Individual Story...

Hi everyone and welcome to another post from your favourite blogging Méribel ski instructor, with a slightly different twist on my usual articles. Over the summer I came across a few really interesting programmes on BBC iPlayer about several athletes; Linford Christie, Colin Jackson, Daley Thompson plus others. These were high profile elite athletes in their day, and I have fond memories of watching them on the telly. The theme of these programmes was a reflection on their careers, narrated by various commentators and the athletes themselves in recent times. I was fascinated, and really enjoyed hearing more about their lives.

I then wondered if I could do the same thing on this blog page with my own skiing background as a holidaymaker, leading into a career of ski teaching in the 3 Valleys. But I'm not one to blow my own trumpet, so wasn't sure if I should do this. Having said that, with moving house in the UK recently, I came across a few old photos which then sowed the seed again. So here goes, a blog post all about, ermm....... me!?!

Everyone has their own story, including all of us ski instructors. So here goes. I grew up in a place called Lancing in West Sussex, not far from Brighton. I remember as a kid being fascinated watching 'Ski Sunday' on the telly. It's like a British institution isn't it? But I'm talking about watching it in black and white, with David Vine presenting the programme. Remember that? I've just googled and seen that he was the presenter between 1978-1996! Anyway, the sport looked so glamorous, as did the scenery. I was hooked early in life and wanted to give it a go one day. I wasn't able to go on any ski trips from school, but as soon as I was eighteen years old I signed up for my first ski holiday.

I took several lessons at a plastic dry slope near Tunbridge Wells, before heading out to Bulgaria. I loved it, and signed up again the following winter. In fact, the second year I went twice, the third year three times, and that trend continued. Then for a few years I kept my annual holiday entitlement only for skiing. The addiction had started and fully cemented. It was an exciting period in my life visiting several countries, and it opened my eyes to a whole new world outside of Sussex. I visited Austria, Italy, Switzerland, Bulgaria, France and the United States of America. I was, and still am, very grateful to have skied in these countries.

For the first few winters I continued to have group ski lessons in order to improve my skiing. And when that fizzled out, I enjoyed the freedom of skiing with friends. But deep down I knew that I could still improve much further. I often saw way better skiers than me on the mountain, especially on poor quality snow, and was curious as to how on earth they could ski so well. I soon decided to book myself at least one private lesson for each week on holiday. Sometimes this was shared with friends, but quite often these lessons were just by myself. I remember being with instructors feeling so motivated with how well it was possible to ski. I absolutely loved it and still remember some of them to this day. And I could see that my standard was improving all the time, which acted as further motivation.

But you see the thing was, even though I knew I was fortunate, having five or six weeks of skiing still wasn't enough! What an extraordinary thing to feel. At the time I had a good career working for a company called Andersen Consulting, now known as Accenture. I had a great job, but something wasn't quite right on the career ladder, and I was becoming a little disillusioned with it all. To cut a long story short, I was made aware that some people leave the corporate world and chase their dreams. This was suggested to me, and I'll be honest with you, I found it impossible to get this thought out of my head. Could I really give up my decent career to try to qualify as a ski instructor? I remember phoning up my ski instructor in Val d'Isere and asking him his thoughts. He said to me that it wasn't entirely impossible, but it would be tough, very tough indeed, to get the required qualifications (including the speed test). I thought long and hard about it. And it was such a big decision to make.

But of course, a decision had to be made. Imagine if I had never given it a go, would I ever have regretted this? I remember being really nervous telling my parents about my decision. They were solid working class people. Dad was a carpenter all of his life, and Mum started in a typing pool and worked her way up to being a Personal Assistant to an HR manager. There I was telling them I was going to give up my decent job, and chase the skiing dream. It was tough, and to this day I don't know what they thought of it then. By the way, I'm also certainly grateful for the corporate life that I had. It was an interesting period in my life, and I'm glad that I can relate to others who have this.

All guns blazing then for my first ski season, with loads of training and a few of the first ski instructor exams. I started this process with BASI, which stands for the British Association of Snowsport Instructors. Without getting into detail, it's a long process, with a huge amount of hard work to get to the required level. There are four levels of qualification, and of course the highest level is by far the hardest. One of the many exams is called the European Speed Test. This is a giant slalom event, where candidates have to complete a course within a certain time (set by a coefficient) of the ex-pro racers' time. The standard is extremely high, and I found it very difficult indeed. Remember I didn't even begin skiing until I was eighteen years old, and had no background of ski racing whatsoever.

Extreme action was needed to give this my best shot. For many consequtive winters I booked on various race camps, often starting in late October going through until early December when the next ski season started. These camps were held on glaciers, and were tough. Even with all of this, I still couldn't pass this damn exam. In order to fund more training, I sold my house in Sussex, which enabled me to have two ski seasons down in New Zealand.

My two seasons there - remember our summers in the Northern Hemisphere are their winters - were only ski race training. No working, no teaching, no earning, just race training. My house sale funded this process. Looking back on this now, it was an extraordinary thing to do, and really quite a gamble with absolutely no guarantee of success!?! But it was a question of being in so deep by then with the investment, it felt like there was no turning back.

However, in early December 2003, I passed the European Speed Test with 0.7 seconds to spare in Alpe d'Huez. Utter, utter relief. To give you an idea of how difficult this exam was, on the day I passed there were only about four of us who got through out of around ninety five candidates.

The Speed Test exam is often a hot topic with many people, not only with those trying to pass it, but also some holidaymakers have an opinion on this. I often hear that being able to ski down a giant slalom race course at a rapid rate doesn't necessarily make someone a good ski instructor. And I always confirm that this is the case of course. However this exam is just one of many that has to be passed to get fully qualified. The other exams look at other things, including teaching skills.

Once the Speed Test had been ticked off, this meant that I was able to have a career ski teaching in France as long as I was able to complete and pass the other exams. At this point I left my previous ski school where I had taught for three seasons in Courchevel La Tania, and joined the ESF ski school in Méribel. In those days there were a small collection of British ski instructors within the Méribel ESF, around ten or twelve. Now there are only about six of us, out of nearly four hundred instructors.

It still took a few more years to finish the final instructor exams. In fact it took nine years from start to finish, that's nine full European ski seasons, plus the two down in New Zealand, eleven in total!?! Apparently the average is seven years, but hey ho, I got there in the end. Tom my instructor in Val d'Isere all those years ago, was spot on when he advised me on the telephone. It wasn't going to be impossible to qualify, but boy oh boy it was tough, really tough indeed.

One nice thing, I guess, is that any doubts my parents had when I left the corporate world to chase the skiing dream were now gone. There was success, and thankfully Mum would've been aware of this before her dementia diagnosis.

It's funny you know, whilst writing this blog post, I've actually gone through quite a few emotions. Trauma is too harsh a word, but trying to qualify was very much an ordeal. It's easy to forget how many sacrifices had to be made. For someone (me) who is pretty risk averse, leaving a quality job and selling a house to fund something with no guarantee of success, was quite a gamble. And I know many people who started the process, but for whatever reason, never managed to make it through to the end and qualify. This isn't trumpet-blowing on my part, again I'm just trying to highlight how tough it is to qualify. There are some very very good skiers out there, who would be excellent ski teachers, who couldn't quite get there. A shame.

I think the final thing for me to say is that I'm extremely proud of what I did, and I must make sure that I continue to appreciate this lifestyle. I've met some incredible people over the years, both colleagues and so many clients, many who have now become friends. Plus this career has enabled me to work and live in a stunning part of the world. Doesn't get better than that does it?

I'm halfway through a week's holiday here in the Lake District, hence writing this post on a rainy day, so I bet you can't guess what the next blog post will be about? Yes, I have my camera with me! It's only about a month away untiI I'll drive down to Méribel for the start of another season. Right, that'll do for now. I hope you enjoyed this post, and giggled at the silly photos of a much younger me? Don't forget to Live With Passion. Martin.