There’s more to Méribel than skiing

There comes a time when we have to accept that the “snow” we’ve been calling “a bit wet” for hours is actually just rain and when that time comes we look to higher ground in search of the white fluffy stuff we have travelled to the French Alps to see and to ski in.

So we slosh through thick slush towards the high-tech, high-speed lifts which make Méribel such an easy-ski destination. There can be few resorts in Europe so well served by a 21st century infrastructure and millions of euro are spent here each year on upgrades and it really shows.

Just minutes later we are nearly 3,000 metres above sea level at one of the crossing points to Courchevel, the snow place like home for European royalty. Up here the white stuff is falling thick and fast which makes the skiing better but the visibility poorer.

It was a different story when we were on this spot 24 hours ago. Back then the sun was shining and our group had to strip to their T-shirts ahead of lunch in the appropriately named Le Panoramic, a place with stunning views and eye-watering prices. There wasn’t much change out of €50 for a burger and a beer. The prices did not deter skiers, however, and the place was wedged. The burger was gorgeous, mind you.

But that was 24 hours ago. Today the beautiful people – in their ridiculously coloured jump suits – are nowhere to be seen. The views are gone and thick clouds and heavy snow have reduced visibility to almost nothing. I start wishing I’d invested in a pair of ski goggles as my sunglasses are next to useless in such conditions.

This is the moment our instructor points to a nearby rocky outcrop and says, in heavily accented English: “That is where Schumacher had his accident.” This sentence stops us in our tracks. I knew the former Formula One driver had sustained catastrophic head injuries while skiing off piste in Méribel but I had imagined the accident had happened at high speed on the blackest of black slopes. It hadn’t.

The rock our instructor is pointing at is on a gentle slope that is at its very steepest green and the outcrop is just two meters off the piste. “It was just one of those things – a complete freak event,” he says. I look kind of terrified at the thought and he realises I have no goggles. He lends me his and we ski away from the spot more aware of our fragility than before – well, I am, at any rate.

But I have no time to dwell on it. The slopes and the swirling snow do not allow for such introspection. The run is long and exhilarating and the red and green slopes are delightfully quiet. Skiing doesn’t get much more perfect than this and when we reach the end of the run more than 30 minutes later the sombreness has been replaced by childlike giddiness.

“Again. Again!” I can hear my inner-child shrieking. It’s all I can do to stop my outer-adult doing likewise. We go again. And the descent is as brilliant the second time. And the third time.

This is only my third time skiing but it is my first time loving it. My teacher, from the official French Ski School is just brilliant – and not just because he gave me his goggles when I really needed them. He is calm and patient and breaks things down in a way that even a poor skier like me was able to grasp. Some instructors I have had in the past have been hideously technical and others horrendously impatient – unsurprisingly, perhaps, because until now I have skied like a donkey at a roller disco – but I am lucky this time and as a result I learn more.

The skiing in Méribel is undeniably great – and off peak is as attractive as high season thanks to the massive network of runs at higher altitudes – but the skiing is not the be all and end all. The après ski in this small section of the French Alps is not too shabby either although the over-privileged oaf factor can be high depending on when you go. Méribel is a wonderfully self-contained resort and bars with stunning views of Mont Blanc are not hard to find but it is also within skiing distance of Courchevel and Val Thorens where European royalty, Russian oligarchs – and the cast of Made In Chelsea – come and play on the more than 600km of runs on offer.

I am neither Russian nor royalty and I don’t want to Chelsea but I am at least spared much of the grief commoners commonly encounter on skiing trips because I am with an operator which specialises in taking much of the hassle out of snow trips.

Les Trois Vallées provides some of the best skiing in the world – and some of the most knowledgeable instructors – but what makes this trip particularly special is not the snow but the men and women of Highlife, the highly regarded tour operator which offers high-end trips to high places.

The fact that Highlife kept going throughout the darkest days of the recession when ski holidays fell right off the agenda for most of us, stands as testament to the quality of the packages it continues to offer. This is not the tour operator to chose if you are looking for a cheap-as- chips ski holiday but it is certainly up there with the best of them which is why they keep drawing people in. And if you juggle dates and times it can work out costing a lot less than you might imagine.

To get to Méribel, we took Geneva bound pre-dawn flight with Aer Lingus towards the end of March. The early start was hard but it meant we were on the slopes finding our ski legs that afternoon.

Highlife arranged transfers, first to the chalet and then to the slopes – it has a great bespoke taxi service for its guests. Before we could dip a toe in the already bubbling hot tub we were being fitted out with our kit and given our ski-passes. A couple of hours’ skiing on the first afternoon takes the edge off our rustiness and allows the group to hit the ground skiing the following morning.

The food in the restaurants dotted around the slopes is typically French and all the better for it but the food in the chalet was just as outstanding. Highlife employ qualified chefs and ours, a young snowboarder from Spiddal, was wonderful.

There was an open fire, the hot tub, all the wine and beer you could drink (the Highlife holidays are all-inclusive) and – worryingly – a guitar for the sing songs. With all that going on it was hard to work up much enthusiasm to leave the chalet once dinner was done. And by hard, I mean impossible. We dabbled in the après ski – the best of which was spent in a bar with an Irish band called Bring your Sisters – but most of the time was spent eating, skiing or snoozing on the chalet couch or in the hot tub. Lazy for sure but when you’re skiing you’re allowed to take advantage of your downtime.