What the papers say.

Beginner’s luck in quiet Vaujany, France’s secret ski village

By Kate O’Grady

As we neared the French Alps with their groomed pistes, cable cars and snowy peaks,  I was terrified. Not because I hate skiing.

On the contrary, I have loved it since the age of seven and consider myself almost competent.

No, my fear was purely on account of my boyfriend, Charlie, a cautious fellow at the best of times, for whom this was a first experience.

There was even a wager at his office as to which limb he would break first. I began to wonder whether our relationship could handle the fallout from any kind of alpine catastrophe.

But I'd not counted on Vaujany working its magic, with more than a little help from specialist operator Ski Peak.

Vaujany is a village before it is a resort  - but one that's linked seamlessly to Alpe d'Huez, a vast and varied ski playground. For the beginner, it's perfect.

We were staying at Hotel Rissiou, a warm, welcoming place with lashings of rustic charm and a legendary kitchen. Homely trinkets hung from walls and beams and from the moment of our arrival the staff, older than the typical gap - year workers, offered impeccable service, all without the hint of a hangover.

By the time we reached our room our fears had already begun to melt away. Even the jagged mountains, looming beyond our balcony, prompted interest rather than terror.

And Ski Peak had yet to play its trump card: chef Marcus Cull. Nothing had prepared us for the seven-course banquet that appeared every evening. From delicately-melting lamb to intoxicating desserts, this was gastronomic genius that would have Mr Ramsay reaching for something stronger than the F-word.

Charlie, a keen foodie, was in heaven. Smug as I was that I had sold skiing to Charlie through his stomach, I was only too aware that ESF, the French ski school, would not be able to use this tactic in tomorrow's lesson.
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The quiet ski resort making a noise

Want to take a young family skiing somewhere that you can enjoy as well? Vaujany was a quiet mountain farming village until a few years ago, and still retains its backwater atmosphere despite now having access to some of the best skiing in the Alps, as Rupert Uloth discovered

IF I ever had the chance, I would ask Jeremy Clarkson which car to drive or Andy Murray which tennis racket to buy, and would doubtless be treated like those people who ask doctors at drinks parties for their opinion on various symptoms.

But, when I spent some time with Peter Hardy in Klosters last season, it seemed only sensible to ask the editor of Hardy's Skiing and Snowboarding Guide and founder of welove2ski.com which ski resort he would advise for a family holiday. When he told me that he has spent the past decade taking his children to the same small, unfashionable French resort (you fly to Grenoble not Geneva), I decided to go there before I even asked its name.

‘An unusual mixture of the old and the modern, Vaujany is a charming base for some superlative skiing’ Vaujany may not trip off the tongue like Verbier, Val d'Isere or the Vallee Blanche, but part of its charm is that, until a few years ago, it could only dream of being a grown-up ski resort. Its inhabitants used to gaze jealously across the seemingly unbridgeable valley at their flashy alpine neighbours in Alpe d'Huez. That was before they sold land to France's largest hydroelectric scheme. They spent the money wisely and exchanged tractors for piste bashers and cow sheds for ski chalets. Most significantly of all, they built a giant 160-person cable car to link into the main ski area with its 150 miles of pistes.

Now, the village is an unusual mixture of the old-with wooden farmhouses and chickens and goats, which appear in the spring-and the modern, with escalator access to much of the village and a big public indoor swimming pool that has an enormous slide. If you're looking for the buzz of a busy alpine resort together with the cheers and whoops of late-night revellers, then this is the wrong place for you.

What it does give you, however, is a peaceful, charming retreat from which to launch into some superlative skiing. The Champagne Run is the longest lift served piste in the world, starting from the 11,000ft Pic Blanc and finishing below Vaujany itself. I can't claim to have completed it in one go; there are far too many tempting mountain restaurants on the way. We also spent a day exploring off-piste on the other side of Pic Blanc, where we were picked up by helicopter.

Without the enthusiastic blandishments of some young American friends, I may not have taken on La Fare, the black run to the bottom of the valley, on the first day. But the sense of achievement (helped by rides on shoulders) gave great encouragement to the children. It was something of a miracle that it still had snow in April. The Ecole du Ski Français is well established in Alpe d'Huez, although its no-nonsense approach contrasts with more nurturing styles in Austria and Switzerland. The only people who might feel under-served are the less confident intermediate skiers, but there is generally something for everyone. The highlight for us was Chalet Saskia, which we retreated to each day. Run by English-based company Ski Peak, it has superb, uninterrupted views down the valley. It may not compare with the uberluxury offerings found in the fashionable resorts, but is certainly the best on offer in Vaujany. It stands out for the superb staff and standard of cooking. New Zealand chef Marcus Cull enjoys his cooking as much as his snowboarding, and has been working here for 15 seasons. A typical dinner would be five courses. One night, we had a duck confit followed by pan-fried scallops with a spinach, aubergine and asparagus pancetta with a grapefruit beurre blank—and that was before we got to the main course of roast beef with foie gras and Jerusalem artichokes. The company rep Ed sorted out all those tedious aspects of a skiing holiday such as hiring skis and boots and checked on us every day to give us updates on snow reports and, in our case, the state of the volcano in Iceland; when our flight fell victim to the chaos, he got us back to England by coach with the minimum of fuss.

Now, I'm thinking of going to the cinema. Where's Tom Cruise when you need him?