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Skiing festival: Campervan to the Alps - Cable.co.uk

Cable.co.uk

Skiing festival: Campervan to the Alps - Cable.co.uk Alps." I typed in the words and pressed the search button."No. You will die," said the first link I opened. The advice on the Snowheads message board, an online forum for skiers, stopped me in my tracks. Some users of the site offered advice on portable heaters, van upgrades and suitable campsites; one wisecracker simply suggested she should upgrade the boyfriend rather than the van. It was a good point.With 1.5 million Britons skiing each year it is no longer an elitist sport – but there are fears it can go back to being one. As the pound reaches record lows against the euro and falls sharply against the US and Canadian dollars and the Swiss franc, resorts are in danger of pricing many people out. Tour operators privately admit that were it not for the recent heavy snow this season might have been a disaster. The customary cost-cutting advice no longer holds. Self-catering, once a byword for holiday frugality, is becoming prohibitively expensive for Britons as supermarkets raise prices. Earlier this month, we reported in Telegraph Travel that a small jar of pesto sauce was selling for £5 in Val d'Isère and a bottle of digestible wine for £14. Over in Courchevel, a beer on the slopes can now cost £12 and a hot dog, £15.Once considered a luxury, catered chalets and full-board hotels (where prices are fixed) now make more financial sense. Low-cost airlines profess to be the answer for credit-crunch skiers, yet they continue to penalise those who carry luggage or ski equipment (checking in a bag and taking your skis on Ryanair now costs £100 for a return flight). Resort transfers are increasingly expensive, and while the Eurostar snow train may be convenient for France's leading resorts, at a minimum of £189 return the fares are steep. Its affable owner, Nick Roach, assured me that winter camping was not just the preserve of dope-smoking students and ski bums but the answer for those with a limited budget and a limitless desire to ski in Europe's best resorts. He added that forward bookings had risen by as much as 300 per cent this season."Beyond the money you save, these vans offer a freedom that other ski holidays can't," he said. I had plenty of time to mull it over.I had persuaded three friends to accompany me. Slapping on as many layers as an air stewardess' make-up, we were ready, excited even – a band of brothers summoning the spirit of Shackleton, Scott, Hillary and Amundsen in our vehicle, the aptly named Explorer. Our high spirits lasted all of 10 minutes – until we encountered an almighty tailback on the M1 south of Luton. Six hours later, we rolled into Dover, slightly punch-drunk as the true scale of the journey hit us. Sleep proved elusive on the ferry to Calais and our mood darkened when we returned to find a party of schoolchildren sniggering at our purple machine as they boarded their coach bound for Brittany. We knew what French exchange trips were like.Leaving Calais behind, we began our real journey, using cities as milestones and trying not to think about the overall distance. In shifts of four hours (with those in the passenger seats warding off the driver's drooping eyelids), we began to eat up the road. The 2.4-litre Ford engine was surprisingly good, although our top-heaviness made for some alarming sideways movement when the wind picked up or when we passed a lorry. Arras, Reims and Strasbourg passed in a blur of coffee, croissants, tolls and terrible French music. By the time we reached Switzerland it was the early morning graveyard shift. The minutes seemed to slow, the miles lengthened; lattes became espressos and then doubles.But as sun began to rise over snow-laden fields we finally crossed into Austria and the anticipation of thigh-deep turns through virgin powder was enough to see us through. The road leading to St Anton lacks the dramatic climbs of the high French Alps but, being at the wheel of a 23ft-long campervan, I was thankful.We came to a halt in a car park on the main road out of town. As snowflakes began to fall, our purple-spotted machine was covered in a welcome wintry coat.With superb off-piste skiing, challenging steeps, mogul fields and an improved ski lift system, St Anton is one of the best resorts for experienced skiers. Val d'Isère, Jackson Hole, Whistler and Verbier may vie for the title of the world's finest ski resort, but St Anton is peerless in the après-ski stakes.The action centres on the meadow above the resort, where the Mooserwirt bar lies. As the season gets into full swing, hundreds gather outside until the DJ begins. Every day it's the same routine: at 4pm the shutters drop, the music goes up and the schnapps-loving Austrians join visitors in a boisterous roar as the strains of Europe's "Final Countdown" begin. Inside it has a nightclub feel as benches strain under the weight of skiers dancing in ski boots and slurping from pints of beer. But if you tire of the Eurotrash music, the Krazy Kangaroo – an equally rowdy alternative – lies a short hop away. We delayed our own countdown – to return to the van – for as long as possible. After negotiating the nursery slope run with a bellyful of strong continental lager in near darkness (probably not the wisest move), we headed into town. Therein lies the problem – with nowhere to return for après-ski, we had little choice but to spend more euros in shops, cafés and bars. Outside, the Arctic front that had brought so much December snow across the Alps saw overnight temperatures fall as low as -17C. My sleeping bag kept me warm enough, but when I woke I was alarmed to see my breath rise and fall above me. I peered down: Ryan, in his poor excuse for a sleeping bag, was shivering like a newborn lamb. I ignored his and the others' pleadings. We only had ourselves to blame for the cold. But as we tried to negotiate our way around the small cabin to turn on the heating, shower and change, it became a little claustrophobic. Talk of mutiny was assuaged when an adequate supply of hot water and a remarkably effective heating system improved things dramatically. Boot warmers and towels from the supermarket also solved the worst of the underfoot moisture. We gradually devised a "two up, two down" system – two people standing, two people sitting at any time – and it worked.Saving our pennies with breakfast in the van and packed lunches for the slopes, we splashed on evening meals to ward off the cabin fever. Only the smell, in what we had now dubbed "the pungent purple pig", still rankled.Just Go claims that, at a stretch, these vans can hold up to seven people, but even for the pygmy tribes of central Africa it will be some stretch. The price, however, is impressive – £64 per person, per week, or £71 including the cheapest return ferry crossing. Add fuel (£60) and tolls (£10) and the total is £141 – cheap by anyone's standards. For those who demand a little more privacy – I will say four people is the maximum – the price rises by another £94 to around £235 per person. Searching online, I found week-long breaks in self-catering apartments in Bulgaria and Finland for around the same price (transfers excluded), while another £110 will have bought a last-minute break in a half-board hotel in Arinsal, Andorra (including flights). But these can hardly compare to St Anton.Two thirds of Britons say they have no intention of giving up their holidays, recession or not. But with no sign of the pound regaining strength against the euro, something has to give. Quality of skiing or comfort and convenience? Whatever your priorities, the key is not to let cost-cutting measures cloud your judgement.Before you dismiss the campervan idea, there is an answer to the obvious misgivings. Just a couple of miles down the road in Pettneu lies Camping Arlberg (www.camping-arlberg.at). It is on the ski-bus route and each pitch (from seven euros a night) comes with a separate heated bathroom (think four-star hotel standard), a drying room for wet clothes and a constant supply of electricity. As others spring up in Verbier and Méribel, this really can be the future for hard-pressed families, particularly in the warmer weeks of Easter.For some, the main barrier may still be pride. On our final night we realised that news travels fast in this small Austrian town. A couple of self-satisfied British chalet boys, leaning against the bar in their Jack Wills hoodies and bedhead hair, offered patronising sympathy for the four guys staying in that "ghastly campervan". I smiled and thought about all the chalet lavatories that Tarquin and Sebastian here will be cleaning while we hit the slopes.Aside from cost, the great advantage of these campervans is the freedom they offer. With news of fresh snow falling in nearby Lech, we planned an early start the next day for a morning of knee-deep powder. A three-inch layer of ice underneath our van (which took two hours to dislodge) scuppered our plans – but that's not the point. Instead, we began the long journey home. We explained that we were on our way back from a camping break in St Anton and had got lost."St Anton? You must be joking, no?" said the officer.By the time they had ransacked our van before grudgingly sending us on our way for nine more hours at the wheel, I had begun to wish we had been. But offer me some sun-kissed Easter skiing with the Purple Pig in Pettneu and it will be a different story. Book a chalet/chalet-hotel rather than a self-catering apartment. If you drive and self-cater, shop first in the valley. Have big breakfasts and ski through lunch. Hoteliers often turn a blind eye to making sandwiches at breakfast. Buy essential extras (lift pass, equipment rental, tuition) in advance. 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