The right answer is "not yet".
It may mean earlier nights but the slopes are still great fun.
I would suggest that skiers over 60 can be divided into two tribes - those who see themselves as "older skiers" and those who are simply in denial about their age. You can tell "older skiers" because skiing provides them with unlimited opportunities to complain. Their feet hurt (blame the boots), they have bad knees, they cannot see anything (blame the goggles), the lift queues are too long, there is too much/not enough/the wrong snow.
Those in denial, on the other hand, see that skiing provides them with almost unlimited opportunities to spend money. They have new boots (so their feet will not hurt), new skis (to save the knees), new goggles and sunglasses (to look cool), a new ski outfit (to pretend they look as young as the yummy mummies in the lift queues), new snow boots (just in case it snows in the village).
I started skiing at the age of 11 and I'm now well above 60. My first boots had laces; my skis had screw-in edges and ski straps; my poles had leather strap baskets. A lot has changed since then - thankfully.
Our skiing abilities range from middling (ladies) to superb (men).
Don't give up skiing because you can't go so fast anymore. I ski for the ambience. The mountain air. To step out of a cable car and see the view. To be part of the excited throng as they tighten up their boots at the top. To feel the movement as you take your first turn.
The Dolomites may not be the highest mountains in Europe, but they are among the most spectacular: massive 3,000m limestone towers thrust up into the blue Italian sky. On a clear day, you can see as far as the Adriatic from the summit of the Marmolada which the boys did on the second day in glorious sunshine.
The Dolomites are also historic, these jagged towering Dolomite peaks were reefs underwater 250,000 million years ago. Now they soar 2,000-3,000 meters above sea level. The Dolomites were named an official UNESCO World Natural Heritage Site in 2009. The history of skiing in the Dolomites spans over a century, including the first man to ski the Sellaronda in 1912, and the first race from the summit of Marmolada in 1935, the first Italian Winter Olympics in Cortina in 1956, to the joining of the individual ski areas in 1974 to create the Dolomiti Super Ski region all on one interchangeable lift ticket. The name Dolomite comes from the 1789 discovery of geologist Dolomieu, who declared the special dolomite rock.
Selva sits at the head of the Val Gardena Valley, arguably the best gateway to the Sella Ronda circuit. It's a town surrounded by beautiful limestone peaks and seriously good skiing. To say the area is beautiful is an understatement. You are completely surrounded by limestone eroded from its full height into craggy peaks, cliffs and monoliths tinged pink at both dawn and dusk.
There are more pistes than you could possibly cover in a month let along a week. If you're a decent skier getting all the way to Lagazuoi and the Hidden Valley is well worth the effort. The boys on Friday were treated to some 'holy-moly-that's incredible' views followed by a gloriously long red run through sheer cliffs and frozen waterfalls to the waiting horse and cart at the bottom to drag them back to the main ski area.
A quick but important point. Over 90% of the pistes are covered by artificial snow cannons. That means that even when the snow is scarce, the pistes will be perfect and you'll be able to ski pretty much the entire 433 km. This doesn't cover off-piste and this is the one downfall to the area, off-piste isn't great and even banned in many parts. But you won't miss it.
The boys join the Ski Safari every day but Pauline and I join a ski class and meet a new group of pals - younger than us, of course. A week of lessons in a small group helps focus the mind on improving skills. However, the first morning of lessons usually fills us with horror. There's that awful moment when you have to ski with everyone watching. The tension makes me hunch my shoulders up to my ears, and instead of feeling like a carefree powderhound, my mind races and I become almost rigid. Still with the carrot- skiing perfection - dangling in front of me, I'm ready to embrace every word this week.
By the time we've analysed every part of a turn and focused on adjusting our balance when initiating and finishing a turn, I'm acutely aware that I have a weaker turn direction. The problem is that I'm blocking the turn by not turning my hip. As soon as I start doing that, my turns even out and the rhythm flows. But then, as I struggle to remember everything I've been told, the flow goes again - a classic case of over thinking. So, to help me stop focusing on mechanical skills and become more intuitive I just follow the red jacket. Immediately, the slope seems irrelevant, whether it's steep or a perfect cruiser because I am focused on following. As I follow Rudi, short quick turns are not a problem, and long tilting carving turns come naturally. I am in the Zone.
So now the key is doing this on my own. I find myself thinking "It's time for lunch with Rosie".
Obviously, the downhill bit is the most important part of any skiing holiday but pretty close behind in the ladies' book is lunching. There are few greater pleasures than kicking back for a long and tasty lunch after a hard morning of skiing, safe in the knowledge that you've definitely earned it with all that pre-lunch activity. Fortifying the inner skier against the cold is an essential part of any day in the mountains and nobody does it better than the Italians. From high noon onwards, enticing scents of homemade pasta and pizza cooked on primitive wood-fired stoves waft across the piste, cutting short the skiing day in the kindest possible way.
We always enjoy lunch at Pizzeria L Ciamin. Bit of a walk from our hotel but amazing ambiance, great food and friendly staff.
After lunch we wander from shop to shop. The woodcarvings are beautiful. They date from the 17th century when poor farmers began to spend their winter evenings fashioning sculptures from wood. By 1820 there were 300 carvers in the area, and in the last 19th century the valley became the home of a woodcarving school. But mostly the skills of the craft are passed from father to son.
Unfortunately, midweek I had a subconjunctival haemorrhage in my left eye and had to visit the local Doctor and then the hospital at Bolzano, a 110 Euros taxi ride away, but everyone was so kind and the next day I was skiing again with Pauline but we did take it easy especially as it was snowing and the conditions were difficult.
Beautiful wood carvings too.
So no excuses for not skiing and yes I did buy a new ski outfit and new snow boots this season!!!!
Though I love languishing on a beach in hot weather, there's something special about the season and indulging in some fresh mountain air (and the odd Hugo). Cheers!!!
Another fantastic week in Selva staying at the Hotel Continental with wonderful friends.
