Learning to Ski in Mayrhofen, Austria

I wish we were still on yesterday’s wide nursery slopes. Remembering the knee-high munchkins bawling their eyes out there, I wonder if such behaviour is acceptable in your twenties. On cue, Craig, our sexy-cute Australian instructor, whose brilliant teaching technique fills us with pride and inspiration, answers like a mind-reader. ‘It’s no steeper than the blue run you did yesterday on the nursery slopes. It just looks it, because it’s narrower.’ My nervous group of ten shuffles forward, poles crunching in the snow. A cocky teenager zig-zags past, frustrated, shouting to his mates, ‘Come on! I’m not getting caught behind this snake.’ That would be us then.

The natural-born skiers in the group spend lots of time waiting with Craig for the rest of us, who have thrown ourselves over on purpose, terrified of going too fast and being unable to stop. Instantly it’s regrettable, because getting up again is such a faff. It’s tough mustering the strength from your energy-zapped body, especially when all I really want to do is snuggle in the soft snow for a well-earned nap. Craig’s not having any of it, and his promise of a glass of glühwein is enough to tempt me on.

That evening, hunting for Tiroler Stuben, the best restaurant the small Tyrolean town has to offer, my friend Kate and I stroll along the film-set-perfect cobbled streets, overlooked by cosy, hazy-orange glows from restaurant windows.

Little of the skiable snow reaches the town, which lies only 630m above sea level, but that’s still no excuse for some passers-by (with Australian accents) to be in flip-flops and shorts, even in April. Luckily, the surrounding high-altitude peaks hold the snow longer than most Austrian resorts.

Continued...