Instructors using Jägermeister as a teaching tool, hot spas and slopes all leading to a bar at the bottom: in the Bulgarian ski resort of Bansko – and discovering that it’s cheap and VERY cheerful

The first thing to tell you about Bansko, Bulgaria is what it is not. It’s not a sanitized alpine ski resort full of British parents clutching rictus grins as banknotes fly out of their pockets, surrounded by Eurotrash playing Europop from portable speakers as they zip down the slopes in designer clothes. In other words, it’s not boring.

No. Bansko is a place with character. For example, on our first day on the mountain we discovered that the place was frequented by sharks. Benign sharks, as sharks go, but sharks nonetheless.

These were unemployed ski instructors on the hunt for idiotic beginners who arrive at the top of the slope hoping for the best and find they can barely stand.

The sharks offered to take them to safety for €50. We saw several unfortunate skiers descending the slopes in this way, terrified and in the grip of death.

But the sharks were honorable and good-tempered. Leaving their escorts crying but unharmed, they graciously accepted their shaking wads of cash and headed out to score a bottle of Jägermeister. That’s what I mean. Bansko was colorful.

My fiancée, Roxanna, took snowboarding lessons from an instructor who kept a bottle of Jägermeister in his ski suit pocket – we didn’t ask if he bought it with sharking proceeds – and recommended snails of it to her as a reward. relaxing at strategic moments.

She found it very useful and we bought a bottle to take home.

Meanwhile, my three teenagers (plus a buddy) and I were taking ski lessons from an abstract young man with the temperament of a physicist, who immediately declared that he was not there to be our friend, but to teach us how to ski. . And teach us to ski, he did. Most efficient. It’s amazing what you can achieve without the talk.

Even the youngest, ten years old, made good progress without – as far as we know – a Jägermeister.

We all stayed in a beautiful chalet with the unlikely name ‘Diana-Ross’. It was run by a group of super-chilled British ex-pats with a strange appetite for Backgammon, who we called ‘the friends’.

There was home-cooked food, made by a Bulgarian mother wearing a headscarf; a sauna and a hot tub; and a bottomless supply of home-brewed rakia (a fruit brandy) that you can enjoy behind a small bar in the lounge.

The ski rental place was next door and the mountain was five minutes away.

We visited some hot spas, which were steaming and still in the cold air.

The last evening we had a traditional Bulgarian dinner in a restaurant where men in embroidered vests played accordions and guitars raucously until you gave them enough money to leave. Every evening the air was laced with wood smoke.

But about the skiing.

Bansko is located in the Pirin Mountains, at an altitude of approximately 914 meters.

The resort is essentially a single mountain with beautiful runs of varying difficulty, plus some decent off-piste areas that could keep a family entertained for a week.

This is one of the things that makes it good. If you have semi-independent teenagers, like me, or groups of skiers with different abilities, you can give everyone free rein without fear of losing them forever. All roads lead to the bar at the foot of the mountain. Just tell them approximately what time they need to be back and bring in the beers.

Speaking of which, for this trip I also got my hands on a handful of gadgets called Milos (www.okmilo.com/en-gb/), which I highly recommend. These are small, round, very powerful walkie-talkies that you can attach to your arm or ski helmet and are voice-controlled.

As long as you speak loud enough, your group can chat all the way down, even from some distance away. This means, at least in theory, that no one is left behind.

It also means that when you’re bombing towards a junction in a track, you can shout ‘right, right!’ and it’s their own fault if they turn left.

Bansko being Bansko, you’ll eventually see them at the bottom. (Just make sure you use the small cord to loop the Milo around the strap, as it may have a tendency to come loose if you fall.) A must-get.

But I was talking about the skiing.

The runs themselves evolve – yes, evolve – around the crest of the mountain, taking shape as they go down, winding along a single bar and culminating in that one point at the bottom.

When you arrive at the top (at 2,600 meters) you stand in the wind atop an empty white dome that stretches in all directions.

Apart from one or two nonsensical signposts there are no markings. You need to gird your loins, check that the kids are ready – they are – and head over the top, following the lines of other skiers until you reach the posts and fences that demarcate the sides of the different runs.

It can be quite difficult to determine whether you are driving blue or red, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s all very skiable.

For thrill seekers there are several decent black runs – one long, straight one in particular – and acres of fluffy off-piste (I’m told it’s fantastic, but I’m not an off-piste type).

For beginners, meanwhile, there are some greens populated by good-natured instructors, a collection of very pleasant blues and some extremely friendly reds. Something for everyone, in other words.

Bansko is nothing if not affordable. But in these times of boomerang demand and unstable economies, prices are no longer at rock bottom.

In December it was revealed that the cheapest resort in the world was Bardonecchia in Italy, where a week for one adult, excluding flights and accommodation, works out to £531.65, according to Post Office research. In Bansko the equivalent cost is £641.62. Which brings me to an overwhelming question: is the extra fun worth the extra £90?

I damn well think so.