In at the deep (powder) end

Wizard Chairlift, Blackcomb, 9am. Driven snow is rattling off our helmets. Below us, the slope is almost pristine, just a few tracks carved in what looks like six inches of fresh powder. Above, the row of pylons disappears into a veil of cloud. As we gain altitude, the wind begins to howl around the chairlift cables. Goggles on, helmets and gloves strapped tight.

"You know," Marianne says, "it's almost as if we never left."

Wind back 24 hours. Southampton to Whistler is, typically, an eighteen hour trip. National Express, British Airways and the excellent Whistler Shuttle service did an admirable job of getting us here with minimal stress. And thank you BA for your generous drinks service. Nothing like a quadruple vodka at nine miles a minute to get you in the holiday mood...

In fact the only stress of the entire trip came at our front door, which initially refused to open when presented with the code we'd been given. It relented in the end. We fell into bed at midnight - 8am in the UK - and awoke early with the first-day tingle that makes it all worthwhile. Caffeine-laced excitement with a tiny spike of fear.

Day one is normally warm-up day. Find your ski legs, ease yourself in, be mindful of the jetlag.

But today, Whistler had other ideas. Heavy snow, visibility mixed, up to a foot of fresh powder even on runs that are normally groomed... a baptism of fire, in other words. After two hours we were still - miraculously - on our feet, and had reduced the windmill arms to a minimum.

Skiing like this is hard work, and though the hearts are willing, the flesh is weak. Our stamina will improve in the coming days, as we shed the jetlag and toughen up. But by mid afternoon, we reluctantly called time on our first day. What a start. I can't decide what aches more - my legs, or my face.

It's good to be back...

Marianne celebrates the start of Odyssey 2012. Jersey Cream, Blackcomb, 9 March 2012

Day one. Finding our ski legs in tricky conditions. Jersey Cream, Blackcomb, 9 March 2012