Slippery slope

As I slid backwards, gathering speed at an alarming rate, I heard a little voice cry out: "Backward pizza, backward pizza."

The advice came from a boy with all the trimmings of a professional skier: brightly-coloured kit, goggles and crash helmet. As instructed, I brought the back of my skis together while opening them at the front to form the shape of a pizza slice.

I came to a dead stop on the "nursery" slope of Soldeu, in Andorra. When you're a first-timer on the pistes, you accept advice gratefully, even from a seven-year-old.

Skiing had never held much attraction for me, ever since a missed opportunity when I was on a school exchange in Voiron, near Grenoble, one of the prime skiing areas in France. I had been forced to sit out on the fun and games because of a twisted ankle, and spent a wretched day getting colder and colder while my French pals swooshed around.

Those unhappy associations with skiing stayed with me. Stories of skiiers buried by avalanches or crashing into trees and a notion that skiing was for toffs only reinforced my latent hostility to the sport.

Yet here I was in Andorra, a tiny principality wedged between France and Spain, learning how to ski with three other beginners on a three-day crash course. Surrounded by tiny tots on the aptly named nursery slope, we were practically the only adults.

Our first manoeuvre was to bring the tips of our skis together to form a wedge. It's a bit like driving with the handbrake on. You go very slowly. But even on a gentle slope, it was frighteningly easy to pick up speed if you narrowed the wedge too much. Invariably we all fell over on the first day.

Going downhill with the wedge is quite easy, so after a few runs I decided to go to the next stage, green (from there it goes to blue, red and finally black). Big mistake. The change in gradient was too much for my rudimentary skills. A slight twitch of the feet, a loss of my wedge shape, and suddenly I was zooming out of control. I tried desperately and unsuccessfully to pull the skis back into a wedge shape and my crash course became just that.

I veered wildly from one side of the slope to the other, just missing decapitation by ducking underneath the steel cable that pulls people to the top of the slope. I was actually quite relieved to end up in the snow instead of sailing over a cliff like a villain in a Bond film - my worst fear prior to the trip. So ended the lesson: an encouraging beginning, then cockiness, followed by humble pie.

For our second day, we went to the resort of Ordino, with slopes that start off at 1,940 metres going up to 2,640 metres. As before, the sun shone brightly and it was so warm that we had to peel off some our layers. I could now see the appeal of skiing. It's not just the activity in and of itself, but the combined splendours of snow-covered mountains, pine trees, warm sun and clear blue sky that proves so enrapturing.

The slopes at Ordino were intimately spectacular, with the peaks crowding around in an aggressive landscape. With such an inspiring backdrop, I was ready for a great leap forward. I got a flea in my ear from our instructor instead.

This was the day for learning turns. You are supposed to press down on your right big toe (no easy feat for a beginner with those clunky ski boots) if you want to turn left and vice versa. So in single file we followed our instructor as he slalomed slowly down the nursery slope. I soon went off in a completely different direction.

"Mark, if you don't listen, you will never learn," he shouted, heaping on the humiliation.

It was one of those situations where you know what you're supposed to do, but the harder you try, the more futile the effort. Unable to relax, I was pressing both toes down simultaneously and not getting anywhere. It was back to the bloody wedge and scooting downhill in the most basic manoeuvre. Meanwhile, a bunch of mini-Jean-Claude Killys whizzed by, making us look like a bunch of real plonkers.

Fortunately, the humiliations of the day were dispelled by some fine dining, consisting of little snails, the ubiquitous but excellent cured ham, and toasted peasant bread smeared with fresh tomatoes and garlic.

In all our time in Andorra, we ate and drank extremely well. The principality, whose co-princes are the bishop of Seu d'Urgell in Spain and President Jacques Chirac, has long shed its pie and chips, lager lout image of the 1980s for a more upmarket move to foie gras and excellent wines.

We also shopped well. Andorra, with its population of 73,000, has no income tax and very low taxes on consumer goods. Designer sunglasses proved particularly popular with our group, with Police and Ray-Bans going for about £30 a pop. Booze and cigarettes were a bargain too. At times I wondered whether we were in Andorra to ski or shop.

For our third and final day, we skiied in the Pal-Arinsal area, wide and open in contrast to Ordino, with a long green slope that was ideal for beginners - and the pesky snowboarders. Here in Arinsal, it all clicked. I managed to press my toes properly and all day long I was turning left and right with consummate ease, feeling quite secure as I skiied all the way to the bottom. I stayed on my feet, except for one wobbly moment, and felt like a natural.

My three fellow novices had all made progress and in the ride back to our hotel, no one spoke as we all basked in a palpable sense of wellbeing and satisfaction. There had been moments of frustration, but in the end we had all become converts to skiing, even me on the wrong side of 50.

Way to go

Mark Tran was a guest of Ski Andorra and stayed at the Art hotel in Andorra la Vella - €65 a night.

Rates: Ski lift rates, high season: from €30-35. Beginner ski pass: €20.

· For more information on Andorra and hotel reservations, visit andorramania.com