‘We burst through the top of the fluffiness into a glorious sunny day above the clouds’

From a first taste of fresh powder to an adventure on the Japanese pistes, your best ski holiday experiences didn’t disappoint

TRIUMPH IN LES ARCS

I never wanted to ski – couldn’t see the point of going up a hill in freezing weather just to slide down it risking a broken neck. However, when my teenage sons both passed their exams, I offered them a holiday of their choice. To my horror they chose skiing, so off we went to Les Arcs in France. The first morning they duly went to join a class and for the next few days I watched them get better and come whizzing down the nursery slope roaring with laughter. I decided to give it a go. It really was not that difficult. I never got higher than the nursery slope but drank a lot of excellent French wine and loved my holiday.

Mark Milbank, Dorset

LADIN LESSONS

For me, the best resort is Alta Badia in the Dolomites. Set within a Unesco World Heritage site, the area has been shaped by the centuries-old Ladin culture, which still thrives today. The skiing is second to none: a vast network of easy and intermediate pistes criss-crosses the dramatic vertical cliff faces of the Pale Mountains. It is not just the skiing that is so appealing. Every time I go I am mesmerised by the chocolate-box villages that serve the resort. There’s not a single concrete mass-tourism hotel in sight. The ancient timber farm buildings blend so well into the surroundings – with no one in any rush to change things. Long may it continue. Harry Sharp, Birmingham

IF AT FIRST YOU DON’T SUCCEED

A few years ago, while still in my 40s, I booked a trip to Val d’Isère in the French Alps. Before I left, I had lessons at my local dry ski slope and decided I could ski. When I got there, Val d’Isère did not disappoint: snow, mountains, sun. There were World Cup and Olympic runs, lots of off-piste and enough terrain for experienced, intermediate and beginner skiers. Confident after my dry-skiing, off I went. I tumbled down the slopes. So I tried the outdoor ice rink; I couldn’t stand up. I tried the climbing walls, but my arms were not strong enough. So, instead, I spent my time in a two-Michelin-starred restaurant. Maybe I couldn’t ski, but I still enjoyed my skiing holiday.

Ceri Williams, Carmarthenshire

BOARDERS BEWARE

Snowboarders can be a liability; they always seem to be falling over, forcing skiers to take evasive action. No such problems at Deer Valley in Utah, as snowboarders are banned from the slopes. The numbers on the slopes are also limited, so as well as being able to take sweeping carves through the snow without worrying about a boarder falling in front of you, the lines at the lifts are not busy either. The food is also the best I have ever had at a ski resort, so much so it can be hard to drag yourself back onto the slopes. But at least you don’t have to carry your skis home at the end of the day as there is overnight storage. You can see why Deer Valley is popular with stars such as Lady Gaga, Bruce Springsteen and John Travolta. Chris Allen, Buckinghamshire

GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN

The condors were circling as we abandoned our minibus and waded through deep snow up to Chacaltaya. The ski-hire shop perched precariously on the ridge. After that climb, the view at 17,600ft was (quite literally) breathtaking. Around us, the Andes stretched into the distance; below lay the pristine slope of the glacier field. The same solitary Bolivian who rented us our battered skis offered us hot sweet mate (coca tea), before firing up the wheezy generator that powered the fraying rope of the tow-lift. We felt privileged to have skied at the highest ski resort in the world. But times – and the climate – change. The 18,000-year-old Chacaltaya glacier melted away. With no glacier and no snow, the resort was abandoned in 2009. Few remember, except the ever-circling condors. Caroline Moult, Wiltshire

PEERLESS POWDER

We had been promised the best powder in the world. Rusutsu resort in Hokkaido, Japan, sits above its own amusement park: so kitschy it was unreal. Meanwhile, the slopes of Furano – nicknamed Heso no Machi (belly-button town) because it is right in the island’s centre – run under an amusement park. There I carved beneath a huge Ferris wheel. Ten glorious days of sunshine did not bring any fresh powder, but we found our own fresh tracks among the tree-lined runs. Or so we thought. There in deep powder I found a wallet, with yen and credit cards. While handing it over to a lift employee, not a word of Japanese nor English was said. Gestures and smiles said it all. I knew that it would be returned to its rightful owner.

Tracy Stuart-Allen, Worcestershire