The Verbier ride of your life

Skiing has changed. In the 16 seasons since I last strapped two skis to my feet, the industry has experienced a piste revolution.

The iron grip of the old guard has been challenged by the new school and now the maverick freeriders rule the mountain. Their influence is visible from the Snow + Rock fashion gear to the jargon (Big Ass Toxic, anyone?) and ? most obviously ? the carving skis.

Taking their narrow-waisted shape from snowboards, these are designed to cut into the mountain, allowing you to turn with a shift of your body weight.

Powder-hound Warren Smith, a native of the wild peaks of Hemel Hempstead, was one of those who witnessed the adventuring spirit of the snowboarder and realised it could be done at twice the speed on skis.

Today, the freeride revolution is out of the underground and Warren, 28, spends his winters spreading the gospel through his Verbier Ski Academy, not to mention his baby, the Verbier Ride.

Sticking my big toe back into skiing waters last winter, I encountered Warren in Verbier. He was determined I would take part in the Third Verbier Ride, taking place the next day. The question was, why? This annual two-day Alpine fest pits amateur against professional in pursuits ranging from the inadvisable to the insane.

It begins with the Skiercross ? a kind of demolition derby ? in which competitors tear around a circuit of high-banking turns and jumps. There follow more expert turns: the Big Air, an Eddie-the-Eagle-on-acid event, requiring flips and multiple somersaults off a 30ft-high snow-meringue; and the Extreme Section, an opportunity to hurtle down a sheer rock face judged on style and courage.

?It?s just like sex,? Warren said. ?You don?t forget.? The man had obviously shared neither a mountain nor a bed with me. With the patience of the Dalai Lama, he set about instilling some fundamentals. The freeride ethos, it transpired, is organic. No longer are you asked to adopt improbable stances and rigid movements. He encouraged me to feel the mountain, to find a fluidity of movement and to ?have fun?. Soon we were heading off the groomed path into deeper powder through (and into) trees. I?m sure it wasn?t pretty but it was certainly fun.

So it was that, at 10am the next day, I stood with a bib proclaiming me number 85 at the starting line of the Skiercross. The alcohol responsible for my courage had already evaporated in the thin Alpine air. Surrounded by around 100 fellow competitors ? freshfaced Brits and leather-clad Scandahooligans ? the atmosphere was more Gladiator than Sound of Music. With drum ?n? bass pumping from speakers, I had the presence of mind to borrow a helmet as the countdown began.

I started the Skiercross with three competitors and I crossed the finish line with three competitors. Unfortunately the three I crossed the line with started 10 minutes after me. I fell three times. The second was the best. After negotiating two tiny jumps, I found myself hurtling up a ramp to a deep blue horizon, only to discover I had taken flight. With nothing beneath my skis and a strange whistling in my ears, my stomach took refuge in my ankles. Remembering something Warren had told me about landing, I settled back on solid snow, upright and still conscious.

Too busy being impressed with myself, I didn?t see the next bend coming. Suddenly there was a mountain in front of me and I?d no idea where the brakes were. I entered the bank at 50mph, describing a me-shaped hole fourfoot deep. I emerged to slow applause from the chairlifts above.

Shakily recovering, I sat on Mount Gele, with a consolatory Heineken from the Verbier Ride bar, watching the professionals descend the Extreme Section on a murderous 3,023-metre rockface. Atop 15-metre drops, competitors gave little waves before executing front flips and helicopter jumps to the next ledge.

Sitting beside me was Francine Moreillon (Sophie Marceau?s skidouble from the Bond movie). She was recovering from a back broken while attempting a 220-metre jump one foggy day. And yet I didn?t have to ask ?why? any more. The thrill is obvious and utterly addictive. The humiliation and the trophy bruises seem all part of the ride.

I still fall. And I?ve never had so much fun with my salopettes on.

The Fourth Verbier Ride and Winter Festival takes place in February. Further details at www.verbierride.com

Way to go

Dudi Appleton travelled to Verbier with the Ski Club of Great Britain (0845 458 0780). Seven nights from £450pp, including half-board at the Vertical Reality chalet and flights. For further information about the Verbier Ride, call Warren Smith (00 41 79 359 6566; www. warrensmithskiacademy.com).

Destination guide: Switzerland