Our ski instructor has the unusual knack of making failure sound appealing.
Oscar Johnston stands a few metres downhill with his arms open wide.
“No need to worry! I’m right here,” he calls up the beginner’s slope to me and my nervous nine-year-old. “The worst that could happen is you’d give me a big hug.”
It’s our first time on a snowy mountain slope but that reassurance is all that’s needed to entice young Nate to turn his skis and start sliding.
He doesn’t get a hug. He carefully follows Oscar’s instructions to angle the tips of his skis towards each other and push his heels out to make a pizza slice shape. He glides to a perfectly…