It was my third day skiing, and a couple of school friends and I were at the top of a black run high above the resort of Madesimo in the Italian Alps. It was a school trip, and we were 15. The others had skied before, I hadn't. But that morning after fairly rapid progress the previous two days, we'd set ourselves the challenge of a black run.
The piste map, which was as clear as the map of the London Underground - and as deceptive - made it look easy. The friendly colours told us that blue signified easy slopes, red, slightly more difficult ones and black the most difficult. We had yet to acquire fear, physical or metaphysical. We'd try a black run.
The ride up there was better than Alton Towers, with none of the fake twists and turns and all the thrills. The chair lift took us ever higher into the mountain in a series of regulated dips. We left behind the snow-dusted trees and the view opened up. Mountains appeared from behind mountains, one multiplying into dozens, as though this was the real nature of the world and we'd spent the previous decade-and-a-half hiding in a playground deep in a valley.
It was a defining moment, falling in love with the mountains and their eerie peace, the clear pale blue sky above and the snow so bright you stare at it once and then never again without shaded glasses. Defining, but not as defining as staring back down from the top of the mountain. Our expressions said it all. A man next to us told us not to worry: it wasn't as bad as it looked. We told him it was our third morning, and his expression immediately matched our own. Good luck was all he could offer, and then he pushed off and went over the slope. Within seconds he was a distant speck. It was like watching someone in controlled freefall.
An hour later, having used my bottom more than my skis, we were back in the village telling skier's versions of fisherman's tales, and other than a night when I discovered what it was like to become sick on cheap wine, those are the only memories of the holiday.
They weren't enough to get me back. Winter sun got in the way, and I'd doubled in age before I returned to the slopes, a complete beginner again.
It took a different form of courage this time. I've nothing against going back to school, provided it's in the evening and I'm learning Spanish with other seasoned travellers dreaming of buying a place somewhere in Andalucia. But on my first morning in ski school I didn't want to fall over in front of a lot of infants. Luckily, they have their own classes.
My fellow learners were aged between 16 and 35, consisted of five nationalities and embodied every conceivable level of fitness. By the end of the first class we were following one another in a snake down the nursery slopes. Quick progress almost convinced me I'd never forgotten how to ski.
And returning after all these years I'd even got the hang of après-ski, no longer bolting down the cheapest alcohol I could find, and with an impressive tolerance for the better stuff.
The food seems to have improved as well. It can be as basic or as elaborate as you want to pay for, either in restaurants or in your hotel or chalet. Skiing in Courchevel in France earlier this year with Simply Ski, we had a Gary Rhodes-trained chef bringing us four courses every evening.
Then there are the nights out - at least as much fun as the day's skiing. It's a sad fact that our social life back home is sometimes no more than having friends round for a meal or going to the pub. Well it's not like that in a ski resort. Dancing after midnight? In the UK, maybe at a wedding, but in St Anton in Austria the bars seemed never to shut, the early hours bringing ever taller ski tales ('I crashed into a tree.') There must be something about the fresh air that makes us seek out the balance of smoky bars in the evening.
Ask anyone who likes skiing if they're looking forward to the new season, and watch their face light up. Then while they're in a good mood, ask to join them. You won't regret it. I haven't.
No more excuses
'I'd never be able to learn'
Learning to ski is easier than ever, thanks to the new 'carving' skis which are now the standard type at rental shops. Their shape allows you to turn more easily. They are also shorter and lighter. Teaching has come a long way and there is a choice of English-speaking instructors in many resorts.
'I'm scared of hurting myself'
Injuries are rare and most happen to those with too much physical confidence, not too little. Confidence comes gradually but, as with all challenges, a day's success on the slopes gives you at least as much glow as the sun and fresh air.
'I'm not fit enough'
Skiing is great exercise but you are unlikely to overexert yourself at first. Most gyms and leisure centres run pre-ski fitness programmes, or check out www.learn-skiing-snowboarding.com.
'I'm scared of heights'
Some chairlifts and cable cars require a strong stomach, but most don't and in the early stages you won't be using them as you will stick to the lower slopes. Even those not keen on heights find this gradual introduction helps, as does the fact that the slopes below are covered in snow.
'I don't like the sound of the après-ski scene'
Most people don't. Luckily hordes of posh teenagers being sick are largely confined to TV documentaries about chalet staff. Choose your resort carefully, however. Courchevel 1550 - one of Courchevel's four resorts, where the figures denote altitude - is quieter and less expensive than Courchevel 1850. Megève is luxurious without being a party town. Montchavin is good for families and couples wanting to relax.
'I don't have a group to go with'
The range of accommodation and holidays means there are plenty of ways to go as a single traveller, and skiing is a great way to make friends. Lessons are very sociable, and if you opt for a chalet or chalet hotel you'll be eating your evening meals with fellow skiers.
'I don't like the cold'
Go later in the season, in March and April, and you can ski in a T-shirt. In January in high resorts, temperatures can drop to -15C (5F) but only a couple of months later it might be 10C (50F) or 15C (59F).
'It's too expensive'
Skiing isn't cheap, but there are ways of reducing the cost. Borrow rather than buy equipment for your first trip (just in case). Go as part of a group if possible. Self-catering apartments are a lot less expensive than hotels.
Choose a less-expensive resort such as Andorra or one of the eastern European resorts in Bulgaria or Romania (often with less challenging slopes, which matters less the first time).
Consider driving if you are going with a group of friends. The cost for a group of four in a car is less than for four travelling on budget flights, and you can get an extra day's skiing if you have the car to store your gear in on the final day.
For example, Eurotunnel Holidays (0870 333 2001) has a two-room apartment, sleeping four, for £431 - or £108 per person - in January, including Eurotunnel crossing. Beginners' rental gear costs £58 each for skis, poles and boots. A Three Valleys lift pass costs £126 for six days, or less if you buy one just for Courchevel. Lessons are £70 each per week. The total is £272, plus petrol and toll road charges across France shared between four.
