John McCarthy: ‘As a hostage, I dreamed of skiing now the freedom of the slopes is finally mine’ – Telegraph.co.uk

Three decades after his release from captivity the British journalist discovered the delights of skiing during the festive period

The mountain peaks of the Val dAosta in Italy soared high and majestic into clear blue sky above Courmayeur. The snow was brilliant white and deep perfect conditions for the start of our Christmas skiing holiday.

The only blot on these bright first moments was me: I lay spread-eagled in the snow, having come a cropper seconds after donning my skis. You alright Dad? my 14-year-old daughter Lydia called, from lower down the slope.

I was a bit embarrassed, but fine, thanks. This was Lydias first Christmas outside England, and my first for nearly 30 years. In 1986 Id gone to Lebanon to cover the civil war, my first foreign assignment as a TV news producer. Westerners were being targeted by militant groups and while trying to get to the airport and return home, I was kidnapped and held hostage for over five years. Christmases in captivity were grim; yearning for happy times at home while chained up in tiny, windowless cells, with poor food and random brutality from our captors.

In 1991 UN-led negotiations saw the release of all remaining hostages. Since then Ive enjoyed traditional Christmases at home with extended family. But last year our plans were vague, and when Lydias mum committed to volunteering for Crisis at Christmas, I suddenly thought that Lydia and I could do something different too. Not as worthy perhaps but a lot of fun if I could stay upright.

I dusted myself off and we headed up on the Pra Neyron chairlift that rises from Courmayeurs mid-mountain hub of Plan Chcrouit. Swinging above the snow-tipped forest, all the bustle of getting to Courmayeur ebbed away and, taking deep breaths of fresh mountain air, we relaxed.

The chairlift stopped briefly, and we smiled at each other, enjoying the sudden stillness. Its just so beautiful! Lydia said, in wonder. Yes, and so peaceful. I replied, the sense of calm so different from the awful tension of the captive years. Far below the pistes were dotted with tiny figures, skiers and snowboarders in an LS Lowry vision of Narnia.

At the top of Pra Neyron we got our first sight of Monte Bianco, as we learnt to call Mont Blanc, the tallest mountain in Europe, from the Italian side. Skiing from the chairlift, the rudimentary skills gained on our last outing two years ago Lydias first ever ski trip, my first for a decade emerged. We both took a few more spills, but it did nothing to dent the delight of dad and daughter being on the slopes again.

Racing freely, if chaotically, down the side of a mountain under wide blue skies was in total contrast to that past life of captive horizons, limited by concrete walls in small cells. Though not a skier then, Id sometimes take mental flight and imagine conquering the pistes of Lebanons mountains. Now, happily for me, its that confined experience that seems like a fantasy.

The plan this trip was that we would improve our skills and that first day clearly showed the need. Ryan Brown, our instructor from the Monte Bianco ski school, took us back to the basics of snowploughing, before moving on to parallel turns. Lydia was immediately in control, while I took longer to overcome the urge to lean backwards and throw myself into crashing turns.

Later, eating lunch in the packed Pizzeria Christiania at Plan Chcrouit, we watched TV coverage of a World Cup giant slalom event, the racers pivoting through the turns, shoulders almost touching the ground. Ill soon be doing that! I said. But although I thought Id been getting into the rhythm, Lydia wasnt convinced. Sure Dad, as soon as you stop falling over at every turn.

When we met Ryan for our second lesson, we mentioned watching the race, and he told us that a couple of weeks before hed been competing in slalom at Pila, across the valley from Courmayeur. And yet he was teaching me, whose prime ambition, despite what I said to Lydia, is not to race but to ski sedately and steadily down, rather than veering faster left and right before crash!

By the end of the lesson, though not utterly sedate, I was much steadier. I even, occasionally, skied for whole minutes without thinking about what I was doing, just going with the rhythm of the piste.

Our base, Hotel Courmayeur, sits at one end of Via Roma, a winding, cobbled street through the town centre, lined with chic boutiques, smart restaurants and bars. A huge Christmas tree ablaze with lights was set up in Piazza Abb Henry at the other end, and we loved the views from here down over rooftops and up to mountains.

Walking back to the hotel past enticing delicatessens, I realised that we were missing out on our usual last-minute Christmas preparations; buying food, making ready for guests, wrapping presents. But while I love the buzz of Christmas at home, it was a nice change to have nothing to do except relax which, back at the hotel, meant playing pool and table football before the gala Christmas Eve meal.

We exchanged greetings with fellow guests and staff, but while it was fun to try the main dish, the traditional, Baccal, or salted cod, we both reckoned Christmas dinner at home makes a better feast.

But, on Christmas morning, any worries about missing out were blown away when we woke to clear blue skies, then had our confidence boosted by newly smoothed pistes that flattered our newly-minted skills.

Christmas Day lunch, Courmayeur style was not turkey and trimmings, but burgers and hot chocolate, scoffed while gazing at the mountains. Wed had no carol service, and only brought one present each far from the usual, but that was all part of the fun.

We ended the day swooshing down a red into the centre of Plan Chcrouit, where we high fived happily among a throng of incredibly elegant fur-coated Italians and their little dogs. The sunshine had brought Courmayeurs fashionable non-skiing clientele up from town to enjoy a stroll and drinks in the mountain restaurants.

In the middle of the week, we took a day off skiing, instead soaring to 3,500m on the Skyway Monte Bianco cable car just outside Courmayeur. Its 360-degree rotating cabins serve off-piste runs for gung-ho skiers, but we were happy to leave our equipment behind.

Where is Monte Bianco exactly? asked Lydia. Erm, right there! I said, pointing confidently. But the massive mountain could have been anywhere, so dense was the snow swirling around the terrace at the top of the cable car. On a clear day the view must be amazing, but it was still exciting to be there, feeling the elemental power of nature. Skyway has a bookshop, a crystal exhibition, a museum, a fantastic restaurant, even a winery. But out on the terrace I was reminded that, for all our ingenuity, the mountains are a wilderness we cannot control.

Thud, a snowball landed on my back, and I turned to see Lydia laughing as she scuttled back indoors.

Brilliant sunshine lit our final days skiing and we found the confidence to try a new piste, a red run from the Maison Vieille chairlift. It was wonderful to be sharing this beautiful environment, and mostly having the piste to ourselves New Year tends to be much busier Im told.

This Christmas away from home was different, no familiar feasts and just the two of us, but it had been a super holiday. Most importantly, unlike those five Christmases in Lebanon, wed chosen to be away, enjoying our freedom on the slopes of Courmayeur.

I wondered how Lydia found it, worried that it hadnt been Christmassy enough.

She laughed, Christmassy enough? Dad, we've finally had a real White Christmas as well as brilliant skiing!

A weeks holiday in Courmayeur staying with Inghams (inghams.co.uk; 01483 938 047) at the three-star Hotel Courmayeur starts 839 per person half-board, including flights and transfers. Skis and boots, lift passes and ski lessons can all be booked in advance through Inghams. Tickets for the Skyway Monte Bianco (montebianco.com) start at 52 for a return journey from Courmayeur to Punta Helbronner.

John McCarthys trip took place before the Covid-19 pandemic, in December 2019. The Foriegn Commonwealth and Development Office currently advises against all non-essential travel to Italy arrivals into the UK, from Italy, must self isolated. Ski resorts in Italy are currently closed until January 7 2021 and on 20th December the Italian government announced the immediate suspension of all flights between the UK and Italy until January 6 2021.

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John McCarthy: 'As a hostage, I dreamed of skiing now the freedom of the slopes is finally mine' - Telegraph.co.uk