Activities such as snowshoe hiking and cross-country skiing have always seemed to me like a particularly strange European idea of 'fun' - but I'll try anything once. By Editor Anna Tuson

I don't claim to be any kind of expert, but skiing and snowboarding I understand. The unique pleasure of tearing down a powdery slope at exhilarating speeds (for me that's not necessarily 'fast' as such) really lets you know you're alive.

But what about the less obvious snow sports? Activities such as snowshoe hiking and cross-country skiing have always seemed to me like a particularly strange European idea of 'fun'.

Then last weekend I had visitors from Zurich come to enjoy the beautiful mountains of Valais with me, and they wanted to try these bizarre activities. Being the obliging hostess that I am, I of course agreed with due enthusiasm. I didn't even ask the obvious question: Why?

Day 1: Snowshoe hiking.

I had gone along with the idea to hire these fascinating plastic and metal contraptions in complete naivety. I just didn't take the time to consider what might actually be involved. But as I strapped them to my boots and took in the steep track that loomed before me, the reality of what was actually ahead dawned on me. As opposed to my usual mid-afternoon hobby – a few hoons down the piste on a snowboard between shifts – we were going to ASCEND. Yup - on foot.

Again I bit back the desire to demand what for me was the only natural response to such a notion (Why? Why? Why? Why?!), and I took my first steps in my brand new shoes. Definitely a new and different feeling... but actually kind of cool, I decided. My companions were in agreement and we all clambered off with genuine enthusiasm.

The track led us off-road into the real wilderness of the mountain's forests. And always up and up. Surely we would come to some downhill, or at least flat stretches at some point, we reassured ourselves after around an hour of climbing. But it's a breath-taking landscape that surrounds us, and it's pretty incredible to be out there and have it all for ourselves.

Two vertical hours later the enthusiasm had run dry. So what if we had astonishing views on all sides?! Where was the freaking restaurant at which we were supposed to have arrived after an hour and a half? An hour and a half of what  precisely - snowshoe sprinting? We weren't exactly meandering with our three-runs-a-week Fuhrerin setting the pace. But cheering ourselves with the thought that surely, surely there must soon be the possibility of a comfy chair and cold beer (it's surprisingly hot and sweaty work) we persevered.

One hour later: completely over it. But there is light at the end of the tunnel - a gondola station. Step by heavy step we drag ourselves the last 20 minutes and praising all powers that be, haul our ragged bodies aboard. It's over. Time for crepe and hot chocolate, and to settle just who's idea exactly it was to go snowshoe hiking.

But don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I wouldn't do it again! No, it was actually quite enjoyable for the first half of the trek – we just overdid it a bit on the first go. We were completely unprepared for what we were taking on. I recommend it to anyone with a reasonable fitness level, stamina, and mates that don't whinge too much.

It's perfect for the end of the season as the snow slowly fades and skiing etc is no longer possible. You also don't (necessarily) have to pay for a gondola pass, and snowshoe rental is cheap. All you need to a good pair of hiking boots and the usual mountain weather get-up.

Final verdict: 6/10

Day 2: Cross-country skiing.

You may be thinking after such an adventure as a three-hour vertical trek on snowshoes one might be inclined to take it a little easy the following day. I know I was. But no, the team was still full of beans (even after a few well-deserved apres-ski rounds the previous evening) and determined to give another intriguing sport a shot – cross-country skiing.

I was assured it was much lighter than yesterday's activity, so once again I allowed myself to be convinced. Perhaps it's a personality fault but I am amazingly easily led.

So here I am back at the bottom of the piste. I click on my peculiar skinny skis and we set off. And it is hilarious. Apart from the fact that the motion is basically what you might term an 'exaggerated stride', which is just plain geeky in itself, there is a whole lot of falling over involved. I'm not sure if this is normal.

 It's not like skiing or snowboarding where you get up a bit too much speed and wipe out, or get tangled up trying to turn on a bit of tricky steep piste and end up taking a spectacular dive. The pace is slow and seemingly controlled, but it is just so hard to maintain balance on the slender skis. All three of us are constantly on our bums - although the falls are not particularly dramatic. And it seems to happen completely randomly and unavoidably.

The track is not particularly well-kept, so maybe that has something to do with it, and it is certainly not all flat, as we thought it was supposed to be. The uphill parts require a lot of effort, and the downhill parts even more so, as we have to constantly untangle and haul ourselves out of the snow and bushes after toppling over.

But it is so much fun! We laugh until our stomachs ache. And then, eventually we start to get the hang of it, and it is really very pleasurable. It's an amazing feeling to be right in the thick of nature. The forest is just magical when it's all wrapped up in snow, shimmering pristinely and deeply silent. And the gentle skiing motion starts to become quite meditative – until, "ARRGH!" One of the trio is down again, and the other two collapse about laughing until they nearly wet themselves.

So maybe it will take a few more goes before we properly get it down, but this is a sport most could pick up in a relatively short period of time, and it really is worth a go - good for the body, mind and soul.

Wow - I think I'm turning European.

Final verdict 8/10

Anna Tuson - Expatica 2008