The 10 tell-tale signs that you’ve become a ski bore

Do you live for pow, know your top speed by heart and dress your hallway in Gore-Tex? Watch out, says Matt Hampton

There’s no dispute that travel bores abound – but, when it comes to irritating enthusiasts, is the ski bore king of the hill? In fairness, they’re usually innocuous – perhaps only guilty of talking a little too intently about snow – but if you’re among the worst offenders (the occasional slip into pedantics is a dead giveaway), you may well be driving the non-skiers around you quietly mad. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with being passionate and vocal about something you love – though, if you tick off too many of the below traits, don’t be surprised if your friends and family disagree.

YOU HAVE MANY WORDS FOR

THE WHITE STUFF

Like a certain ex-president, you know words. And you have the best words, especially for snow. Crud, corn, boilerplate, hardpack – you wouldn’t touch that with someone else’s pole. But powder – pow – fluffy, pillowy, champagne fresh… this is what you live for. And drone on about, endlessly. If there is snow about – real snow, fake snow, forecasted snow – you’ll talk about it.

YOUR EARS PRICK UP WHEN YOU HEAR THE SKI SUNDAY THEME

It is one of the catchiest scores ever written, but you tune in for Graham Bell’s specialist analysis – even if his specialist subject is, in fact, his own professional career – Chemmy’s wardrobe inspiration and the novelty of seeing a snowboarder on the presenting line-up. It all looks like easy work – in fact, you fancy your chances with that headcam down the Streif …

YOU’VE GONE PRO

“Is my light on? Can you see the red light?” Because if it’s not on video, did it even happen?

From that 27-minute epic on the Pic du Midi to the two-second blip on the Streif (when you accidentally stopped filming instead of starting), and the subsequent trip to the toilet when, unfortunately, you started it again, your GoPro footage is a sight to behold. Both of your Instagram followers agree.

Aside from this, your social media accounts remain inactive outside of winter – because if there’s no white background, what’s the point?

YOUR KIT LIVES IN THE HALLWAY FROM NOVEMBER TO MAY

Not just a jacket but boots, poles, avalanche transceiver – the whole lot. Just in case someone comes over and notices. “Oh yeah,” you say, nonchalantly. “I’m going skiing; haven’t I mentioned it?”

Sometimes it stays there year-round, as objets d’art.

AND THERE’S A LOT OF IT

Acres of Gore-Tex, powder planks, touring skis, MIPS helmet (you even know what MIPS means) – you take what you need depending on the snow forecast.

YOU HAVE ALL THE SNOW FORECASTS

And you don’t need to check them, because the alerts are set. Big dump in Kazakhstan? (Scurries off to check fares for Almaty.)

YOUR DIGESTIVE TRACT HAS EVOLVED TO PROCESS FONDUE

Not for you the fevered cheese dreams of overindulgence, or a rapidly solidifying rennet football in your lower intestine. You don’t so much hide from this traditional Alpine horror as actively seek it out, like some kind of gourmet deviant.

YOU HAVE AN APP FOR THAT

Most likely Ski Tracks, which not only allows you to track your routes but also gives a daily tally of the altitude gained, distance travelled and, crucially, your top speed. It’s curious how you managed to clock 70mph on the last run of the day (did you drive back to the chalet, by any chance?)

But there are more useful apps, of course. Fatmap is a pretty handy alternative to the paper ones that disintegrate after coming into contact with snow, and Skibro provides an easy way to hook up with an instructor ( just be careful the instructor isn’t using “hook up” in the modern sense). Your phone’s storage is bursting with them all.

LA FOLIE IS TOO COMMERCIAL THESE DAYS

You didn’t mind it back in the day, but it’s getting out of hand now. Hordes of young people who don’t know how to drink properly, and can’t even ski when they’re drunk. You just pop in for a fondue and a good bottle of Chemin de Fer, watch the cabaret, listen to a bit of jazz flute and have a quick al fresco dance on the tables while taking a few selfies. What’s wrong with that?

YOU’VE BEEN TO JACKSON HOLE AND JAPAN…

You even forked out for a guided heli-skiing day in Whistler for extra gnarly credentials. But Jackson (just Jackson to those in the know) is the name to drop at dinner parties. Even if Corbet’s Couloir is a drop too far.

i ‘Did I mention I’m going skiing?’ – this is snow joke for the ski bore