Some 70,000 Irish a year are flying off to the Alps for a week of skiing every year. Davin O'Dwyertakes the chairlift to the French resort of Méribel to see what the fuss is about
There are a number of ways you can tell that Ireland has become seriously affluent in the past dozen years. There are the cranes dotting our cities' skylines. There's the range of exotic accents on our streets. There's the fact that the only old cars on our roads are lovingly maintained vintage motors rather than rusting jalopies. But one of the most subtle, telling changes is the newfound national obsession with flying off to the Alps for a week of skiing every year. Rare is the taxi driver who doesn't have a favourite resort in Austria or Italy. Significant numbers of third-level students routinely pop off for a springtime session on the slopes.
What better way to announce our bulging wallets. Skiing has gone from being the preserve of a wealthy elite to the winter equivalent of a sun holiday in little more than the time it takes to descend a snowy slope - industry estimates put the number of Irish skiers at 70,000 annually and growing. Our temperate climate and modest mountains offer neither the snow cover nor the altitude required for skiing, so where does the widespread Irish predilection for whizzing down pistes at dangerous speeds come from? Well, as I quickly discovered on my first ski holiday, it comes from the unique thrill of whizzing down pistes at dangerous speeds.
Going for a few days on the slopes with Highlife, a "boutique" Irish ski company that has chalets in three of France's finest resorts (Morzine, Val d'Isère, and the one I visited, Méribel), is a rather luxurious first exposure to the skiing lifestyle. While the modern Irish skier can be spotted in large numbers in resorts such as Livigno in Italy and Andorra, Highlife and its high-end rivals offer charming chalet accommodation in the best French resorts, complete with chef, host, hot tub and all the assistance one could possibly ask for. For the clueless newbie, there is no better way to get your first experience of the slopes.
Your first time in skis is a steep learning curve. You feel like a newborn deer, wobbling and clumsy as you adjust to the lengthy new additions to your feet. The baby slopes, where experienced French Ski School (ESF) guides help you get your mountain legs, appear at first to be impossibly steep and perilous. But as you become more assured, the preternatural sensation of control, whereby the very slightest shift in weight or body angle results in immediate changes in speed and direction, becomes addictive. Feeling barely in control of your body, especially in an environment that you really don't want to be losing control in, is daunting at first. But it is this radical adjustment in your relationship with movement, freed as you are from the normal physics of walking, that proves so intoxicating. Soon, the deliberate lifting of feet to move seems positively old-fashioned, and gliding becomes the norm.
It is not just the skiing that appeals, of course. The air bites at your lungs, expelling the last remnants of car exhaust and air pollution. Then there's the alien landscape, ragged-topped and glaring white, while from Méribel village, you can just make out normality down in the valley floor, where people walk rather than glide, drive rather than hop on ski chairs. Méribel is in the centre of what is known as the Three Valleys, with Courchevel to the west and Les Menuires and Val Thorens to the east, together forming one of the largest unified ski areas in the world, with ski trails stretching for 600km. At the top of Salire, one of the tallest peaks, the small-town France we left at the foothills of the Alps is invisible, a memory. We have reached a different world, where the air sounds different and the clouds merge with the mountaintops. For the experienced skiers among us, it's an opportunity for some untrammelled downhill skiing. For the neophytes, it's a breathtaking view, and a race to get the last lift back down - we might be learning to love the buzz of skiing, but we're also suitably wary of tackling slopes that would test our new skills past their limit and into a tree trunk.
Méribel is traditionally quite a British resort - it was founded in 1938 by a Scottish colonel called Peter Lindsay. He bought up large areas of the valley above the village of Méribel and instigated strict planning guidelines in keeping with the traditional buildings in the valley. To this day, all new developments must adhere to the guidelines, helping the area maintain a quaint uniformity.
The British connection helps attract plenty of seasonaires, mostly affluent public school types who spend months in the area, some working, others skiing or snowboarding every day. By the end of the season, the lower half of the seasonaire's face is like varnished teak, while the top half, protected by a ski mask, remains an unvarnished white. The social life, too, demonstrates a divide between the people who are there for the season, with their established routines, and the interlopers there for a week, straining to get the most out of their days and their nights.
The physical demands of skiing, and the cold, bracing air is either the best thing you can do with a hangover or the worst, depending on your temperament and how much you actually drank. But the reason après-ski is so essential a part of the ski holiday experience surely has something to do with the enduring buzz from a day on the slopes. Retiring to bed once the sun sets is rarely the desired option.
Descending finally from the snow and the crisp air and back to normality, with its roads and bare soil and non-matching buildings, can feel like being abruptly awoken from a pleasant dream. There will be a residual soreness from the week's exertions, and a heavy-footedness that comes from not being able to coast along at will. Ultimately, though, just like that pleasant dream, there will be a nagging need to get back to the slopes again, and again, and again.
HIGHLIFE:
What your money buys
It might cater to the high end of the market, but Highlife, with its bespoke ski chalet holidays, delivers a first-class service. Staff meet all guests at the airport, get their ski equipment and ski passes and bring them to their chalet. There, guests enjoy the attention of their own chef and host. It's a far cry from many people's first experience of skiing, but the constant attention to detail makes it an ideal way to get the most out of your week - with the Highlife team looking after you, there is plenty of time to enjoy yourself. Highlife's holidays range from €940 to €1,590 per person for a catered week, depending on the date, chalet and resort. This price includes direct scheduled Aer Lingus flights from Dublin, private transfers to the chalet accommodation, food and wine, and extensive support throughout the week. Call 01-6771100 or see www.highlife.ie for details.
CHARITY ON SNOW:
Ski 2 Freedom
While everybody seems to be catching the skiing bug these days, the Ski 2 Freedom foundation aims to raise awareness about skiing facilities for disabled and special-needs skiers. Founded by Catherine Cosby, whose daughter has a rare neurological disorder, the non-profit charity will serve as the most comprehensive information resource on winter sport activities and locations for skiers with disabilities and will encourage ski resorts to develop and promote their facilities for such skiers. Whether for rehabilitation, leisure or as a one-off experience, Ski 2 Freedom hopes to help as many people as possible to experience the thrill of skiing. See www.ski2freedom.com for details.