by Marama Carmichael

Created on: January 12, 2009   Last Updated: February 09, 2011

Just about as soon as I could walk my parents strapped on a pair of skis and pushed me down a hill. I'm glad they did. There are so many benefits of learning to ski as a child. For a start, walking around with a wet bottom from sitting in all that snow is much less embarrassing when you're four than when you're forty. Also crying because you're cold, wet, tired and in pain is also more readily forgiven for the under fives. Yes, learning to ski is difficult for everyone, both children and adults, but at least if you learn when you're a child you get the pain over and done with and instead you can get out there and enjoy the fun of skiing.

My father believed that the family who played together, stayed together. So as a child the entire family was loaded into the car. And by loaded, I mean LOADED. Car, roof box, and trailer all crammed full of skis and boards, clothes, and boots. Then we would drive over to the Alps. On one trip the roof box flew open driving down the motorway, ski pants, hats and gloves flew all over the place. While we were instructed to wait in the car, my parents raced around picking everything up, and somehow came back with most of our ski clothes, but also with a set of fishing rods that had flown off someone else's roof. We dropped them off at the local police station, and raced on to get our overnight ferry. A few months later we received a reward from the fishing rod owners - apparently we'd saved their holiday.

Considering my father's philosophy - the family who plays together, stays together. I can't believe how many times he tried to lose us on those ski trips. The amount of times we heard things like 'We'll just take a shortcut through these trees. The lift is over here.', or the never forgotten 'The run says it's closed, but I'm sure it's fine'. Yes, we didn't just play, we played hard. First on the slopes in the morning and last off at night. We skied the mountain, making sure that we paid particular attention to the black (the most diffcult) runs. And of course those off piste shortcuts, that ensured we always had some excitement. Sliding down a muddy 85 degree slope on your bottom with your skis slung over your shoulder always provides nice variety.

And then there was the time that we all got lost. That is lost from each other. I had followed my father into the woods, but had failed to realise that he'd done a little loop and returned to the main run. I carried on, and on, and on. I soon became sure he wasn't in front of me, but

• 1
• 2
• Next Page >>