Go reader NIAMH DARCYrecalls the twists and turns of her first time on the ski slopes – as an older than average student
OLDIES WHO WANT TO take up skiing definitely need two legs in good working order, reasonable eyesight – in order to see people they are about to knock down, and endeavour to avoid them – and an exceptionally robust insurance policy, on both life and limb, fully operational in most European countries, to include repatriation by air ambulance within two days of having a serious accident.
The main problem with starting to ski after the age of 60 is that it’s a total no-no: the body has long since decided that it’s settling for reasonably short walks on the pier at Dún Laoghaire or in Marley Park, and it has little or no intention of being revved up to receive enormous boots on the end of its legs and have long sticks put into its hands, supposedly for balance but that will more than likely end up poking people’s eyes out while you upend them on Beginners’ Slope No 1 (which is the same standard as the slope for four-year-olds).
The word was that you had to have a few lessons on the dry slope, to familiarise yourself with the basics. What was not mentioned was that, even if you arrived early for your first lesson, it took you so long to get the ski boots on that you were at least 10 minutes late joining your class, and already some of them had mastered the means of stopping, the revered snowplough, in which your two feet point in towards each other, slowing you down.
As about 20 people were in the class, there was very little possibility of getting individual attention to catch up, so you did your best to pick up what had gone on before, making full use of the hedges for emergency stops at the end of some daring runs – where balance was a matter of pure luck and the fact that your daring run was only about 20m long was a big help.
Having eventually got the hang of stopping, it became easier just to move slowly in snowplough mode, but this was frowned on by the instructor, because the whole class was held up by one idiot who went down the slope at a minus speed.
This was followed by “the drag”, which helps you to reach the higher slopes. Basically, what happens is that you stand on the slope and wait for a long piece of steel attached to a cable to come by, whereon you grab it and stick the disc attached to the steel between your legs, at the same time ensuring that you’re well balanced and standing up straight, that your skis stay together and that you concentrate. What could be simpler?
What can in fact happen is that you don’t quite get the disc in far enough between your legs and, as you try to rectify this, the cable jerks. Your legs, which have been minding their own business, suddenly slide out at right angles to each other, you feel an excruciating pain in your groin, you let go of the cable and you end up in a heap on the ground, with someone shouting at you to get out of the way as the next piece of steel comes along, looking for a friendly pair of legs to take up the hill.
Getting off the ground at over 60 with skis on is the absolute limit – it’s hard enough to get up off the ground at over 60 without skis on. Kind people help you up, but the instructors are anxious that you master the art of regaining your stature yourself, so you try and try and try again. The secret, really, is never to fall, and time helps on this score.
The instructors have an agenda to keep: they are keen to impart as much knowledge to their clients – mostly young, fit, and eager – as is possible in the three or four lessons that they have. We over-60s would really require individual attention for 10 or 12 lessons to master the basics. As that isn’t possible, we’ll settle for getting as much as possible out of the three or four well-taught sessions that we do, no matter how backward we are.
Finally, we get on to the real snow in Andorra, on the nursery slopes, again as part of a class, though this time only 12 are in the group.
Nursery slopes are also where the babies learn how to ski, and they go whizzing down beside you in crocodiles of up to 15 babies, with minders in the front, back and middle of the snaking crocodile. Some of them are so young you’d swear they still have soothers in their mouths.
You ignore these little prodigies, however, because suddenly your snowplough is working, and after a few minor mishaps the cable drag works also, the four-man and six-man cable-cars are tried and tested without a problem, and you have even got the hang of the magic carpet, which transports large numbers of people up the lower slopes – and which, to your embarrassment, you caused to be stopped twice on your first day, as you lost your balance getting on and had to be untangled from under a mess of legs, arms and skis.
Once you reach the higher slopes you revel in the ultimate bliss of coming down a kilometre-long slope of untouched overnight snow at your own pace. The falls become fewer, the confidence grows and all you can wonder is why you didn’t take up skiing earlier in life. But, sure, maybe there’s a few years left in you yet.
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