HEMSEDAL

Hemsedal is a valley in the Norwegian mountains, roughly halfway between Oslo and Bergen, and where I have just spent a fantastic week's skiing holiday. Unlike the Alps, where the peaks rise up sharply, the mountains in Norway are rounder, more like the middle of a cottage loaf. That makes it much easier to have green (easy) runs at the top, something which is much appreciated by people like me, who are not very good. Other good things were the wide and well-maintained pistes, the putting of moguls and jumps in special areas (not frequented by me), and the almost complete absence of ice (there has been a lot of snow this winter). That all gave me the courage and confidence to concentrate on improving my technique, and I feel I made substantial progress. OK, it was only from very crap to crap; but I was definitely going downhill much faster than last time. And I didn't have any major crashes.

With temperatures around minus 3 to 5 degrees during the day, and sunshine for much of the time, it was perfect skiing weather. The compulsory wearing of helmets was something new, and not always comfortable, since mine made my hair itch. But I loved the night skiing under lights. Norwegian efficiency meant that the main pistes were re-prepared between 15.30 and 18.00. Hurtling down a newly prepared piste under lights after dinner was a great experience.

The whole family was there, though not all of us had to work. My elder son had been roped in as an ad hoc ski instructor for the school. Clad in what looked like white pyjamas, borrowed from his fashion-conscious cousin, he was soon licking 17-year olds into shape, and filming them on the jumps.

On the last day, I went cross-country skiing for the first time with my younger son, who had tried it once before. It was fun, though also one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life. Basically, if you don't work, you don't move; and "work" in this instance means the whole of your body. Although it was minus 10 degrees down in the valley, and I had removed my inner jumper before we started, I was still sweating heavily within ten minutes, and continued that way for the rest of the day. We did about 15km in the course of 4 hours, a distance which the professionals would cover in about 45 minutes. At the end, I was aching everywhere.

Still, that is what skiing holidays are for. Lots of exercise, lots of alcohol in the evenings in our super-efficient wooden hut, and the whole thing eased by good-looking Norwegians with their winning smiles. Hej du!

Walter Blotscher