Skiing at the Roc d'Enfer, Haute Savoie
Last week I went skiing with my son, completing the circuit of the Roc d’Enfer, a few kilometres north of Morzine. The access station is disconnected from the main resorts of the Portes du Soleil and hence largely overlooked by the hordes that flock to their overcrowded slopes. In four hours, we saw perhaps fifteen people, gliding through tree lined rides that feel more like back country than a maintained piste.
Which hints at the complicated relationship I have with skiing.
For decades I dismissed it as a ‘sport’ (note the italics and scare quotes) of thrill seekers who had little knowledge of – or care for — the mountains. My view was shaped by a climbing accident in my twenties when the nearby glacier skiers could offer no assistance. And over the years that attitude hardened; I’d like to claim from an increasing awareness of its environmental damage, but, in truth, as much a disdain for the boorish mix of alcohol and adrenaline that’s stereotypical of snow sport tourism.
If that makes me sound like an old grinch, then I suppose I was — and sometimes still can be.
And yet, here I am in my mid-sixties, regularly skiing with my family, and loving the thrills as much as the sport’s capacity (no italics or scare quotes this time) to smooth the differences in our age and fitness. Having started in my fifties, I’m not especially good, but I’m competent enough to enjoy the landscape and discover valleys and vistas that would not otherwise come my way.
Do I regret those years of curmudgeonly attitude? Not really, because I filled them with other activities, and as I said, the relationship remains complicated. Skiing will never replace my love of climbing; I still have concerns about its over commercialisation, and as for its safety record, my eldest son lost his best friend in a tragic accident that could so easily have been avoided.
But despite all this, I have come to look forward to the season, enjoying the winter like never before. And as I get older, with more of those behind me than ahead, I reckon that’s as good a reason as any to take a broader and more positive perspective.
A slightly amended version of this post was published in the AAC (UK) monthly newsletter.
I didn't learn how to sky until I was in my twenties and probably only did it for ten years. My husband at the time was an expert skier, so didn't ski with me, and my children quickly outpaced me. My legs were never strong enough to turn well and I finally just gave up, that and the price.
ReplyDeleteHari Om
ReplyDeleteA works outing to the Pentland Ski Centre (Edinburgh) some forty years back was all that was required for me to know I'd never ski again. I love to watch it on the Olympics, though! YAM xx
I skied as a teenager and young adult. Moving to the tropics put paid to any more of that, and I have not taken it up again since our return. I loved the proximity to nature and the feeling of almost flying down the hills. It's a beautiful activity, but now so very costly. I'm so glad that you were able to ski with your son.
ReplyDeleteSeveral years ago we rented a cabin for a few days with our children and grandchildren to go skiing. Everyone had a wonderful time, except me, for I became quite ill with a flu and stayed indoors for all but the last day, when I did manage to snowshoe a little. And then, kind as I am, I shared my germs and everyone else got sick after returning home.
I have never skied and I don't intend to! Having grown up in Florida, snow skiing was completely alien to me. (I have water skied, but that's not as dangerous!) I'm sure I'd break something if I tried, and having never broken anything I don't want to start now.
ReplyDeleteI'm all for trying new things, even those previously dismissed as not applicable to me, but then I have a severe aversion to being in a rut! My goals for February include trying at least 3 new things - the first one's tonight :)
ReplyDeletewow... mid-sixties and regularly skiing..... that is something I would like to do.
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