The fall guy on the Cardrona slopes

By CHRIS BARTON

The loss of composure begins late afternoon. Most of Cardrona's slopes are in shadow, the sun pushing its last rays over the crest.

The snow, crisscrossed by the day's skiers, is soft, but not mushy. Sliding towards MacDougall's chair in wide S-bends, I execute my best parallel turn of the day and then, for no fathomable reason, cross my skis, slip sideways and fall on my backside.

On the humiliation scale, it's about a 5 - average embarrassment, seen by maybe a dozen others. Lying ungainly in the snow I laugh (inwardly) remembering other times this has happened, including a spectacular face plant a year ago when traversing a slope at Whakapapa.

This is the essence of skiing. It's not to gain mastery of a slippery domain. Nor, as ski bores will tell you, to get the perfect swishing run on a glorious day. The joy of skiing is in the courting of that most misunderstood of emotions - making a complete idiot of yourself.

It's the essential ingredient of any good family skiing holiday. With it you can laugh, groan, sometimes cry, relive the ineptness in stories at the end of the day and laugh some more.

Watching fellow humans slip, slither, lose their balance and go for a burton is inherently funny. How else do you explain why thousands flock to participate in a fall-over farce on these slopes every year?

DAY ONE: The direct Air New Zealand flight from Auckland to Queenstown takes two hours. It's a cloudless day and the otherness and emptiness of the South Island - snow-capped alps, chocolate-brown hills, brooding lakes and lonely rivers - takes hold.

Dropping out of a clear blue sky past a granite mountain face to land at Queenstown Airport is an appropriately majestic entrance. From here we pick up the rental car and drive carefully for an hour across the challenging Crown Range to base camp at Wanaka. A good base camp is another vital ingredient for a ski holiday, and Heritage Village is perfect.

We take a two-bedroom cottage - roomy lounge with gas fire, adjoining a spacious dining area and agreeably appointed kitchen. Our bedroom has an ensuite and the main bathroom has an enormous spa bath - perfect for soothing humiliated bones at the end of the day.

There's also a covered carport, drying room and laundry. One could happily live here for months. Adding to the luxury, there's a gym with spa and a tennis court. That evening we drive five minutes into Wanaka township, pick up provisions, enjoy a fine glass of Chard Farm Pinot Gris at Missy's Kitchen overlooking the lake (very Ponsonby Rd, but without the posers) and then some excellent pizza at Tuatara.

DAY TWO: It's dark and cold at 7.30am when we drop into Cafe Fe on the corner of the Heritage Village compound for a hearty breakfast. We're on the road by 8.15am and reach the top car park (1669m high) of Cardrona at 9am.

The snow here - "higher, drier, naturally better" - is the real thing, not man-made stuff.

We hire the necessary gear and do the ski-boot stump to the Kids' Club to get our 12-year-old daughter, Monika, enrolled in the Skiwees programme. We learn that Monika and her group will be with their instructor, Sara, from 10am to 4pm. Her four-day package includes all-day lessons and lunch and hot-chocolate stops at Cardrona's various mountain cafes.

Everyone is happy. The parents can do their own thing at their own pace and Monika can be rid of her parents.

Cardrona is family friendly, catering for children of all ages. Kids' Korral is a creche for those aged 3 months to 3 years. Ski Korral is for 3- to 5-year-olds and is creche care with, or without, snow. Skis are available on the spot for Child's Play, a confidence-building introduction to skiing using a 20m "magic carpet" conveyor to get up the gentle incline just outside the club building. From there the advance can be made to Little Rippers, a 90-minute lesson both morning and afternoon.

After a fine lunch at the Noodle Bar restaurant - great choice of hokkien, udon, rice and vermicelli noodles with chicken, beef, shrimp, seafood or combinations - we clump off for our first lessons. As once-a-year skiers, we find we always need these to get our confidence back.

My partner heads for the beginner slopes where a longer magic carpet conveyor makes going uphill just a matter of standing up - so much easier than a rope tow and a superb invention for beginner skiers that is sadly lacking on North Island fields.

I'm up the MacDougall quad and lining up in a group lesson with instructor Simon, who wants us to understand the physics of skiing.

He draws lots of diagrams in the snow, makes us take off our skis and turn one boot in an arc around the other boot. "This is the fundamental mechanics of skiing - has no one shown you this before?" he says. I have no idea what he is on about.

Next he tells us to imagine we have a TV on our stomach like the Telly Tubbies and to always keep the screen facing downhill. We ski down with our bellies protruding looking like complete prats.

DAY THREE: The humiliation begins early at the foot of the mountain as I grimace in the rain to put chains on the front tyres. I end up covered in mud and my hands are frozen blue. But as we drive to the top car park, the rain gives way to snow and everything turns strangely quiet and magical.

We find the Skiwees instructor and Monika tells me I can go - quickly. My group lesson is with Siobhan, who is much more cheerful than Simon and gets us into parallel turns right away. She tells the group how too much skiing wrecked her leg and put her in plaster for three months - and that she must be mad because she just can't keep away from the snow.

We need to stop bending our upper bodies. "You don't turn by doing this," says Siobhan, twisting from side to side. "If you did that going down the slope you'd look like a complete idiot." I agree, but keep my body so rigid that I forget about the turn and fall over. Getting off the chair for the next run, an Australian woman flaps, clips a ski on the bloke next to her and falls legs akimbo. On the humiliation scale it's a 7.

"I don't know what it is about middle-aged men, but they always clutch on to me," she says, brushing herself off.

The lesson over, I discover the Skyline run - dramatic sliding in a sinking sun on top of the world with glorious mountain scenery. Oh no, I'm becoming a ski bore.

Everyone has had a fantastic day, so on the way home we take apres ski at the historic Cardrona Hotel. Mulled wine, roaring fire - bliss. On the way back to base camp, just past the Cardrona entrance, we notice the bra fence - about 50m of both new and weathered bras in all shapes, sizes and colours ingeniously hung out in a paddock on No 8 wire. Bra-vo.

DAY FOUR: "The snow looks like there's glitter in it," says Monika on the drive up. So it does. Another magic day except for a biting cold wind. My confidence up, I slide into the rather steep All Nations valley and much to my surprise make it down to the Whitestar Express - Cardrona's pride and joy.

The $4.5 million high-speed detachable quad chair travels 5m a second and takes just four minutes to get to the top - and has padded seats. The terrain at Cardrona - 25 per cent learner, 55 per cent intermediate, 20 per cent advanced runs - spread over 320ha, is a great mix for the varying abilities of our family. After lunch at the Mezze cafe - the snack bowl is filling - I meet Monika and her Skiwees group for skiing with the parents.

From the top of MacDougall's we take the track across to the farthest part of the Cardrona field - the Captain's Chair. Sara the instructor has developed a screaming technique with the girls - "like a karate yell, it helps with concentration" - as they charge down the slope.

Monika tells me about the poor chap they saw earlier on his back, indented in the snow. "Are you all right?" they yelled from the chair. "Yes," came the reply as he continued to lie there. I suspect he was contemplating the essence of skiing.

Monika understands the essence perfectly as I follow her into some powder and she goes sprawling, skis and poles scattered. She takes a while to get up because she's laughing so much.

DAY FIVE: Another brilliantly cold morning. I take a group lesson to tune my parallels. Michael instructs on steering to make a sharp uphill turn. "I call it a schmere, because that's what it sounds like."

The schmere does indeed sound and feel great and means you can stop in an instant. Maybe I'm finally getting the hang of this.

At the end of the lesson we take the scenic run at the top of Captain's. It's a stunning vista across the Southern Alps to Queenstown, but the biting wind threatens to freeze the side of my face off.

At 3pm parents gather while Skiwee instructors hand out certificates to all the kids and there are photos with Pengi, the mountain mascot. Lots of hugs and sad-to-be-leaving goodbyes.

A little earlier my partner has fallen awkwardly - just when she was getting the hang of things - and torn knee ligaments. She gets a ride down the mountain on the Ski Patrol skimobile, then an ambulance to Dunstan Hospital and stories of embarrassment and ignominy to hoot about for decades to come.

It will be a hard act to follow next year, but with skiing there's always another way to fall.

Cardrona Alpine Resort Winter season: June 24 - October 10

Contact: Cardrona
or phone 03-4437411.

Multi day ski set hire: $27/day adult, $20/day child.

4 out of 6-day lift pass: $245 adult, $123 child.

Skiwee full-day supervision and lunch: $249.

Group lessons: from $37.

Heritage Village, Cnr Orchard and Cardrona Rd, Wanaka, or phone 0800-443599.

Two-bedroom cottage: $350 a night.

Maui Rental Cars

Mitsubishi Lancer or similar, 1-6 days: $62/day.

Air New Zealand Has several flights a day direct to Queenstown with return airfares from around $282.

* Chris Barton travelled to Queenstown courtesy of Cardrona Alpine Resort.