As the boy and I drift quietly up the Massif de Beauregard in our swinging gondola, all I can focus on is my pounding heart. It’s a bright and warm day, the others in our ‘telecabine’ are smiling and I should be excited; it’s the first time I’ve been skiing in six years. Having grown up in Canada, skiing was a normal part of my life, whether that was cross country over the tracts of land my family owned, or downhill at the local mountain less than 60 miles from my front door. But since departing the lands of my childhood for European shores, skiing has been swept by the wayside, and all I can think is am I still going to be able to do this?
The boy and I had arrived the night before at the quaint Swiss-influenced resort of La Clusaz, located inside the French border just 32km from the train station at Annecy, or an hour’s drive from Geneva. The resort is not as overwhelming as the more popular Chamonix and Méribel and feels very ‘lived-in’, with locals going about their daily shopping at the boulangerie and drinking in the cosy pubs. The vast majority of visitors to La Clusaz (around 80%) are French and that small French town feeling persists throughout the resort’s streets, with trails of sparkling lights draped around lampposts and fountains the likes of which I’ve seen throughout many trips to villages in Normandy. But while the resort feels homely in its outlay, it offers an array of opportunities for skiers. At an altitude of up to 2,600 metres, it boasts five mountains that include 84 ski runs over 132km.
The resort is not only a winter destination; this year, from the 14-16 June, it will host a major mountain biking tournament called Roc des Alpes, to aid in its goal of increasing the numbers of visitors – especially those from areas outside of France – that it receives in the summertime. There are also plenty of hiking trails, the option to partake in paragliding and tasty opportunities for foodies; the region is rich in cheese and wine output which can be sampled at the 63 restaurants in the area.
Our hotel, the pristine five-star Au Coeur du Village, was at the base of the slopes, providing a short route from the ski rental shop, Ski 2000, to the gondola. I’d been building up the fear for weeks leading up to our departure to La Clusaz, and it didn’t help when the man at the ski shop told me that getting back onto skis was “just like riding a bicycle.” The last time I rode a bicycle, I fell off of it…
We emerged at the top of the mountain and I carried my skis farther than most, in hopes of delaying the eventual moment when I’d have to put them on and prove I could still move suavely on two wooden boards. But then, as I soon discovered, the best way to master your fear is to teach others the skill you think you’ve lost. As soon as I started instructing the boy – to great success, I might add – I realised just how much I knew. By the day’s end, I’d managed to convince him to go down two proper ski hills: the slightly icy and tricky Guy Périllat slope, named after the French alpine ski racer from the area, and the easier connecting run, Acces massif de l’Etoile and L’Envers slope, both of which offered wide, quiet skiing areas that were perfect for beginners and more advanced skiers alike.
As we returned our skis on the first day, every muscle in our bodies ached but it felt like we’d both achieved something monumental. Our reward? To start, there was the hour spent relaxing in the wood-panelled spa at the hotel (complete with heated pool, sauna and hammam). We added to this a dinner at the hotel’s restaurant, Cinq, filled with five-star treats including a thick slab of foie gras with dried fruits and duck meat, and a dense piece of pollock with an innovative grapefruit salsa and cucumber salad, and a fantastic bottle of red Bordeaux. And finally, we retired to our spacious, wood-floored, fur rug covered room, to enjoy chocolates left on our pillow.
When finally we retired for the night, it was with the realisation that conquering one’s fears can be a lot easier to do in the flesh than in the head, and the desire was already mounting to return next year to the quaint village of La Clusaz. The long-returning French guests truly know where the best is and I’m happy to share their secret.
