‘Learning to ski has empowered me’: how one mum overcame her fear of the slopes in her 40s

. UK edition

After a difficult first trip with her children, Rachel Tompkins conquered her fears

For Rachel Tompkins, 46, learning to ski wasn’t just about conquering the slopes; it was about battling the ‘what-ifs’ of motherhood and rediscovering her own nerve

I was standing in my skis on a pristine white Swedish mountain, surrounded by brightly coloured figures darting confidently across the snow, when I realised I couldn’t move. It was my first day at the resort, and I’d just collected my ski equipment from the rental kiosk. I’d slipped on my skis, stepped out on to the mountain … and was immediately paralysed by fear.

It might have been the first time I’d wonder what on earth I was thinking learning to ski at the age of 42, but it wouldn’t be the last. Nevertheless, my fears haven’t held me back from the feeling of freedom and exhilaration I get from skiing time and time again.

I went on my first-ever ski trip in my 20s, and was much more interested in the après ski than actually learning how to get safely down a mountain. That time, I barely got past the basics, and after the holiday was over, skiing was shoved firmly out of my mind.

It was only when our sons Seb and Rory reached the ages of 10 and six that my husband announced he wanted to take them skiing. They were both sporty, so when a group of friends told us they were heading to the ski resort of Lindvallen in February 2023, we decided to join them.

I quickly discovered that the bravery I’d enjoyed in my 20s, when I’d happily go skydiving without a second thought, had left me. Having children casts your adventures in a new light. My thoughts kept drifting towards what might happen if I had an accident and couldn’t look after them – which is how I found myself standing on a gentle slope of snow, trying out my skis for size and unable to move.

Determined not to let terror confine me to the chalet for the rest of the week, I went ahead with the lessons we’d booked. I was in a group of adults being taught by a woman around my age, which was immediately reassuring.

We spent mornings learning the basics, and afternoons skiing on our own. The children, who also took lessons, picked it up instantly – they’d whiz past me, but I was happy to go at my own pace. My confidence was building and I was starting to enjoy myself when, on day three, I had my first accident. I was using a T-bar ski lift to get up a run, but at the point where I had to get off, some other skiers had fallen, creating a bottleneck. The people behind had to get off the T-bar early to avoid it – which is when I turned around and was hit in the face by their empty lift.

Having broken a front tooth and badly cut my lip, I was escorted down, my sons visibly upset to see me bleeding. My husband was a pillar of calm as he drove me to the hospital, but beneath the surface my own nerves were fraying. Determined not to let it defeat me, I returned the next day, only to fall and sever my thumb tendons. With my arm in a plaster cast, I finally had to concede. Watching my family head back out to the slopes while I sat sidelined, reading in a bar, was a disappointment, but I urged them to continue, comforted as they returned to check on me throughout the day.

Despite the drama of that first skiing holiday, the children had absolutely loved it. My husband was keen for us to go again and, although I was reluctant, I agreed to give it another go. It had been wonderful seeing the boys having such a blast, and I’d enjoyed it before my accidents.

I approached my next trip differently, using mental reframing techniques a therapist taught me to quiet the panic. When I stood on the slopes in Norway in February 2024, the terror had been replaced by a cautious but determined sense of focus.

I started beginners’ lessons again, and this time I stayed accident-free. Over the next week, my confidence grew, and by the end of the trip I was looking forward to the next one. We’ve been skiing twice more since then, and now a trip to Norway is part of our annual holiday plans. It’s lovely to have something to look forward to in February, which is otherwise quite dreary.

Now, each trip is less about “learning” and more about the rhythm of it. Skiing with our friends means there’s always someone to share a new slope or a post-ski cinnamon bun with, followed by evenings playing cards and sitting down to big dinners. The Norwegian landscape (stunning, with snow-dusted pines and crisp mountain air) is a wholesome antidote to daily life. It’s an active, satisfying pursuit where we end the day feeling truly accomplished.

I’m still conscious of the risks – you can get hurt anywhere, after all – but I’ve put them into perspective. Conquering fear in midlife is a rare, exhilarating achievement that has boosted my confidence in leaps and bounds. Learning to ski hasn’t made me fearless, but it has made me empowered, proving that age is never a barrier. Watching a man in his 70s take his first turn on the slopes on our last trip was the ultimate reminder of that. Whether you’re learning to ski or trying something entirely new, the physical and mental challenge is a powerful way to feel reinvigorated. Don’t let age hold you back; just go for it.

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