My son returns to the hotel just after 3pm on his second afternoon in Méribel, showing off all the swing and swagger a nine-year-old can do while wearing a rented pair of ski boots. Amidst breathless screams of excitement and general glee, she fills me in on her day’s accomplishments so far as we trudge toward the equipment room.
“After lunch Denis and I went for a black run,” he says. “Three times, actually. So yes, I’m already on the run. Did you think this would happen? A black run? Just like that?”
The silent pause I experience as I try to find the right words betrays me. Before I had a chance to express my doubt, Hal began forcefully defending his supposed victory. “We did it! We did a black run! he half-yells, a wet glint of frustration – disbelief at my disbelief – forming on the surface of his eyes. “We made a dark run. Ask Denis! Ask her! Ask her!”
I don’t need to ask Denis. Because Denis is Denis Gacon, an instructor at the Méribel branch of the École du Ski Francais (ESF), who was given the task of teaching my son the basics. I only met him for a moment: yesterday morning and again today. We said little, apart from me explaining that, when it came to winter sports, Hal’s experience was the equivalent of a single morning of skating at a council-owned ice rink in east London.
But I took away a few things during our conversations: Denis, despite his classic Gallic gruffness, is an excellent teacher for beginners. And while there are many winters where he has left his professionalism in the Alps behind him, the chances of getting my kid to the top of the black circuit after two sessions on his main tracks are less than zero.
Hal remains resentful and insistent as I go down the difficult path of explaining that while his great achievement may not have been as great an achievement as he thought, it was still a great achievement; Skiing so smoothly, less than 48 hours before your first ascent on any mountain, is something to be quite proud of (as Denis explains later).
He won’t hear about it. “IT. It was. Black. Run,” he asserts, with complete youthful certainty. And as he charges upstairs, towards the body of the hotel, the little, grumpy part of me that I never liked whispers: “Well, that would be typical. And he would be better off than you, right?”
Because I’ve been here before; I was thinking of doing a black run two days into the learn-to-ski week in Méribel and neighboring Courchevel. Twenty years ago, I was the starter. And tears flowed from my eyes too. Although it’s probably just the wind.
I was a young writer then, in the mists of early night, in the heated world of men’s magazines. It was a different time, with questionable jokes, little attention to health and safety, and articles based on the grand snarl of taking a twenty-something ski virgin to the Alps to see if she could pull off a black run after a few hours of training.
Unsurprisingly it failed to do this in my case. Barely able to stand upright, I climbed to the top of one of Méribel’s toughest challenges: La Face (not to be confused with its namesake, La Face), the nearly vertical descent that hosted the women’s downhill races at the 1992 Winter Olympics in Bellevarde, Val d’Isère. in ) – and I made a fool of myself.
Terrified by the slope, I hesitated, hunched and whined, then sat down in the snow and refused to move, prompting shouts in French from those whose skill level gave them the right to be there. I eventually made it back to the Olympic gondola, retreated into the valley, and spent the next few hours in a bar. This has proven to be the best. I am not dead. And when the group caught up to me, a big laugh ensued. Many jokes were made while many beers were drunk, and ultimately my failure led to a much more entertaining story in which I somehow proved that I was the new Hermann Maier.
So you may ask why, twenty years later, I decided that such a disgraceful environment would be the perfect place for my son to learn his first lessons.
Because – despite this shame – I made Learn to ski in this spectacular part of the French Alps. Leaving the black runs to more accomplished colleagues, I spent the rest of the week working at a more moderate pace; More training, lots of lingering on the pleasant greens of Méribel and a few cautious walks below Courchevel after crossing the gondola ridge. nice wide tracks.
I have never been a perfect skier (I am not to this day), but by the end of the trip I had hesitantly finished the Courchevel red and headed home, aware that these Alpine twins were an ideal playground for beginners. . It wasn’t until 2023, and with Hal’s desire to learn, I knew where I could take him.
Certainly not to a fancy chalet with a fridge stocked with little more than vodka and schnapps, but somewhere more affordable. Hotel Le Mottaret is such a place that it is anchored to the mountainside in the village of the same name, with nursery slopes just beyond its door and a long, easy descent tapering down to Méribel (La Truite) below.
Part of a portfolio of properties run by winter sports specialists Ski France, it is a medium-sized three-star (77-room) hotel geared towards holidays with children; a swimming pool in the basement; A different type of pool, a table in the lobby. Hal forgets his anger when he gets a chance to hit a few balls; Even more so when we step into a hotel restaurant where the evening buffet caters for all tastes.
On the one hand, there are steaks rare enough to please even the most demanding French chef; on the other, plates filled with sausages, fries and chicken pieces designed to fill the stomachs of little ones. Breakfast is a similar feast: piles of pancakes and waffles – but also delicate deli slices. For four days I did not hear a single young voice in any language saying that they were still hungry.
After three days of retracing my footsteps on the slopes of twenty years ago and my son completing his lessons with Denis, Hal was able to ski with me (not a very difficult task, actually). While I’m still bewildered that I won’t accept his fugitive mastery with fatherly grace and wonder, he takes me in search of the location of this work. Inevitably it turns out that it is not La Face.
Rather, “La Piste Des Animaux” is a side route that takes a meandering path through woodland, off Méribel’s slightly green Blanchot piste. It’s proving to be a fascinating road, an Alpine Narnia. Each of its snowy folds is adorned with the statue of a creature from the forest or mountains; Some of these are made of (obviously) black plastic.
“To see!” Hal says, pointing to the wolf waiting on a lap. “Black Animal Run.”
I’m not pointing out the extra word he suddenly added to his story or correcting him on a broader misunderstanding. He gets so excited about being able to get through the crates with a reasonable amount of speed and control that whatever the truth is, it doesn’t matter that much.
Instead, we pass by this strange menagerie (golden eagle, mountain goat, fox) and return to soar four more times. And there is magic in this; Winter sunlight filters through the pine trees, their slightly frosted branches glowing gold. Life offers you a few experiences that, for all their wonder, can only happen once.
Even though your first ski slope with your child isn’t exactly a first word, a first step, a first Christmas gift from a legendary helpful Scandinavian, it’s still a special moment; you’ve changed his diaper, cleaned his scraped knees, and he’s now agile and alert; recently he was slipping and spinning in a place where he couldn’t really walk.
There is one last magical moment. Altiport de Méribel at the base of Blanchot offers 15-minute sightseeing flights that show the whole picture in extraordinary clarity. Courchevel is visible from the sky on the right. There is Méribel, following the gentle tilt of the wings and a turn to the left; The slopes come alive with Alpine ants in their bright clothes. There is also La Face; It’s still too much for my ski nerves, but maybe not for Hal’s at a later point. Maybe at some point in the near future we can solve this problem together.
Fundamentals
stay there
A week at Hotel Le Mottaret costs from £701 (half-board from £829; all-inclusive from £1,000) bed and breakfast with Ski France (020 3475 4756). Children (under the age of 18) can stay free of charge in the same hostel with their parents. Flights and transfers are not included.
skiing there
Ski lessons at ESF start from £219 per week. Six-day Les Trois Vallées cable car passes start from £258 per person for a family of four (children aged 5-17).
fly there
Jet2 and British Airways operate winter flights from the UK to Chambéry, with a one hour and 20 minute transfer from the resort. On-site sightseeing flights with L’Aéroclub de Meribel cost £60 per person.