Learning cross-country skiing: real challenge or child’s play?

9:00 a.m. sharp. Champex-Lac slowly awakens beneath a delicate layer of fresh snow, and I am about to discover a sport I mistakenly believed I already had more or less under control. First essential step: getting equipped. Off to Look Sport, just a stone’s throw from the lake. Inside, warmth, smiles and efficiency. The shop assistant is as friendly as he is knowledgeable: boots, skis, poles — everything I need, along with a few basic explanations and reassuring tips. At this point, I’m still confident. After all, I have years of alpine skiing and ski touring behind me. Spoiler alert: that confidence won’t last long.

A few minutes later, I arrive at the Revers car park, only a few metres from the start of the cross-country ski trails. This is where I meet Eole, my instructor for the day. Smiling, calm and completely at ease in this white landscape, she explains the basics before the big leap — or rather, the first steps. With her help, I clip my boots into the skis, slip my hands into the pole straps and off I go. We’ve chosen the classic technique, where the skis follow tracks set by a grooming machine — ideal for beginners. Skating, faster and more cardio-intensive, will have to wait. The first few metres take us through a stunning snow-covered forest, already bathed in sunlight. It’s peaceful, almost magical… until my first turn. And my first fall. General laughter ensues. Cross-country skis, narrower and thicker than the ones I’m used to, very quickly remind me that humility is an essential quality.

We get back up, and the learning continues. Surrounded by fir trees laden with snow, the exercises follow one another: finding balance on flat terrain, pushing when the slope allows it, learning how to brake on descents by stepping one ski out of the track and using its edge in a Nordic version of the snowplough. The laps pile up (as do the falls), but little by little my movement becomes more fluid. I’m still far from Eole’s natural grace, of course, but I’m beginning to feel that famous glide. We’re lucky to be almost alone on the trail, immersed in a silent, sparkling natural setting, as if time itself had paused.

Around 11:00 a.m., the scenery changes: we move on to the loop around the frozen lake, fully bathed in sunshine and already buzzing with life. To get there, a small slope awaits; Eole advises me to descend it using small sideways steps. Valuable advice. Once on the lake, it’s time for some technical drills: skiing laps without poles to focus solely on leg work, then the opposite — using only the poles, without the legs. A few more falls later (I’ve stopped counting), we set off for a full lap of the lake. Around us, experienced cross-country skiers glide past with speed and elegance. Everyone we meet is remarkably friendly and supportive, and I truly enjoy sharing this warm, welcoming spirit that seems so intrinsic to cross-country skiing.

Around noon, my technique is — let’s say — almost flawless. It’s time to say goodbye to Eole, unclip my skis and boots, and make room for lunch. I leave with a huge smile: the joy of having discovered an activity that is as playful as it is athletic, combining breathtaking panoramas, good vibes and a unique sense of glide. After three hours of initiation and a very respectable total of seven falls, I almost feel ready to compete in the Cross-Country Skiing World Championships in Goms… almost. A huge thank-you to Eole for her patience, kindness and expertise. Taking a lesson truly makes all the difference: instructors know how to reassure, listen and teach solid foundations — always with a smile. My only question at the end of the day: when do we do it again?

Source: Stéphanie Imobersteg, Content Manager at Valais/Wallis Promotion

Publication: January 2026