Travel: Chamonix, France

ART of the pleasure of life in a ski resort is its simplicity, writes Jonathan Trigell in his novel Cham, which offers a vivid depiction of the paradise that is Chamonix.

"If you have a day off, you go skiing," continues Trigell. "If you want to meet friends – you go skiing. Any time you are not involved in anything else – you go skiing. There is never any need for deliberation."

Which is true of all ski towns, and especially the winter sports Mecca wedged deep in the Chamonix Valley, surrounded by towering peaks and glaciers, and dominated by Mont Blanc. But it is only partially true. As well as the mountains, with their majestic views of the Alps, I was drawn to the town by another attraction: a small classroom in Chamonix centre.

When it was put to me that I might like to "enjoy" a sports holiday with a twist – a week of outdoor pursuits combined with an intensive French course – I reacted as though the suggestion had been made in said foreign language. That is, with bafflement and incomprehension. At school, my French teacher suggested during a parents' evening that my Peugeot bicycle would stand a better chance of passing the forthcoming exam. It was true. French was all foreign to me.

Yet in more recent years I came to regret my teenage determination to conform to national stereotypes (according to recent research commissioned by Wikipedia, British people have the worst foreign language skills in the world). And so, two years ago, I began French classes. But progress was painfully slow, the chink of encouraging light so faint that it resembled the view of Italy from the Chamonix end of the Mont Blanc tunnel, seven miles away.

I had to step it up. And so, a friend suggested I try combining some intensive learning with something I actually enjoyed – skiing or, since it was autumn when I visited, mountain biking. She knew of a school that offered just such a possibility – the Insted Language School in Chamonix. Voila!

It is one thing having a weekly lesson, another to be considering total immersion. And I felt as apprehensive as a novice skier contemplating Chamonix's most famous and formidable run, the Valle Blanche.

I had arrived the night before, with the town shrouded in a darkness made even more complete by the steep walls of the valley. In winter, on a clear night, Chamonix can be bathed in luminescent moonlight reflected by the snow-covered mountains; at other times, there is only one source of light at night: the Glacier des Bossons, extending towards the town like an enormous white tongue. Coupled with the relative quietness of the town out of season, the place seemed slightly eerie.

That impression was enhanced the morning, when I opened the curtains of my small apartment – one of several owned by Insted and included in the language school's package – to the non-view of a mist-filled valley. Yet by mid-morning the final clouds had peeled off the mountains to reveal a perfect blue sky and a blazing, if freezing cold, sun, making for a perfect day for a bit of afternoon mountain biking.

But first, school.

That thought, as I walked the five minutes to the classroom, brought with it a sense of dread that I sought to mitigate by arriving early. As it was, I arrived 15 minutes late. Zut alors!

I entered the room and ten faces looked back. The teacher, a swarthy Frenchman with what I took to be an intimidatingly serious demeanour, pointed to an empty seat; I made for it and sat down as he addressed me. "Par-don?" I responded.

An elderly man to my right leaned in and whispered helpfully: "Tell us about yourself." And then – after an introduction that didn't progress much beyond "Je m'appelle" and "J'habite" – we were off. "Tell us about yourself" was the last English I heard for the next three hours; and for three hours a day thereafter.

I'll be honest: the first lesson was awful. I spent most of it convinced that everyone knew what was going on apart from me, and contemplated the longest week of my life, not even salvaged by the afternoon bike rides and a scheduled trip in the cable car up the Aguille du Midi.

But I was wrong. Aided by our charismatic teacher Yannick, who steered the classes skilfully between seriousness and fun, and who possessed highly sensitive antennae to detect when students had switched off ("Reeshard!"), and in the company of a friendly bunch from all corners of the globe, ranging from their twenties to sixties, the classes became great fun. Friendships were made.

Linda Larsson, who runs the school with a fellow Swede, Anna Noren, moved to Chamonix seven years ago with the same motivations as so many who settle here – which is to say, not many, other than to enjoy a lifestyle that combined work with pleasure. "I came here to be a ski bum," she admits with a smile.

Larsson learned the language from scratch by attending classes at Insted, and liked it so much that in 2007 she and Anna took over the company, which was founded in 1999 and also has schools in Biarritz, San Sebastian and Tenerife. Now it is open year-round, with activities laid on, including avalanche awareness and glacier courses, and trips to neighbouring resorts.

Some students come for two weeks; many others do a full semester, ten weeks, or even a full winter season. An interesting change over the past 12 months has been in the average age of students. "It rose from 23 to 30 last winter," says Linda. "I think there are more people who are taking a career break. Around 40 per cent are in their early twenties, but we have had people in their sixties who came for the whole season."

Now around 200 students come to Chamonix every year to learn French at Insted, though not many are complete beginners, "unless they're really keen and work very hard".

If it sounds like hard work, I suppose it is but it feels worth it when you actually see progress. It certainly forced me to conclude that the only way to learn is through immersion; and I found the escape offered by afternoon biking – or, in winter, skiing – to be terrific in allowing the mind to mull over the morning's lesson.

One word of warning, though. Don't expect to emerge from the class and enter into flowing French conversation with the natives. I tried out my French in shops and cafs, only to be answered in perfect English by linguists who can spot an imposter on the 'B' of "Bonjour!" I've just got to work on the accent now.

CHAMONIX

Flights Easyjet flies from Edinburgh to Geneva from 244 (www.easyjet.com).

Learning the lingo Insted language school in Chamonix offers a variety of tailored courses and outdoor activities. It also has accredited language learning centres in Biarritz, San Sebastian and Puerto de la Cruz, offering students the opportunity to combine language study with their favourite sport. See www.insted.com.

Cycle hire Bikes are available to hire from Zero G, which caters for snowsports in the winter and cycling in the summer. Tom Wilson-North, who works in the shop, has written a book, Mountain Bike Guide: Chamonix, Mont Blanc, which features 15 mountain bike routes for every level. See www.zerogchx.com. For organised bike tours, see www.cycl-one.org.

Where to stay Insted has accommodation available to students. A good, affordable hotel for those who want to get the maximum out of their stay in Chamonix is Le Vert, on the outskirts of the town. It was opened four years ago by "a collective of like-minded characters who all share a passion for mountain life". See www.verthotel.com.

High spot The Aiguille du Midi cable car offers the speediest way to the giddy height of 3,842 metres, with an amazing panorama of the Mont Blanc Massif. It's also the gateway to the Valle Blanche ski run. For information on lift passes, and to book, see www.compagniedumontblanc.fr. For general information on Chamonix, see www.chamonix.com.

Apres ski Finally, for aching limbs, try a Swedish or hot stones massage, courtesy of a Scottish ex-pat, Ruth Martin, at www.ChamoFix.com.

• This article was first published in The Scotland On Sunday on April 04, 2010