Snowshoeing, taking an icy dip – what did it all mean to me at nearly 73

Stretching beyond my comfort zone

Photo by Jason Day - I’m on the very left, my sis, Ro, is on the right

Back in early December, my sis Ro asked me if I’d like to do Sunset Snowshoeing for an afternoon in the high alps. I didn’t even think about it. I simply said yes.

Something new was happening. I was going to spend Xmas and New Year at my sister and brother-in-law’s beautiful abode – an old farmhouse that they had lovingly renovated into a contemporary space with huge windows onto a snowy world of wonder in St Jean D’Aulps, the French high alps – for the first time. With my son, his partner and toddler, grandson. As well as nieces and one partner and a baby. Usually, hot sands and blue oceans lures me south but I loved the idea of a close family Xmas even though I wasn’t sure about all those layers and all that cold. Not to mention the skiing which I’d never done and was not about to start.

Fast forward to after Xmas itself – I had caught a lurgy and actually arrived on the 25^th to whoops with champagne and canapies – to the 30^th and my sis and I are off to snow shoe. Despite the fact that I had no idea really what snow shoes are or what was require. We had a guide. Jason Day – from Days Away Adventures, ha ha – who had a very strong handshake and was so perky he outperked me. And initially, I admit I thought he was a bit of dickhead ie full of himself but I was discover that he was actually full of insightful information about them there amazing mountains. Those jagged peaks, those reminders of distant ages of evolution, those magnificent eruptions on the landscape. The alps. Mont Blanc, even.

And we picked up three more snow shoe-ers in Jason’s van and made our way to the Col d’Encrenaz – a pass that goes up to 4, 705 feet – where we parked and learnt in my case how to step into these strange plastic boats with spikes on the bottom. Ro had her own pair! Evidence that she’d been before. And then we trudged in minus 7 – there was a biting wind and I was so glad that I’d actually equipped myself for the first time for this icy cold, I had thermals, proper gloves even yes a woolly hat – up a track and then onto the upwards path. Helpfully, Jason raised these little heel platforms which helped us with the slopes.

Photo by Jason Day - my sis and me

It was bloomin’ cold and the location was spectacular. Clouds were rushing through the valley looking like waves, conifers were spotted sticking up through from time to time, oh yes and there was sun, the sky was blue. This was a big revelation as it had been a dull day in St Jean yet the sun had burst through. Jason had assured us it was sunny up here. I was seriously sceptical but he was absolutely right.

Our leader – Jason is also an accomplished climber, 60, and has led tours with his wife, Vivien, in Nepal and more – knows exactly where there is a gentle, out of the wind spot for us to stop and stare and imbibe a warm drink. We can hardly contain our enchantment. The sun is beginning to go down. The colours of the sky are changing all the time. The pinks. The blues. Jason is genuinely ecstatic about what lies before us. Mont Blanc on the far left, Perce in the middle and a range of peaks to the right. To say it’s dramatic is an understatement.

I mention the golden eagle. Jason bounds upwards and I follow. He hands me the binoculars to spy on a nest. I can’t see it actually but I think I can just because of the magnitude of the wish. I do see the moon with those binoculars though and Jason tells me an easy way of detecting whether it is waning or waxing….is it a B or D…. B of course is for B. It is a B and waxing. He is absolutely spilling over with information. My ideal guide.

Photo by Jason Day

And we even manage a meditative few minutes in complete silence as the sky changes to mauve in the West. Oh my goodness. The sun disappears and it is suddenly freezing cold. We put on our head torches and snowshoe back down. I mean I would never have snowshoed in the dark without my sister and Jason. What a trip!

And the stepping outside my comfort zone continues on New Year’s Eve during the daytime. We’ve done Kundalini yoga – lots of shaking – we’ve shared deeply and movingly over breakfast and all been in tears. Then we make our way through the new snow – thankfully in the opposite direction to the swarm of skiers, I know my family ski and snow board, but the tribe are like aliens - towards the stream where there are icicles that are artworks.

That stream

And then one of my nieces and I strip off and make our way to the ridiculously freezing waters. We sit in the ice bath. I don’t even scream it’s so cold. It’s shocking. Mercifully we have towels but they hardly help. The pain is unbearable in our hands and feet. Beyond numb. Actually, it does remind me of a childhood spent in Yorkshire playgrounds without being allowed inside. It is horrible. We stumble and pull on clothes.

At the time, there was nothing good about it. I didn’t feel instantly invigorated. I simply felt relieved that it was over. Phew. I’d done it.

And then later I mulled over the snowshoeing and the icy dip and I did decide that something profound had happened. It’s to do with being almost 73 and despite being the co-founder of Advantages of Age – where we challenge the media narrative around ageing – recently I could feel certain submissions and surrenderings creeping in. I could feel the drip drip of having to give a few things up – nothing significant, more a mental attitude of wanting comfort.

And there’s nothing wrong with wanting a bit of comfort.

And yet somehow that snowshoeing and that icy dip signified extending myself again. That I could still do that and it could be fruitful. That felt and still feels exciting. That there is still more to come. Oh yes…

You can book walking, snowshoeing tours with Jason and Vivien at daysawayadventures.com