How Princess Anne retired Erna Low from skiing (sort of!)

We recently came across this very amusing story in John Samuel’s book “Bedside Skiing”, which explains the reason for Erna Low’s decision to call time on her love of skiing and we thought it summed Erna up perfectly!

Erna Low did not blush when a young woman journalist described her as the Snow Queen.  She giggled.  As doyenne of the snow tour operators, she had been in the business for well over 50 years and was not easily surprised or put out.  She knew who she was.

As it happens, however, to all good veterans of the slopes, a day comes when it is time to stop. Skiing, that is. Erna Low’s own last day is firmly etched in her mind.  The circumstances, mind you, were not exactly ordinary.  She had been informed, in the special circumlocation of those times, that the girl with the famous mother would be in the Benenden School party.

She was in no doubt who they meant.  The problem was that, as with the rest of the party, The Princess Anne would have to share a room with three others.  A further problem was that the alloted room had three good beds and one camp bed.  Next. . . goodness! The daughter of the famous mother was going to arrive late.  All three decent beds would be snaffled by the three who got there first.

By the time the advance detective arrived to scout things out, everything had been arranged.  Somehow a fourth decent bed had been crammed in.  The three other girls dutifully turned their faces to the wall when appropriate.  Good behaviour was maintained for the duration – but they were anxious moments for those in charge.

Erna, still a touch distracted, hung herself around with her usual camera gear and set off for the slopes.  She knew the press were not supposed to be around.  She also knew that no pictures were allowed in the papers.  But some photographic record was permissible, she felt.  The equipment was heavy, and made skiing difficult.  Suddenly she caught an edge and slipped into a river.

‘I thought I was going to drown. “Hilfe! Hilfe!” I shouted. Some Germans were passing and they came over to help. but as one tried to pull me out, he fell in too.  It was a terrible mess, and terribly dangerous.  Luckily the others managed to get both of us out.  But that was it.  No more skiing.’