Beginner's luck in quiet Vaujany, France's secret ski village

By KATE O'GRADY

Quaint: Vaujany is first a village and second a ski resort


As we neared the French Alps with their groomed pistes, cable cars and snowy peaks, I was terrified. Not because I hate skiing.

On the contrary, I have loved it since the age of seven and consider myself almost competent.

No, my fear was purely on account of my boyfriend, Charlie, a cautious fellow at the best of times, for whom this was a first experience.

There was even a wager at his office as to which limb he would break first. I began to wonder whether our relationship could handle the fallout from any kind of alpine catastrophe.

But I'd not counted on Vaujany working its magic, with more than a little help from specialist operator Ski Peak.

Vaujany is a village before it is a resort - but one that's linked seamlessly to Alpe d'Huez, a vast and varied ski playground. For the beginner, it's perfect.

We were staying at Hotel Rissou, a warm, welcoming place with lashings of rustic charm and a legendary kitchen. Homely trinkets hung from walls and beams and from the moment of our arrival the staff, older than the typical gap - year workers , offered impeccable service, all without the hint of a hangover.

By the time we reached our room our fears had already begun to melt away. Even the jagged mountains, looming beyond our balcony, prompted interest rather than terror.

And Ski Peak had yet to play its trump card: chef MarcusCull. Nothing had prepared us for the seven-course banquet that appeared every evening. From delicately-melting lamb to intoxicating desserts, this was gastronomic genius that would have Mr Ramsay reaching for something stronger than the F-word.

Charlie, a keen foodie, was in heaven. Smug as I was that I had sold skiing to Charlie through his stomach, I was only too aware that ESF, the French ski school, would not be able to use this tactic in tomorrow's lesson.


Something for everyone: There is superb skiing for both beginners and experts, particularly as Vaujany links up with the vast Alp d'Huez ski area


That next morning, tummies full of breakfast buffet, sausage and eggs(hats off again to Marcus), we headed to the cable car station, just five minutes' walk from the hotel and next to the ski school.

Outside ESF HQ, instructors cut through the rabble of pint-sized skiers rounding up their classes, Charlie included. It was like leaving a child for his first day at school.

'Have fun,' I shouted. 'I will,' he replied, looking like a man awaiting the gallows.

By the time I reached the top of the mountain, I'd forgotten about my boyfriend. I was distracted by the crunchy morning snow, alpine air whipping past my face and miles of ski-ready slopes before me.

Alpe d'Huez is one of the European ski heavyweights. It boasts both the thigh-burning Champagne Run and the ten-mile Sarenne, reportedly the world's longest black, as well as many miles of more accessible pistes.

As if to reward your efforts, the varied slopes are lined with mouthwatering restaurants (the Altiport is highly recommended) and picturesque hamlets that will delight the scenic skier. The area has a proud history.

In the Thirties it was home to the first button l i ft, the ' poma' , brainchild of Jean Pomagalski - a name Charlie would spend the first day cursing as he found himself repeatedly flung onto the nursery slope.

Apart from the button lift, Vaujany's nursery slope is learner friendly. Tucked away in a bowl of flattering blue runs and served by its own bubble lift, it avoids becoming the freeway for traffic back to the lifts that other nursery slopes so often do.



Pretty calm: The village is a beautiful enclave in the mountains


I skied over there to meet Charlie, dreading the postmortem of his first morning. To my surprise, he was grinning broadly, desperate to show off his snow plough turn.
beginner comrades, however, showed less enthusiasm. Within hours they had all given up. Left alone in the class, Charlie was now benefiting from one-to-one tuition.

With the skiing worry off our minds the week turned into a wonderful rotation of superb skiing and extreme dinners. We over-indulged in the latter, on account of the hours being dedicated to the former.

The groaning elastic on my salopettes at the end of the week suggested that I hadn't perfected this equation.

Squeezed between the chocolate-box chalets of Vaujany is a handful of bars, an iceskating rink, leisure complex and even a mobile spa.

But thanks to the mayor's tight reins on development and the modern demand for ski-in ski-out accommodation, Vaujany has resisted the invasion of mass tourism and high-rise developments that has swept across much of the Alps.

Life is still dictated by the rural community and their belief in the simple pleasures of life. People come here to ski well, eat superbly and relax effortlessly.

By day three Charlie was stable enough to leave the nursery slope.
Skiing together was another test, but we passed with flying colours. He'd caught the skiing bug, and even an end-of-week snowstorm couldn't deter this winter sports convert.

Watching him snake down his final run with growing confidence, against the backdrop of a lowering sun, I adapted Rex Harrison's famous lines from My Fair Lady: 'By George, he's got it!'


Travel Facts
Ski Peak offers a week stay at Hotel Rissou, including flights, transfers, half-board accommodation from £649pp (01428 608070, www.skipeak.net) ESF has six days' morning or afternoon ski lessons from £90pp (0033 476 807 180, www.esf-vaujany.com)

source: dailymail