David, will I be able to book lessons at such short notice, before the season has started, and are there very easy slopes I can go on?” “Mate, it’ll be fine, I promise”. Duly reassured, I dozed as we reached warp speed. The warp drive was working very well, we arrived 30 minutes before we’d decided to leave, impressive stuff. Parking at the outskirts of Sass Fee, the car park was noticeably…empty. Just David, me and the eerie wind….some time passed…..some more time passed…..no pick up from the hotel was possible, so we trudged to Sass Fee central, in search of the hotel belonging to the brother of the hotel owner that David knew. “Crikey, this ski stuff seems heavy” I thought, as I skidded along on the ice/snow/slush, carrying David’s skis....a foretaste of what was to come re the weight of ski equipment and those ill accustomed to humping it around. The rest of the night passed in easy companionship, as we scarfed pizza and beer in roughly 1 slice to 1 beer proportions.

Shortly thereafter, I awoke. Finding myself in a room that seemed to have been recreated from bits of the 1970’s. Everything was brown. The walls were brown, the floor was brown, the bathroom tiles were brown, the bed sheets were ……must have been the nerves. Took me an age to find my socks on the floor, mainly because they were brown…
So breakfast came and went, and duly decked out in my callaway top and bottoms, a wolly beanie and some lovely wolly gloves, we set off in search of ski gear to rent. Culture shock no 1. Ski boots are heavy. Why are they made of such stiff and hard material? Why can’t I get my foot in? Why is the man in the shop laughing? Why is David laughing? Oh, you undo the buckles first, ok. ARRGGH, my ankle won’t move!!! I can’t possibly be expected to walk in these!!! Oh wait, lessons. David said I’d be able to organize lessons, right, shop man will know about that. Shop man provides the phone number of ESS sass fee. ESS sass fee, after 300 rings, answer. I guess the phone diverts to individual people during the off season, as the voice that answered was not that of a man going about his daily grind, unless his daily grind is living like Keith Moon. No lesson was the curt summary of the situation. This clearly required pointing out to my sensei. “David, I can’t get a lesson, what’ll we do?” “Don’t worry mate, I have you covered, I’ll teach you to ski”. “Erm, are you sure? I don’t want to wreck your day….””mate, no worries, I’ll sort you out, I’ve taught plenty of beginners”. OK then.

About 10 years of my life later, we made it to the gondola. The shop was fully 100 metres from the lift, I slipped and slid, dropping skis, gloves, poles…. But all would be fine, the plan was to exit at the first stop of the alpine express I, where there would be easy blue…..oh wait, its not stopping there, no pistes open. Apline express II to Felskinn, that’ll be fine, plenty of…ohhhh not stopping there either..Aplin Metro to Allalin it is so, choice of pistes, Red, or Black. Take your pick.

Upon exiting the Alpin Metro, I was hit with a wall of sensation. Mostly fear, but hypothermia and pain were in there as well. The metro emptied, skiiers swished off, happily hooting and hollering at the crystal snowy expanse that awaited them. I stood there, stabbing my hobbled feet at a pair of bindings that didn’t want to take them. Eventually, by hand, David cranked me into the skis. “Now what”? I enquired, curious as to what my skiing guru had planned. “Erm, ski down mate, like this.” He swooped down 50 metres or so, to where the piste started with a tunnel of snow either side. Gingerly I followed, this was easy. Hang on, how do I stop? Or turn? Fuuuucccccckkkkkkkkkk. Ok, that’s how you stop, you ski into the snowdrift. Seems fine. “Mate, what are you doing? To stop do this” (parallel stops). To turn, do this (parallel turns).” Great, thanks, helpful . Follow tunnel of snow, stopping by smashing into the side every 10 metres. Reverse, aim for the other side, go again. Great. Eventually, the tunnel of terror ends and the piste opens up to a majestic vista of Alp. Gulp. No more snow drifts. However, the first bit was super wide, and not so bad. Follow Mr Myagi across the piste, erm, gingerly. Make two turns that took about 3 minutes each to perform. Mr Myagi decides I can ski. “Mate, I’m just going to do a run, keep doing what you’re doing”.

WHAT? WHAT? PARDON? EXCUSE ME? FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCKK, oh he’s gone, its just me, on my own, on this mountain, now what worked before? Oh yes, skiing sideway till you hit a ….. …. …. …… no snowbank, nothing…..ah, red pole sticking out the ground. Grab on, hold tight. Take deep breaths, mop furrowed brow. Wait. Time passes. Wait some more. More time passes. A noise from above starts to intrude on my consciousness. Ignore noise, can’t be anything to do with me. More noise. Noise starts to sound agitated, agitated noises can be entertaining. Look up. See about 20 people gesticulating wildly at the moron who is holding onto their slalom course gate. Crap Crap Crap Crap Crap. Retreat sheepishly backwards, with no grace or dignity. Fall over, sit on your skis. Wait, it couldn’t be, the embarrassment couldn’t get worse….it does, as the entire Swiss adaptive skiing team skis their slalom course, start delayed by 5 minutes at least by ….erm…me.

First adaptive skier down has just the one ski, just the one leg. He glares at me as he passes, no doubt thinking “what is this MONUMENTAL GOBSHITE doing on this mountain”? Monumental gobshite is thinking the same thing. One by one, the entire group descends, however after skier number one, their gazes turn from rage to ones of pity, as my attempts to stand up again have made it increasingly obvious that in this terrain, I’m the one with the problem.

Make it slowly and painfully over to the other side of the piste. Fall over, as I hit my first powder. Skis release. “Thank Christ”, says I. Decide it’ll be simpler just to walk down the mountain. In 2 metres of powder. At about a 25 degree slope. It isn’t. Several lifetimes and 20 cubic metres of perspiration later, Mr Myagi reappears. “Hey mate, hows it going”? he enquires, glibly. “GET ME DOWN THIS MOUNTAIN NOW”, I demand not unreasonably. “AND I’M NOT SKIING”, I add, again not unreasonably in the circs. “Mate, you’ll have to go down like I’ve seen dads with kids, ski behind me and hold on.” Little did the maestro realize that the person behind in this scenario, with his ski’s outside the others, is the one that does the steering. HA, HA, HA. The sensation of being out of control as we descend, him flailing around, his skiis going over mine, my ski’s blissfully unmoving, was the one saving grace. His increasing embarrassment as we sped towards the restaurant at the base, where Swiss, German, Austrian ski teams were all partaking of their afternoon’s coffee break was simply glorious to behold.

We vowed never to speak of it again.

I lied.

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@coddlesangers,
Missed that first time Brilliant just brilliant.
Laughing

@coddlesangers, I'm crying... Laughing

You know it makes sense.

1997, Les Gets, learned with my 2 brothers (Tim Scott was the teacher). Day 1 was a group lesson of 5. Days 2,3,4 was a group lesson of just us 3 as one of the others had skied before so upgraded 1 class, the other was too cautious so swapped to private lessons. So our group lesson was just us for most of the week. 1 guy from the Morzine class joined us on the last day.
My skis flapped like a Rofl Harris wobble board.
My youngest brother skied over the tails of my skis, and tested the DIN 1 release.
Oh and on day 1, his method to stop was "crash in to a 3 year old, and then both crash in to a fence".
One other guy in the chalet had a birthday during the week, so that night ended up as a disco with the Au Pair and Chalet girl dancing on the dining table. The next day was birthday boy chundering out of the minibus going round the hairpins on the way down from Les Cornus, and then also decided to "decorate" Chavannes from the chairlift. I do feel sorry for the guys that got rained upon.

Otherwise you'll just go on seeing the one name:

Pal, Andorra - school trip, Easter 1987. First time abroad too. Had a stunningly beautiful ski instructress called Nani. 6 bluebird days and two huge powder dumps overnight.
Skied everywhere with my mates in an 80mph snowplough on 2M 10cm skis. Played chairlift chicken with me mates - someone alwys ended up going back down. Got sunstroke and missed the last day's skiing. 36 hour trip down because the coach drivers went the wrong way. Listened to Talk Talk's 'The Colour of Spring' whilst being driven over the Col de Envalira (2400m pre tunnel days) with 10ft of snow at the sides of the roads. Best week of my life.

Aslo found you could be 5litres of wine in a bucket for £2. The bucket came un useful later once you'd drunk it.....

A snowHead

1971

I was 4 1/2.

I got my first skis. No boots though, wellies pressed into service. Not a good experience for me, terminal for the wellies. Definitely, positively the most painful ski and boot related experience I have had.

As I type, on the train to Mürren and another Inferno.

It's an expensive addiction snowHead

I'm pretty sure I could have bought a fleet of Aston Martins instead.

A snowHead

I was 22 and the parents decided they couldn't be bothered with Christmas so took me, my brother and my sister to Arinsal in Andorra.

The gondola from the village to the slopes scared the bee-jaysus out of me, but within a few days I was paralleling, and was hooked.

Xmas dinner in the Argentinian steakhouse was superb, cementing my new found love for the mountains. My Dad hated the whole experience, tore his calf muscle on Day 1 and spent the rest of the week in the pub lol! He's never been back to the mountains, whilst I'm now preparing for my 10th trip in 8 years Happy

Well, the person's real but it's just a made up name, see?

@Giffordpikes, chodka sounds amazing. Do you have the recipe?

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1977 Niederau Austria, school trip by train from Manchester to Dover (3 changes), ferry to Boulogne, train to Wörgl (5 changes). Rented ski suit, woolly hat knitted by my nan, leather ankle-high ski boots with metal clips, leg leashes on very skinny skis. Loved it. Went on every school ski trip thereafter, even the ones where they flew us to Italy and Yugoslavia.

Anyway, snowHeads is much more fun if you do.

School trip when I was 15 (1983) to Voss in Norway - no idea why there, must have been cheap !!

Bluebird days, amazing wide beautifully prepared pistes (my skiing had been limited to Hillend, Glenshee and Aviemore to that point) but when we tried to sneak off to buy booze we found that (a) there was no off licence type places and the pubs were >21 and (b) it would have been astonishingly expensive anyway.

Didn't go abroad skiing again for various reasons until 2000 when I went to Tignes and have been away every year (mostly Tignes, but Chamonix and Morgins in Switzerland) since.

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On my first trip to Cairngorm in 1975 (See Above) we were all lined up in ski school; about 12 kids in a straight line and the instructor was standing in front of us talking about the snowplough, or something, in an unintelligible Glaswegian accent.

While he was making his explaination, a lone ski, with nobody attached to it, came flashing past us it went straight down the fall line at about 100+mph and passed between our ski tips and the ski tips of the instructor. He looked shocked. It missed us all by about a foot.

About 2 minutes behind it, came a bloke skiing on 1 ski shouting "SKIIIIII!" at the top of his lungs.
He'd forgotten to tie the strap to his leg and it was now a lethal, ballistic, object, heading in the direction of Avimore.

I am convinced it would have killed someone, had it hit them. But my recollection is, we never saw it, or the skier again.

Thank the Lord for ski stops

Ouch!

Then you can post your own questions or snow reports...

11 years old.

Snowbird Utah. Was only 30 minutes from our house at the time. But we slept at the Iron Blossom lodge, got to miss a week of school (because we'd gotten good grades).

Spent the evenings rolling in the snow in bathing suits and the jumping in the heated pool. Came back to condo everyday for lunch and ate chili with shreaded cheese on top. We were already fairly accomplished skiers skiing every weekend at Park City, but at the time, Jupiter Bowl was not really in operation, so Snowbird definitely offered us more challenge.

Visibility was -0-, remember singing to myself "Blinded by light".... visibility skiing of the tram had to be less than 0. There were other kids staying there which joined us to cause trouble.

Best vacation ever. So much fun. If I could roll back the clocks.

After all it is free

@Ouch!, ha ha first safety lessons, if you hear "ski!" Locate and avoid, if you see loose ski, yell "ski!", if you're going to fast, sit down sideways (works when you're a little kid anyway).

@coddlesangers, Can't beat that. Flailing around on greens and easy blues for a week just cannot compete with such an awful experience.

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Glenshee with the school for a week. Too far back to remember exactly but it'd have been P6 or 7, so possibly 1979/80.Can't remember much of it to be honest, and what I do remember was mainly of juvenile 'shenanigans' in the hotel in the evenings, driving the poor teachers mad.

Of the skiing, I do remember spending a huge amount of my time falling over, particularly on the Sunnyside Pomas as they tried to launch me into orbit every time (I was quite small then, even for my age). In fact, I don't think those Sunnyside pomas have improved much in nearly 40yrs, they still seem to be rather 'harsh'.

Family weren't skiers so can't remember going after that until a week at Cairngorm with the TA when I was in my early 20s, effectively getting paid to ski. After that trip I was hooked.

Had been in school ski club and mainly skied Cairngorm (with '10 run' tickets) and also the Lecht. First actual ski holiday was with the school to, funnily enuff, Voss. Also, I think, in 82. We, too, were in a sort of youth hostel type building, and shared with a bunch of kids from the NE, that we assumed were Geordies. I remember them turning up and telling us we were at war! We were all a bit sceptical. It was also my first time abroad and first time on a plane.
Things that stick in the memory:
The transfer and the sheer drop of the fjords v narrow roads v wide bus whilst Bat Out Of Hell was played on a tape deck non-stop.
Buying my folks a souvenir, the cheapest & tackiest longboat in the shop, because everything was so expensive.
Getting silver in the end of week slalom.
Whilst practising jumps in our lesson, getting a wave from the instructor after the first Geordie had gone. Then him waving more and more frantically as I got closer. Then going over jump and just missing said Geordie who was lying with a broken leg/ankle, and hearing his scream as they took off his boot in-situ whilst we were going back up on the chair.
My mate's suitcase breaking open and seeing his stuff spread over the luggage carousel.

You know it makes sense.

school trip, Andalo italy, circa 1978. extremely hot ski instructor, can't remember her name but can still she those tight ski pants Toofy Grin

. went the next year to sappada, Italy again, bluebird days, sunbathing on the hotel balcony and skiing in t-shirts. went again to Switzerland when i was 18 with a mate, we went with the school and help out in the mornings and had free skiing all afternoon. remember a small beer and OJ costing £5 in 1980! ouch!
had a 30 year gap, marriage, children etc. now going every year and loving it!

Otherwise you'll just go on seeing the one name:

I was a late starter, in my mid 20's when I first went to Borovets on a 'learn to ski package' in about 1992. I only went because the company I worked for at the time gave us a bonus as a result of a re-organisation and a ski trip seemed a good thing to do with the money.

My wife and I went together and took all day group lessons (4 hours a day) which were the biggest laugh I have had skiing, so many of us having no idea what to do , completely random falls and topped off by quite a large guy from our group losing his snowplough and going straight through a kids lesson, picking up a girl he would have collided with and skiing on with her lifted off the ground , her skis waving in the breeze.

Beer was about 30p a pint back then and with all the après ski not sure how we really survived the week but got through it and we were hooked. Apart from the occasional year off when our children were born we have been every season since (often more than once) and now love skiing with the family.

I have often wondered what it would be like to go back to Borovets and see the red runs that come back to the village that I was terrified of accidentally sliding onto as our beginners group cut across them on the round the mountain track. Only thing is don't think I'd survive another full week there now at my age !!

A snowHead

A snowHead

@Giffordpikes, oooooh sounds good. Something to think about if we have a vodka party at EOSB (but I don't think we're alowed to have them any more, too many hospitalisations).
Or just good for a warm up after a long day on the slopes. Thanks

Well, the person's real but it's just a made up name, see?

I was another late starter. Went for the first time age 30 and was instantly hooked. A two week learn to ski deal in Sauze Doux. Lessons in the morning then I would ski like a lunatic all afternoon reckoning if I did not fall at least twice a run I was not trying.

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I was a very late starter at the age of 35. I had just started a contract in Sweden and our boss decided in the interests of team building it would be good for team morale if we spend some of our leisure time together. So after one day learning to snowplough on a short municipal ski run in Stockholm I got the bug and then it was spending each weekend driving to the mountains and learning to ski properly with one of the other lads showing me how to do parallel turns and hockey stops.

Anyway, snowHeads is much more fun if you do.

1971 school trip to Reith, bei Seefeld in Austria. I was 13, and like ouch!, I had leather lace up boots, inners and then outers. As there was very little snow in Reith, I have ever since been hyper conscious about skiing at the optimum time of year, (Feb ish), and invariably high and snowsure. As there was little snow we were bused up to a high pass, there were no lifts, so we had to learn by side stepping up the slope. This seemed perfectly normal, and despite this I have wanted to ski every year since. It helped that our school party (all boys -despite being at a co-educational comprehensive),was taken twice up the pass on the road to an out of the way bar where 15 or so 13 and 14 years old were allowed a beer or 2. A great start that I have tried to replicate ever since snowHead

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1972 Vinje, Norway. I was 11 years old and had adult size 11 feet. School (trip) ordered boots size 11s and they gave me little kiddies. Only adult size 11s available were an instructor's, with the accompanying massive skis and as per @twoodwar leather boots with wire (savannah?) bindings. I was useless (not just because of the oversized skis), but loved it. Didn't go back again for 11 years despite nagging - my father had skied in Switzerland as a young chef in posh hotels, but was not keen to repeat the experience - to be honest I have still not forgiven him. Next time was in Panticosa in Spain - 2 weeks £200, great weather, cheap wine and goats herded down the centre of the village each morning - totally hooked!

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March 2012 to La Tania aged 34.
I'd done a few hours lessons on a dry slope and a day at Glenshee prior to this.
I went with a very experienced friend who helped me a great deal (and has continued to do so). It was awesome.
On Saturday I'm going for my 15th ski trip abroad so it's fair to say I got the bug pretty badly.

After all it is free

late starter too , in 1999 at 37 yrs old was advised by a more experienced mate , to cross the pond for my first ski trip , so off we went to killington in vermont , turned out to be great advice , they had a fantastic approach to mature beginners and the lessons began in the classroom with a masterclass in all the basics , i.e putting on boots and skis , what to do when you fall over , slope etiquette etc , then progressed from beginner meadow to chair lift and blue runs in two days , and by the end of the week was pretty confident on all pistes , kids loved it and we have been every year since , but must admit was a bit of a shock to realise on our next trip to grindlewald that snow was actually soft and fluffy , as opposed to groomed ice Skullie

Andalo, Italy. I was 15 or 16, vaguely 1984. Possibly the first time I'd been on a plane (I think I'm remembering overnight coaches from French and German language trips but not skiing - it's all hazy these days...). Borrowed salopettes from one friendly neighbour, jacket from another I think, doubtless topped off with Aunty's knitted bobble hat. Our PE teacher also taught classes at Uxbridge dry slope (I lived in Harrow) so I arranged to go there for an hour or possibly two. Thought I got the hang of that snow-plough lark but the button lift was a bit vicious. Arrived in Italy, got doled up, trudged out to the snow. Got on the chair (no magic carpet those days), somehow got off at the top. The beginner run from the top of the chair was a dog leg back down to the bottom, carved out of a load of snow by a snow-plow or basher, so there was big walls of snow at the edges. Several of us who'd been to Uxbridge then found that snow was a lot slippier than dry slope nylon brush, and despite our best leaning on the left leg, carried straight on into the chest-high wall of snow halfway down. Much hilarity among the beginners (of course there were always the rich kids who'd been before and knew everything - but where's the fun in that?) I hope I'm not confusing this with the next holiday (Flaine), but I'm pretty sure we then were taken to a higher level field/run in the afternoon, at the end of which the instructor said "that's it for the lesson. That's a red run. You can either chair down or ski down." Several chose to chair. Bloody-minded and money-conscious as ever - I'm a Londoner, but with Yorkshire and Scottish blood! - I thought "I'm not coming all the way out here to sit on a chair" so I skied down. By which I mean, slid/fell, slid/fell, slid/fell, stopped for breath, slid/fell, slid/fell, stopped, cursed, wondered what the hell I was doing, slid/fell....

Ah, those were the days.

*Ski* the Net with snowHeads

Love the 34, 35 and 37 year old 'late' starters !

First trip 2007 at 60 with my son and 3 of his mates in a very cramped 1 bedroomed apartment.
Had dry slope lessons at the Bowles Centre Eridge in the weeks before the trip.
He invited me along because it was on my retirement bucket list - La Plagne Soleil - absolutely hooked.
Second and third trips to Meribel and St Anton each time staying in 16 person chalets with 15 thirty-somethings which in itself was a whole new experience.
Been a couple of times every year since.

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