Tuneintothe latelatesnow!
What a thrill to hear an austrian announcer call your child’s name while a crowd cheers her on. there was ten-year-old alice, high up on the mountain, slaloming between the poles, her face a picture of concentration, her race bib fluttering in the breeze.
She crossed the line third and a bronze medal was hung round her neck. It was a satisfying end to a fabulous week — and all the more pleasing so late in the season. We had been faced with the thorny question: can you take a family skiing at Easter and get enough snow as well as blazing sun and blue skies?
Well, you can in a little resort called St Christoph, the highest of the five arlberg villages, where Inghams runs the Sporthotel, a thoroughly British affair that is well organised, friendly and perfectly positioned. there’s an indoor pool with giant picture window views up the mountain, afternoon tea that had alice slavering over the cakes, and a slap- up meal of four courses and free wine — a boon for thirsty parents when all you have to do is toddle up to bed, not pick your way along icy streets to a distant hotel.
ThE lifts and ski school are right outside the door, so each morning we dropped off alice, and our son Mike, 14, while we made the swift ascent with a gap year Scot who managed to help intermediates like us improve our technique without ever being condescending — though we felt daft practising turns with our poles held out horizontally in front of us like waiters holding trays.
the joy of St Christoph is that it’s cheaper and quieter than its chic neighbours St anton, Lech and Zurs, but thanks to new lifts and cable cars the entire area is now linked, making it the biggest in austria. the days of moving around in buses between these three famous ski towns is over. the only problem was that the heat began to churn up the pistes around lunchtime and by mid-afternoon they were a slushy sea of peaks and troughs. But it was a treat to ski home, stopping off for a drink in glorious sunshine on the deck at the hospiz alm restaurant (complete with slide down to the wine cave and toilets), knowing that those cakes were waiting for us back at base.