Shared by Tourism North East Falls Creek. Photo / Martin Young
There’s nothing easy about a family ski trip, but it’s guaranteed to be a hoot, with countless magic memories made, writes Michelle Hespe.
“Pizzahhh! Pizzahhh! Reilly, Charlie! Don’t forget your pizzahhh!”
That’s me about nine years ago, skiing down Wombat’s Ramble in Falls Creek, Australia, with a 4-year-old Cooper wedged between my legs, screaming at Reilly and Charlie as they fly down the mountain, completely out of control. It’s a miracle they haven’t taken anyone out, and Cooper keeps closing his eyes and slipping out of my grip.
Any parent who’s taught a kid to ski knows this kind of pizza has nothing to do with pepperoni. It’s a classic beginner stance – skis pointed into a snow plough in the hope of slowing you down. Once you’ve nailed that, it’s on to sideslipping, and then parallel turns. But at the pizza stage, chaos is par for the course, and it’s not always easy to watch, let alone teach.
“Lean forward! Bend your knees or you’ll stack it, Reilly!”
Crashes are inevitable. Poles flail too close to faces, skis get tangled, tears flow, and someone, somewhere on the mountain is always shrieking: “Muuuum!!! HELP ME!”
The hardest part of teaching kids to ski? Staying calm while you’re also on skis and trying to pick up a wailing, helmeted child mid-slope without sending everyone else tumbling downhill in a tangled mess. You silently pray for soft landings, no trees in the way, and no broken bones.
Don’t forget, this comes after the massive chore of getting everyone squeezed into their tight boots that are not made for walking and then carting a bundle of skis and poles to the lifts.
“I can’t carry this!” is something most parents who pursue the skiing dream hear again and again. And sometimes (all right, plenty of times) you just give in and become a packhorse.
Teaching anyone to ski is exhausting, but when you can’t afford ski school for three on top of ski gear, lift passes, and mountain meals, something’s got to give.
So I abandoned all hope of enjoying the first few seasons and waited it out while my darling husband spent days snowboarding slowly and smoothly down his favourite runs. It’s close to impossible to teach kids how to ski while on a snowboard, and quite frankly, he doesn’t have the patience.
My reward? Eventually getting to sip a mulled wine while watching them carve their way down the slopes like seasoned pros. Now that they’re teens, they know Falls Creek like the back of their gloves, and disappear from the time the lifts start, right up to the last run.
After a few years of Falls Creek adventures, Charlie was up and cruising down the mountain – sideslipping, grinning, and sort-of in control. Until a fully grown adult in a hot-pink designer onesie barrels into her like a bowling ball.
The sound alone makes my stomach drop. There’s the tangle of limbs and skis, a scattering of toddlers still upright on skis (when your knees are below the tops of ski boots, it’s easier to stay standing), and a red-faced mother-duck instructor waving arms about and counting heads. I help Charlie up, check the massive scrapes across her helmet and thank the snow gods for good gear.
Reilly still talks about being strapped on to a stretcher after a particularly ungainly somersault had us fearing a broken ankle (thankfully, it wasn’t), while we’ve seen Cooper perform a scorpion (the dreaded backwards-over-head fall), plenty of faceplants and flying skis.
However, we’ve also seen each of our kids find their Falls Creek footing.
Charlie’s now a steady cruiser, Reilly carves down black runs better than I do, and Cooper loves skiing along beside his dad. I still help shove legs into tight boots while sweating it out, but the tears and falls are fewer, and the pizza has pepperoni on it.
Despite the drama and the expense, Falls Creek keeps pulling us back, and this year will be our 10th year as a family.
This European-style alpine village sits at 1600m and is a wonderland of snow gums and cosy chalets, with 15 lifts and nine ski runs. It’s usually snow-covered, car-free, and buzzing with the kind of energy only ski resorts have.
We’ve fallen into a rhythm over the past decade, and when I do have those magic moments near the top of Towers (my favourite run), gliding down a slope under a bluebird sky, I feel so lucky to be in the middle of Victorian High Country. It’s utterly, breathtakingly beautiful.
Post-ski rituals are a big part of any skiing experience, and over the years, we’ve found our favourites where we meet up and refuel.
Frying Pan Inn is a fun bar and grill dishing up woodfired food – think burgers, loaded fries and ribs with craft beers and local wines. You can sit inside and defrost, or in the beer garden where you can watch people barrelling down Broadway or the Village Run, moguls not deterring the brave.
The Last Hoot is our go-to for sharing pizzas and delicious garlic bread. It’s loud, warm, and popular with families. Plus, you can laugh at the newbie families trying to teach their kids how to ski on Wombat’s Ramble, reminiscing about the worst and best days.
Sorella at Elk at Falls is our treat spot for a special cocktail and a debrief by the open fire. The steaks are awesome and the wine list extensive, while the kids always make a mad dash for Snonuts Donuts. The Nutella donuts are so good and filling that they ruin any chance of a proper dinner, but that gives us more “us time”, so we let it slide.
Cloud 9 cafe, bar and restaurant is at the top of Halley’s Comet Quad Lift, where everyone gathers to decide on which runs to do for the day. It has the most superb views on the mountain – from the outdoor deck, you can look back down at Falls Creek village and out across the stunning Victorian High Country. Here we enjoy a craft beer or a mulled wine, and the woodfired pizzas, pastas and soups are delicious.
If you’re after a luxurious Falls Creek experience with fine food and wine, excellent service and a massive stone fireplace, Astra Falls Creek is right in the heart of the village and was voted Australia’s Best Ski Boutique Hotel for nine consecutive years.
Plus, downstairs, there’s a lantern-lit subterranean pool, sauna and spa where you can soothe your limbs while looking out at the snowy streets.
Skiing as a family isn’t for the faint-hearted. It’s expensive, messy and unpredictable, but it’s also unforgettable. Yep, we’ve had tantrums that shook the mountains, hours spent in the medical centre and days that nearly broke us, but we’ve also had days where you feel on top of the world, even when you’re flat on your back.
We’ve had snowball fights and shared meals while laughing at one another’s impressive stacks. And now I have this quiet, special kind of pride that comes from watching our kids fly down a mountain they once cried on.