There's only so much time that a sane person can spend maintaining a boat in the depths of winter. Even the Sailing Fanatic has found that the delights of scraping, sanding and fixing toilets begin to pall after a while. He has taken a break to recover his enthusiasm.

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Great, you might think. But wait! For when the Sailing Fanatic stops obsessing about boats, a strange transformation occurs: just as Clark Kent sheds his business suit to reveal? Ta Ra! ? Superman, so the Sailing Fanatic clambers out of his oilies and sailing boots to reveal? Ta Ra! ? the Skiing Fanatic, complete with orange goggles and a fetching bobble hat.

.It is an awesome sight, believe me!

.Likewise, I also undergo a transformation, changing instantly from Reluctant Sailor to equally Reluctant Skier.

With a few dry-ski-slope lessons and one week's proper skiing under my belt, I am still at the 'Why do I want to risk life and limb to get cold, tired and hungry, throwing myself off a mountain' stage.

.Compare this with the Skiing Fanatic, who likes nothing better than to travel up to the steepest part of the steepest run, point his skis down the hill and go ? followed by two tiny fellow fanatics, who zip happily behind in the blind belief that Daddy will never lead them into harm's way.

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The four of us hit the slopes mid-January, at a small child-friendly resort in the French Alps, known as Les Gets. It is geared up for skiers of all abilities, and a quick trip over the mountain leads you into the massive linked ski area that forms the Portes du Soleil.

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The Skiing Fanatic was in his element. The kids were having a whale of a time. And I ? had some more skiing lessons.

.'Forget red and black runs,' I told Tim, my ski instructor. 'I just want to be able to ski down a blue run without being terrified.

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.And, a few hours later, much to my surprise, I could!

.It started to snow halfway through the holiday: powder snow, lying thickly pristine on the pisted slopes until we swished our way, one after another, through it. We tackled a long sweeping run, lined with pine trees, swooping and spraying our way downhill, before stopping for hot chocolate at a café halfway down the mountain.

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The sun broke through the clouds as we sat there, enjoying the spectacular alpine scenery. It was beautiful. It was fun.

I was enjoying it.

.The Skiing Fanatic laughed.

.'If you think this is good, just wait until you've been cruising up the West Coast on a summer's day,' he said.

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There was a familiar gleam in his eye. The Sailing Fanatic was back, twinkling at me from underneath a bright red bobble hat.

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She contributes to the web site at http://www.sea-dreamer.com. The Sea Dreamer web site has articles, guides and news on sailing and cruising on the West Coast of Scotland.

By: Helen MacKenzie