Seconds out, round 4: our two editorial titans of the slopes pit their
opinions against each other again on the latest big issue - do you take the
first lift, or the last? Mark Frary is the afternoon man while Sean Newsom
is able to kick himself out of bed... Let us know your preference on the
comment form
Sean Newsom, wintersports editor of The Sunday Times:
Getting up at 7am in the Alps hurts like hell. My body’s aching from the day
before, my head is fuzzy from the red wine at dinner, and my body clock is
still on UK time. “IT’S ONLY SIX O’CLOCK YOU MORON” screams the little voice
inside as the alarm goes off. And I agree with it whole-heartedly.
And yet, these days, I always kick myself out of bed.
Why? Because if it’s skiing or boarding you’re after, rather than drinking,
eating and dancing, the first two hours of the skiing day are all that
counts. It’s then that the pistes are freshly groomed. It’s then that the
powder (if there is any) is untracked. The rest of the resort is still
shaking itself awake, and soaking up caffeine like a sponge: and that gives
me, and those like me, a crucial half-hour head start.
Nowhere does this matter more than in the mega-resorts of France –the Three
Valleys, Espace Killy, and Paradiski. They contain some of the best skiing
on the planet, but boy, everybody knows it. These days, in all but the
quietest weeks, the pistes are packed.
Take Combe Saulire in Courchevel, for example. This is the main red-rated
piste at the top of the resort, and it’s a beauty – wide, fast, and
beautifully groomed, it also faces north, so the snow is almost always in
good condition. Problem is, by 9.30am, half of Europe seems to be skiing it.
It’s still a great run – but absolutely nothing compared to what it’s like
when it’s empty. The difference between having it to yourself, and playing
people-slalom, is about thirty minutes.
Believe me, it’s worth missing breakfast to be able to enjoy it in its
pristine state.
Mark Frary, wintersports editor of The Times:
Despite what it may seem from our previous three head-to-heads, I do not
disagree with everything Sean says. I love those early morning untracked
slopes and uncrowded pistes too and have had my fair share of groggy
headedness while waiting for the first lift. Whooshing down the
neatly-traced lines of a groomed on-piste run in the early morning sun is
right up there among the best experiences in my book too.
Yet by focusing too much on the first lift of the day you risk missing one of
skiing’s other great pleasures – the last lift of the day. My skiing friends
and I have even taken to calling it the golden chairlift (and even la
telesiège d’or in French resorts). What I’m not talking about is coming down
the mountain with half a million other people, risking life and limb as
everyone congregates in a mass of jellified limbs on the home-run slopes.
No, I’m talking about really being the last man standing – taking the last
lift up the mountain just before the lift closes. OK, so it’s probably the
second last man standing, since the pisteur checking the slopes at the end
of the day will be the only one to come across your crumpled body in the
event of an accident.
I love that shiver you get when you realise that unless you ski just fast
enough you might not make the very last connecting lift back to your resort.
I love the solitude of the slopes, even though the snow is well and truly
tracked by this time. I love that eerie twilight glow of the snow against
the darkening sky. I love the sensation that you have well and truly earned
your après-ski.
Got an issue you want our snow bosses to debate? Email us at yoursay@timesonline.co.uk
