Buon appetito!

I’m sure it’s possible to find food that is below par in an Italian ski resort, but I don’t know which one. Every time I ski there, I’m served the most deliciously simple fare, and it leaves a lasting impression.

Our destination is Champoluc, an hour or two’s drive north of Turin. The road zigzags up the side of the Aosta valley where Champoluc sits at the north-western end of Italy’s answer to Les Trois Vallées – Monterosa Ski (the other two linked resorts are Gressoney and Alagna).

Monterosa panorama

We’re staying at the Breithorn, an old and grand chalet-style building with creaky wooden floors and giant fireplaces throughout. Family company Ski Total has taken over the building for the season, and the meals follow their Europe-wide menu. It would be hard to beat their breakfast of cereals, fruit, pastires, cold cuts and hot options. Great for setting you up for a morning on the slopes.

Our hotel has rusty charm

We’re most fortunate with the weather, not to mention our guide Simone, who turns out to be the world’s fastest man on skis. He's keeping his need for speed in check today, though. I can't do piste-bashing without a mid-morning hot beverage to look forward to. 

Down to Gressoney

The fastest man on skis

Which brings us to elevenses. None of that watery brew here. The cup is filled with real melted chocolate, then filled to the brim with whipped cream. 

Hot choc heaven

Lunch is accorded just as much attention to detail. There's one very long and spectacularly delicious one at Le Rascard Frantze, in a tiny hamlet above Champoluc. There's no road to the place so we ski in… then ski out a few hours later. 

Scenes of the resort's farming past

A family owned place, the mouthwatering menu is happily tweaked for the vegetarian. There are guest bedrooms upstairs and the building's old farming details have been lovingly preserved, from the stone mushrooms to keep the vermin away from the grain, to the old bread oven with its handy wooden rack – again, to keep the animals off the loaves.

Rat catchers

Old bread oven

Bread rack turned glove stash

Another day we lunch at what must be Italy's only alpine restaurant with a Tibetan menu, at Campo Base, where the prayer flags flutter in the breeze. It's a slow ski down after that one. 

Taste of Tibet

Half way down I spot a piste sign that reminds me of Scotland – just the thing for my Happy Robert Burns Day messages. 

Ode to a moos

Auld Lang Syne

I try not to miss out on Hogmanay in the Highlands. The weather forecast is usually anyone’s guess but I always manage to fit in a few of my favourite places. And though it’s more than 30 years since I lived anywhere but London, it still feels like I’m going home.

This year we arrive on 31 December on the direct train from London, arriving into Aviemore at 19:27. We find there’s been a bit of a mix up with the new ‘zero tolerance’ drink-driving laws, and my siblings are already over the limit. Our family house is in the middle of nowhere, which is how we end up celebrating the bells in a bird hide on the edge of our loch. Appropriately enough, it’s a hoot. We move on to first-foot the neighbours and stagger home at 4am.

Dawn chorus

The new-year holiday improves day-by-day as we visit old haunts, high and low. Loch Vaa is our next nearest loch, a secret place enclosed by trees. It’s often frozen in winter, and we’ll tramp through the snow with our ice skates to do a few circuits and enjoy the childish delight of being able to skate in and out of the boathouse. There’s no ice this time, so our circuit is on foot.

Loch Vaa by the boathouse

Craigellachie is a hill that is a constant presence in Aviemore, looming right over the village and rewarding a quick but steep climb with superb views over the valley. It’s blowing a hoolie when we climb it on New Year’s Day.

On top of Craigellachie

Wind angel on Craigellachie

Meall a’ Bhuachaille is a mountain I grew up knowing very well. We kids built shelters in the forest at its fringes. We knew all the footpaths, firebreaks and lookout towers. It’s another one of those quick, steep climbs, and there’s light snow underfoot the day my sister and I take it on. Sometimes the view makes you feel like God looking down from the heavens, deeply happy with how beautifully it has all worked out.

On top of Meall a’ Bhuachaille

Worth every step

Even the views on a flattish stroll the three miles from Aviemore back to the house can prove spectacular in the right light, across the lush green of the golf course to the snow-covered Cairngorms. The Highlands never disappoint.

Course of nature