Ski whizz: hitting the slopes in NZ

I had to laugh when I saw the photos from my first ski lesson, at Mt Hutt in New Zealand. There we were, instructor Chilly and I, doing synchronised high kicks as if we were trying to perform A Chorus Line on snow.

The little kids, weaving expertly around us, must have thought we looked like a right pair of chumps.

But it was all part of the meticulous warm-ups and balancing drills that Chilly, 35 years my junior, insisted upon before I was allowed near the learners' slope.

That was for everybody's benefit.

Less well known than the fields of Queenstown, Mt Hutt is a gem and was at its shiny best on the sunny day I visited.

And just think, a tourist could fly out from Perth one day and be up on the mountain, swerving about, the next. Mt Hutt is less than an hour from Christchurch, though a stay in the gorgeous village of Methven at the foot of Mt Hutt is a good option.

Its varied slopes cater to all classes of skiers and snowboarders and, as I found, there's a great- value deal for beginners. For $120, you get fully equipped for a day's play that includes a two-hour group lesson and a ski-lift pass.

Getting dressed for skiing is a lesson in itself. I have, at times, three people fussing around helpfully. There are the right-size skis and poles to be chosen, gargantuan boots to be fitted and wind-and-waterproof ski pants to try on.

I even get a lesson in how to carry my equipment and how to walk up stairs in those Herman Munster boots.

In this rig-out I'm as unsteady as an infant taking its first steps.

Out on the snow, I'm all set to latch on the skis and push off but Chilly's having none of that. First, I learn how to attach and release the ski, assume a skiing posture, get the feel of balancing on a sleek skinny timber, do some warm-up gyrations and some gentle step and slides on one ski.

It's here - when I actually have to move - I think, whoa, these skis are much more slippery buggers than I had envisaged. "Jeez, Chilly, I'm in for an almightily embarrassing fall," I complain.

And, indeed, that prophecy was to soon come true, though not in the exact way I had anticipated.

All the while my dedicated instructor is talking clearly and calmly, repeating the main points and saying well done.

I check to see if his nose is growing.

I get to try two skis, learn to crab-walk up gentle slopes, do a bit of gliding and discover the edges of the skis make good brakes.

I glide down, thrust the legs wide apart and then turn them in to stop my momentum. We are still on the gentlest of slopes but then, joy of joy, Chilly clears me for an assault on the slopes.

We head to the top of the beginners slope on a fun gently sloping conveyor belt.

However, getting off the travelator is tricky as you need to take an immediate left turn.

Chilly's behind me, reminding: "Look to where you want to go and it will help you to turn."

By lesson's end I've been on the travelator six times and I'm even starting to weave down the slope and then pull myself up.

However, my dominant right leg is working against my attempted sweeps to the right.

But it's a trifle I'll have to tackle another day, as Chilly calls time on a stumble-free lesson. My only slip-up came while out of Chilly's supervision.

The next morning I was striding with purpose towards breakfast, the smell of bacon in the air.

Had Chilly been with me, emphasising the local conditions - a wafer of overnight ice on the outside decking - I might have averted the ignominy.

I slid flat on my back in full view of the breakfasting diners.

A West Australian, I'm at my best on sand.

Stephen Williams was a guest of Christchurch & Canterbury Tourism. ·For more, see nzski.com.