I’d never snowboarded nor watched anyone snowboard before, so I went in as blind and stupid as I was keen. The hire shop and Chattrix ski lift were a 10-minute walk from the cabin, so before I knew it Ryan was teaching me to mount a ski lift while I simultaneously attempted to mount the ski lift. This sounds okay, but given that I’d never touched a snowboard or a ski lift – which doesn’t stop and wait for you to get on – was bemusing to the seasoned skiiers watching the childishly excited and unmistakeably English novice.

Once mounted, the ski lift was amazing. As we rose higher, more and more mountains emerged, their jagged outlines crisp against the clear blue horizon. Mont Blanc dominated the skyline behind us and the ski runs below seemed very small, snaking around swathes of dark pine forest. It was smooth, still and deafeningly silent – the calm before the storm.

The storm refers to my mood when I realised that snowboarding is a skill that must be learnt, rather than picked up instantly once on a slope. Ryan was very patient with me, despite my attempts to whiz down nose-first like the snowboarders flying past us, and I spent the first half hour alternately on my back and my knees and constantly in a foul mood. It didn’t help that the whole learning process was done on an intermediate (blue) run and an intermediate board, with a heavy-ish rucksack on, but excuses aside it was more difficult that I’d anticipated.

Eventually I listened to instructions and concentrated on moving down the slope at a shallow angle, moving from one side to the other in a slow, controlled banana curve and always keeping the upper edge of the board in contact with the snow. I learnt that I could do this facing both uphill and downhill, but came to prefer facing downhill. Once I started to get the knack I loved the rush of gaining speed and controlling the board round the corners and away from the edges, but I never stopped getting overzealous and falling over.

Once we’d completed the first run we jumped onto the Croix du Christ lift, which took us up to another blue run. At the top I was absorbed by the panoramic view and I felt the pull of every mountain, vast, mysterious and incomprehensibly enticing. This run had a long, gently sloping section which – despite the steep, unprotected drop on one side – allowed me to cruise along nose-first and appreciate that regardless of ability, I was so happy to just exist in such a breath-taking place.

The run got steeper, I fell off a bit more, and we ended up back at the start. We were peckish and the only way back to the village was up an innocuous-sounding button lift, which turned out to be categorically un-innocuous. Having barely been on a snowboard a couple of hours, once I got the silly little seat between my legs I just couldn’t stay in a straight line up the steep slope. It moves quickly, doesn’t stop to wait for you to get into position, barely takes any of your weight and has nothing to help you balance; I must have fallen off ten times before deciding that I didn’t want to hold the other skiiers (there were very few snowboarders using it, as it’s notoriously un-snowboard friendly) up, so we faced a hike back up the first blue run. I was furious gnome.

This was long, tough and blister-inducing in stiff snowboarding boots, but quite satisfying once we were back at the top of the Chattrix lift. We went down the blue run that took us back to the village, which had some really nice, flowing sections and long, steep (for a beginner) runs.

We got to the bottom and demolished a huge panini and a bottle of cider, which tasted delicious after that rollercoaster morning. Sitting still, the cold quickly reminded us that it was January in the Alps, so we didn’t hang around before hopping (lolloping, in my case) back on the Chattrix ski lift.

We spent the rest of the afternoon going round the blue Chattrix run. My relationship with snowboarding fluctuated from love to hate and back again several times, with no middle ground, as I alternately got and lost the hang of it. I didn’t realise that so much falling was involved. Ryan was irritatingly good. Even his patience with me became annoying, as I felt like I held him back a bit. Overall I loved the speed and the thrill of taking the board right to the edge of the run, then smoothly (on occasion) pulling away from the steep drops just in time. I was sold.

When we finally decided the day was done, we walked (hobbled), grinning, back to the chalet and spent the evening cooking, drinking cheap wine mixed with syrup and chatting excitedly about snowboarding and the Alps and mountains and who knows what else. We were on a high, giddy from the adrenaline of snowboarding and the anticipation of getting back on the slopes the next day. That night the stars filled the clear black sky like I’ve never seen before, and nothing else mattered.