The sight of one of Britain’s greatest ever skiers bombing down the slope in a classic racing tuck will remain etched in my memory for years to come.

“Was it Chemmy Alcott?” asks one of a group of skiers pulling up alongside us, stopped in their tracks by the very distinct sight of the blonde-haired Olympian and presenter of the BBC’s Ski Sunday rounding the practice gates. I generally avoid celebrity culture, but it’s hard not to be in total awe when you watch the four-time Olympic skier on a race track – even just a small piste side in Tignes.

I am here as part of a residency hosted by Chemmy at Club Med Tignes. This week-long ski camp offers the chance for regular skiers like me to get tips from an inspiring pro. And for anyone wondering, Chemmy’s inimitable presentation skills carry over to real life; she is the same in person as she is on screen, full of energy, enthusiasm, knowledge, insight and fun.

“I have a healthy relationship with fear,” she had told me earlier, as we tucked into a nutritious breakfast of eggs and salad from the buffet—protein and antioxidants—after starting the day with a yoga session at 7 at the gym. “People have to push themselves out of their comfort zone – we’re all coasting through life working at 80%,” she continues. “Personal growth is choosing to go beyond the 80%, opening up to phenomenal success, but also risks and mistakes. I never lose, I either win or I learn.”

And won, Chemmy did. She competed in four consecutive Olympic Winter Games – in Salt Lake City, Turin, Vancouver and Sochi – and in seven FIS World Championships. She has won 44 gold medals in her career and was once the eighth ranked skier in the world. Despite breaking 49 bones in her body, including crushing her right leg, Chemmy has overcome life-changing injuries to continue competing. When she retired in March 2014, she was the only British female skier to win a World Cup race.

“My catchphrase is ‘no falls, no balls,'” she says, as I move on to baguettes, croissants and jam (we are in France, after all, and the buffet is a sight to behold, wannabe athletes or not). whether you’re a beginner or a pro, if you don’t fall, you don’t learn.”

Club Med runs residencies with top-level athletes throughout the year to showcase its facilities and, according to UK managing director Nicolas Bresch, “create once-in-a-lifetime experiences” for guests. Past star hosts during the winter include the likes of Graham Bell, Billy Morgan, Jenny Jones, Aimee Fuller and Jamie Nichols.

Skiing with big names has gained a foothold in the world of winter sports holidays. Top athletes are often paid by companies to host special weeks on the snow, from legendary ski jumper Eddie “the Eagle” Edwards and former England rugby international Mike Tindall to British skier Konrad Bartelski.

And Chemmy, who, in addition to keeping us busy before we hit the slopes with yoga and talking us through an athlete’s menu at mealtimes, hosts various ski clinics. We cover carving, racing and off-piste as well as spa visits and trips to Tignes to explore the market, not to mention some après ski fun.

“Although she obviously knows how to ski, Chemmy made great suggestions like tubing in the village with our 14-year-old daughter,” said Clara Tonks from Bristol, who attended the camp with her husband Steve. “Which is not something we would have known about. Her whole approach was about being enthusiastic, open and willing to give her time to help us.”

Expert insights undoubtedly pay dividends. In my work as a ski writer, I’ve been lucky enough to spend time on the slopes with some incredible athletes – from one-off races with Freeride World Tour skiers to the “Ski with the Superstars” camp run by Chris Davenport in Portillo, Chile, every August. I find that the love a top athlete has for their sport generally improves the way I learn – and it’s not just the back time. Conversations over breakfast, on the chairlift and in the après ski bar provide fascinating insights into what makes these people tick – not to mention the great pro tips.

And this week with Clemmy in Tignes is no exception. I have been trying to improve the flow of my left turns for years. A series of injuries to my left side and the fact that I am right-handed, and therefore right-dominant, cause me to skid to the left. Passing my instructor exams a few years ago didn’t completely solve the problem, which has been compounded by more injuries. I came to Tignes with the intention of sorting it out.

“Think about putting grapes in the ankle,” Chemmy suggests to me, “and then make Bordeaux with those grapes. Keep the pressure all the way around the bend, hips in front of knees.”

It sounds like basic stuff, and at first I’m frustrated, because the sliding won’t stop. But Chemmy has created a very non-judgmental atmosphere and eventually, after filming my technique, which no one has done for years, it’s finally starting to click. For Carla and Steve it was the same.

“It was brilliant to have this kind of instructional time, especially during the competition clinic, when there was no right or wrong – just room to experiment,” says Carla. “The video feedback was fantastic; you can really see what position your body is in and what you are doing. And it was almost playful, trying new things and seeing how they feel. Chemmy gives us all permission to experiment and understands that people learn in different ways.”

We start the week with some free riding right off piste — keeping the pitch manageable and staying within sight of the lifts reduced the fear that can come with a big off piste adventure. An ESF (French ski school) instructor, qualified to lead a group off-piste, accompanied us, checked the conditions and planned the routes.

But we soon graduate to more adventurous terrain, going off-piste into the Valley Perdue in Val d’Isère and taking a fun run through a gorge beside the village of La Daille, which I’d never skied despite countless visits in the area. We end the last day’s skiing with some dancing in the afternoon at the legendary mountain bar La Folie Douce.

As I wearily headed home, and Chemmy had gathered the group to ensure we were on time for the final lift, she surprises me once again. “I like it when people get frustrated,” she says, in response to my annoyance that it takes so many years to correct the slip on my turns. “We are afraid of losing control, especially on skis, but it’s about trusting yourself and your ability to be free. To be a part of someone’s ‘eureka moment’ is such an honor, such a privilege.”

With that, she clicks into her bindings and effortlessly jumps off for the final run home over a mogul-infested piste – no signs of fatigue whatsoever. And I follow her, physically tired but mentally uplifted: Chemmy’s enthusiasm is truly infectious.