Skiing as a Non-skier: taking the piste?

Thinking of braving the piste? Here is my guide on skiing as a non-skier from a hectic experience taking on the French alpes.

Despite not knowing how to put skis on, I naively signed up for a week-long university trip to Alpes D’huez. Amongst my seasoned friends, I was one of the only ones who had never experienced a smooth black run on christmas morning or strict french ski school during half term, but really, how hard could skiing be?

Bus if you’re brave, flight for convenience

First off, the journey. Pack your snacks: mine were blueberry flavoured madelines and cola bottles - starting my week off strong with some french cuisine, of course. The Alpes are no joke and if, like me, you struggle with motion sickness, travel sickness pills are an absolute must if you don’t want to see your snacks make a grand reapperance in your M&S bag. After a ferry ride to Calais, and a long wait thanks to strikes, our bus took us all the way up the seemingly never-ending, winding mountain to reach our resort. This horrendous route didn’t end too well for the poor soul sitting next to me - I will not look at blueberry flavoured madeleines again in the same way. Remember the travel pills. Even if you don’t suffer from travel sickness, altitiude sickness can affect people in mysetrious ways…I wouldn’t take the risk if you haven’t experienced it before. Our 36 hour journey took its toll and I quickly decided that I would rather not have to experience that again and so immediately booked a return flight for the way back - breaking the bank was more than necessary on this occasion.

Layers, layers, more layers…and a hip flask

I’m assuming most people have experienced snow and if so, it’s pretty obvious what you’re going to need clothing wise. But, beware, this is not “let’s go and frolic in the snow, snow” - if you try and make a snow angel you will most likely not be returning to the surface. This is some serious snow and you need to be well equipped for it to avoid losing all sensation in your toes.

As a first time skier, you are most likely going to fall. Be prepared to fall and it won’t seem like such a slushy thump when it comes around. The seasoned skiers may look fashionable in their 90s Ralph Lauren sweaters and polo necks, but they won’t fall (mostly). Don the classic skiing attire underneath a waterproof jacket to save yourself from turning up to apres looking like you’d rather be lying on a beach. Check the weather before you go, because you need to find the perfect balance of layers so as not to freeze or sweat your suncream off from overheating in your thermals. You will also need comfortable trousers as skiing is basically a constant squat - a free BBL but you’ll pay for it in pain. Thick socks are also a must to protect you from both the cold and the boots digging into your shins.

Still sounds fun?

You can rent helmets, boots and skis but bring your own gloves (recommend ones with fingers rather than mittens for better grip) and UV protected ski goggles. Make sure to take a good friend to collect your ski equipment with: you’re going to be seriously humbled when step one is put on the boots and you stare at the buckles, blankly. Maybe it was just me, but the whole outfit was a maze, so prepare to ask for help with the basics and accept you’ll be a running joke for the week - it’s what you deserve.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly…

So, a little recap of my experience. It’s a slippery slope - you honestly couldn’t make this up. After our bus was delayed and our journey was extended to 36 hours, we arrived at 6am to our ski resort after the other buses full of excited uni students had already settled in and were having a peaceful nights sleep ahead of their first day on the slopes. After throwing up all my madelines and waking the entire bus up, not that anyone was really sleeping, I collapsed on my pop up bed with a sigh of relief.

My sympathetic, well rested friends decided to leave me to snore off my journey and left a note to say they’d gone and to text when I woke up. After a couple of hours, I decided to seize the day and join them, wherever they were, after googling how to get there of course. ‘How to get on a ski lift’ was my search for the morning as I hype myself up to become the next Eddie the Eagle. Alas, it was all to no end as I soon reaslised that the room I was safely locked into could only be unlocked with a key, even from the inside, which I didn’t have (I know, WHAT sort of a system is that?). So my friend’s kind act of ensuring I was safely slumbering in the room ended up feeling more like they’d locked me into a cell, restricting me from reaching my full ski potential. I tried climbing out the window - nope. Travel insurance would not cover a broken leg from that. Then tried chatting to my neighbours who found the whole scenario hilarious and somewhat inconvenient as they chilled with a gin and tonic in their unlocked room. They sent for the hotel staff who, of COURSE, did not have a spare key and told me in broken English that my only hope was to ask my friends to ski back down and free me. Well, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. I lost to the black run in the popularity contest and ended up scrolling tiktok for 5 hours before they decided they had reached the end of an acceptable time to leave me waiting. By the time they came and released me, we giggled about the mishap and the fact I hadn’t managed to upack a single thing during free time. This was until I realised I had missed my first ski lesson and was then not allowed to attend any others for the rest of the week, that I had already paid for, due to “safety reasons”. No refund and no lesson meant dolla down the drain and lessons learned. Or not learned.

Getting on the slopes felt like I was learning to walk while all of my friends could finish a triathlon blindfolded. I trailed behind them all as they taught me to “pizza” down the slopes (see photo for reference...) sticking to the green runs for the first day and being restricted to the restaurants on flat land. It was all rather entertaining for them until they realised I wasn’t pretending and genuinely couldn’t navigate my way around without going at a ridiculously slow pace. So, one by one they dropped off back to the blacks to do what they actually came here to do. Luckily I found a group of gals who also couldn’t ski and we spent the first couple of days snowballing our way down the green runs as we all failed to find our ski legs.

After a couple of sessions, my friends thought they would Lucy-sit for the day and so took me on a little excursion on the second day of the trip. After telling me about an amazing lunch spot that “everyone was going to”, I blindly followed them through the runs in the hopes of nasi goreng and a hot chocolate at the end. This was a huge mistake. They completely logged out from the fact that I was a beginner and accidentally took me on a red run…it was steep and bendy and I silently cried my way down as my friends made a human barrier around me so I didn’t slide off the cliff. A major plus for wearing big goggles: no one can tell when you’re crying and believing this is the end of the road for you - the pathetic look is not so chic. So, my advice is do not follow your friends before you’re ready to do so, no matter how bad your fomo gets. Stick to what you know until you’ve gained some confidence, and even then, don’t jump the gun. When skiing goes wrong, it can go really wrong.

A major selling point for a skiing holiday (if I haven’t sold it to you already…) is the apres. It really is as fun as it looks and is the perfect way to end a rather stressful day of learning an extreme sport. Forget about your near death experiences and bruised shins and top up on your goggle burn with a bottle of wine. Although, this wouldn’t be apres if it didn’t follow the trend of the holiday: disaster struck once again. As we all sifted through piles and piles of skis once the bar was kicking everyone out, I realised mine had been taken. Waiting until there was one pair left, I gave up and took those. I said I would take the ski lift down alone (wasn’t going to brave another red run) and told my friends to go ahead. They slipped theirs on and vanished down the piste as I was ushered in.

Don’t think it can get worse? I was the last to leave and left so late due to trying to find my skis, that half way down the mountain, they decided there can’t have been anyone left and stopped the lift. Great. Alone and panicking, I stuck my stolen ski out the window and helplessly waved it around to try and get somones attention. Eventually, someone must have noticed a helpless newbie dangling in a static lift, and so it started moving again. Panic over but I’ll never get on one alone again.

It doesn’t end there. I arrived at the bottom only to find a barren resort with not a single skier in sight - everyone had got the bus to the next apres. Perfect. Trudging along with my oversized skis and a growing headache, I decided the ski life was not for me. However, just as I was giving up and dreaming of beach holidays and rolling blue waves, my luck finally struck. In the distance, I saw a straggling girl who looked like she had also been separated from the uni group so I approached her, hoping we’d be able to help each other. When I looked down at her skis, I couldn’t believe it: they were mine. This girl, who had clearly gone too hard at apres, had “accidentally” taken my skis in a hurry to get down to catch the bus for the next apres. She told me rather incoherently that the ones I had were hers and so we did a swift swap and a collective sigh of relief that neither of us was going to have a big fine at the end of the holiday. I said you couldn’t write it.

This seriously lucky encounter gave me a new surge of energy, cancelling out the rest of the bad luck I had experienced on the trip. I hopped on a bus that I hoped was the right one, probably testing my luck a little too prematurely. My luck prevailed and I arrived at the right place to find my group already with a bottle of wine, cheering at my survival and apologising that they forgot me in their hurry to get on the bus. Overjoyed that I had found my skis, and finding the situation far too hilariously ridiculous to find any reason to be annoyed, I told them all about my newfound luck. I ordered a drink and collapsed on the bench. What. A. Day.

Round up of my advice

Going on your first ski holiday surrounded by experienced skiers can be a little frustrating, seeming like the younger sibling who’s legs aren’t quite long enough to catch up with their older siblings' games. Make sure there are some people on your level in your group, or even better, someone slightly more confident but not wanting to try any more than a green or blue. Start off slow and build your confidence skiing with someone who knows what they are doing - this is helpful when you find yourself in a situation where you’ve slipped and are hurtling down the slope on your back. Trust me.

Bottom line is, it is an incredible experience and definitely should not be missed just because you didn’t attend a school in the alpes the day you skied out of the womb. Accept that you won’t be as good as everyone else and enjoy the level you can ski at. The apres are common ground - you don’t need to be taught how to do that. Enjoy it and celebrate another day surviving the slopes.