By Eve Bell

Not sure I have seen my true colours more clearly than when I have two fibreglass planks strapped my feet and I am ploughing down a mountain.

I have never really been a sporty person, it is something that has come from my husband and my children. Especially on holidays. I am outnumbered in the ‘let’s just sit and read department’. So I join in. I never really wanted to be that mum that sits and watches the bags while all the fun takes place in the sea, the snow and the lakes.

Summers are spent in Cornwall where it is all about the boards – bodyboards, surfboards and paddleboards. The latter being my favourite – because it is still and peaceful and slow. I draw the line at surfing. Being bashed about by waves is not happening.

I tried skiing before the children were born, on small pistes and while I didn’t love it, I didn’t hate it. I loved the alpine air and as the children when they were old enough, we felt the mountains calling us.

We went last year to Italy and there was no snow. Just ice. And it was -19°C. It was no fun. I remember feeling sheer terror and wondered why on earth I was putting myself through it. Then I saw the kids loving it, with their fearlessness and I just tried my hardest to get on with it. Didn’t want them to see me scared.

We decided to try it again and go back to the place I first learnt in Obertauern, Austria. I am feeling really drawn to mountains and winter weather, I always loved beach holidays but I can feel a shift in me. When we saw there had been loads of snow, the most amount in the Alps for years, we were all beyond excited.

Fast forward to getting on that slope. Yep. Utter fear. Followed by anger. Followed by all the swear words. I can actually ski but the fear just takes control. Which is the worse thing that can happen. This is where my true colours shine out of me like a disco ball. I can see all of our true colours.

The girl just flies down the mountain, she sees no danger, only fun. And doesn’t care what the people around her think or do, only what she is doing. Because she is doing it anyway. Then stops when she wants to stop because she wants to do the next thing. Short attention span. Too much to do, so little time. Exactly what she is like in her non-hurtling down the mountain life.

The boy is a bit more careful on the slopes but that’s because he wants to be the best. He strives to master his turning and tries and tries and tries again. He is also keeping an eye on me and making sure I am ok because he is so thoughtful. Always thinking outside of himself. He can afford to be whizzing down and looking around for me because he is a natural at it. Like everything he does comes naturally to him.

So after my skiing therapy, it seems I have big issues with feeling out of control. Going fast down a mountain with planks on your feet does that to you. Throw in the what seem like Olympic level skiers whizzing past you at 100mph and my control might as well be on Mars. Seems I am not so good at being so out of reach of it.

One of my other clear traits is that I don’t like being shit at things. I am not very good at not knowing how to do stuff. Maths lessons where I just didn’t get it, came to mind when I was in tears (and in a heap) on the slope. I get frustrated easily. And I am not very good at being taught.

I am also not good at giving up. So I stuck with it. Had some lessons. Which just involved doing tours of big slopes. Not learning skills on the nursery slopes like I had imagined. My husband tells me it is because it looks from the outside that I can ski confidently, the fear is not showing on the outside. So there is another trait. Keeping things to myself and closing myself off.

Next day came a tour of the slopes with the family. I was faced with a serious lift. Which meant that at the top was a serious slope. The skis came off and I walked down. I didn’t cry or strop. Progress. We ended up having loads of fun in the really deep snow instead until my nerve returned.

The best thing that came from this week of therapy? Showing my kids that you face your fears full on. They have said that whenever they have anything in front of them that scares them, they are going to remember me trying hard in the mountains. And if it doesn’t work out, they know there are options. They can just take their skis off.

And that is exactly what I did when I left my skis in the ski room for a day. I took the other options and read, swam and wrote this blog. In one of the most beautiful settings, my eyes have ever seen.

I left the slopes with confidence and on the last day, it all came together. I skied with confidence and loved it. Mostly helped that the pistes were quiet. But I did it, I faced my fears. Ready to go again next year.

Read this post if you would like to know about my experience of skiing with kids.