Godot

What is the meaning of life? What is the nature of death? Is there a divine being? Is there life on other planets? Did Shoeless Joe Jackson actually participate in throwing the 1919 World Series? Considering these fundamental questions is the luxury of people with spare time. Watching the world go by, studying the clouds, contemplating the nature of the universe and life without snow … Wait a minute. Contemplating life without snow is not an existential question. Not this year. And we certainly have the time to consider it.

There is no snow in Central Vermont. The weather continues to be warm and sunny – lovely, really – and Okemo has officially delayed our opening until conditions change. In our collective memories, there have been very few starts to a ski season as green and grassy as this one. We have one of the best snowmaking crews on the planet and can rely on them to keep us on track even in the worst case scenarios, except this one. Those of us who have been doing this for a while, who have depended on New England winters for our livelihood and our recreation, know that it will snow. It is going to get cold in Vermont, the weather is going to turn nasty, we will ski and ride, and I promise not to complain when the temperatures drop below zero.

In the meantime, those of us who teach skiing and riding here in the Eastern U.S. do have plenty time. I've got a couple of small projects going, I'm catching up on some reading, enjoying the sunshine while I can, and actually benefitting from the ability to consider ski technique and ski teaching in the big picture. Oops, I just looked at my watch and I need to run. I'm meeting Vladimir and Estragon for some more existential musings – Godot was apparently seen wandering the streets of Ludlow. I wonder if Samuel Becket skied …

Down in the Village

I've been living in Ludlow, Vermont to work at Okemo for several years now, and having returned from my southern winter in New Zealand and settled in for another season, I'm keenly aware of just how small a town it is. Like any small town, Ludlow has its characters and its idiosyncrasies, but the times when the smallness wears on me a bit are well-balanced by the times when the smallness and its familiarity give me comfort. It is, after all, one of the great strengths of our resort that it is located smack-dab in the middle of a real town, filled with skiers and non-skiers alike, and that all of the development on the hill has not totally overwhelmed the feel of the place or the ability of hard-working Vermont families to live and raise their children here.

Since arriving back in town I've reconnected with a lot of people – friends and colleagues both. I haven't really been engaged in a formal 'doing the rounds', but together with a bit of catching up on the local gossip there is also an important element of catching up on what's happening in the business of Ludlow and at Okemo. All this faffing about, as the Brits would say, is relevant to my job and does have an impact on my role here. Simply put, my support from the resort staff, the ski shops and the other businesses in town, and my relationships with all of these people enables me to do my job better and to keep the work I do with our guests in context.

We're very fortunate in Ludlow to have a few full-service ski shops that are exceptional and I rely a great deal on the people that run them. In my mind, the singular element that makes our shops so good is that they all work hard to put each customer on the right gear for that person, not simply what the shops need to push out the door or what's hot. Whether it's Randy at Northern Ski Works, Shon at The Boot Pro, or Torin at Totem Pole, or the many returning members of their able staffs, they are all legitimate experts with many years in the business and I never hesitate to send any of my guests to them. Boot fitting is a serious craft, ski selection is like pairing wine with a meal, and tuning is an art, and there's an awful lot of bad information and folklore out there and in the popular press about equipment, so the role these guys and their staffs play is indispensable in making the Okemo guest's experience a quality one. No, I do not work for the Chamber of Commerce and I am not on the payroll of any shop. Yes, I depend on them for my own equipment needs. Yes, I work closely with Randy and his staff at Northern but not just because they are my local Nordica dealer – I depend on them for my own needs and those of my guests. The only thing I get out of sending my guests to any of these shops is the confidence that my guests will receive the same high level of personal service that I provide in my role as their instructor. Besides, I genuinely like all of the people who run and work at the shops, I enjoy stopping in to see how things are going, and the good-natured ribbing between the shops' team members on our locals' race day is always a focal point of the season for those of us who participate. With the exception of race day (officially called Innkeepers, affectionately known as "World Cup Tuesday"), my relationship with the shops makes me feel very strongly that we're all part of the same team, engaged in a truly collective effort on and off the hill.

The small town affect is by no means limited to the ski shops. The coffee house knows how I like my java, the postmaster remembers my box number and whether I need to have my mail held or forwarded while overseas, the realtors keep their eyes open for my guests, and the bartenders know what beer I drink - particularly useful when the watering holes are packed on holiday weekends.

Now that the leaves have all dropped and the snow falls with more frequency our mountain, there's a certain energy in town, a mix of last minute preparations and nervous curiosity over what the season will bring for us here. Okemo opens on November 21^st, the traditional opening on the weekend before Thanksgiving, and at the end of the day we all take comfort that each of us here in Ludlow enters the winter season together, sink or swim. If I'm going to be in the same boat with the population of a small town, there are few crews I'd prefer to set sail with in the ski industry than the one we have here in Ludlow. It will snow, and the sooner the better, for all of us.

Rounding the Corner

It's coming, nearly here, all lights are green, all systems go and I'm definitely ready. After a few weeks of spinning my wheels - literally on the bike and figuratively - the next ski season starts here in Vermont in a couple of weeks and it couldn't arrive soon enough. Fall here is glorious in October, but with all the leaves now off the trees, the weather turning colder and nastier, and everyone at Okemo and in the shops in town working hard to get prepped for the crowds we hope will join us, we're all getting anxious to get started. It will snow, we will ski and ride, and I'll be grateful to continue my endless winter!

The Other Side of the Coin

Since arriving back in the US from New Zealand, I've been a guest at a resort in the desert southwest. Why is this relevant to a blog about skiing, teaching skiing, and the many aspects of a life and career devoted to both? It's relevant because here I am the guest for a change. At Treble Cone and Okemo, and in the snow sports schools at both resorts, guest service is a major focus of everything we do - how we approach our jobs, how we dress, how we spend our time, etc. Once in a while, it's helpful to see how other people do it, and it helps to actually be the guest. There is an extent to which I feel like a carpenter entering a house built by someone else, taking a critical view of every service, every conversation, every system, but it's only a small extent. The reality of my stay here is the not-particularly-novel realization that good guest service works, it makes for a more relaxing, more enjoyable stay, and definitely makes me want to come back. While here it's been snowing in Vermont (and all over the northeast), ski areas have started up their snow guns, and the serious preparation for another winter season has begun. So I'll take a few more leisurely strolls in flip-flops and then it's back to the action, but it's been nice to see and experience the other side of the coin for a change.

Parting Ways, Parting Shot

I took the photo above on Saturday morning from Glendhu Bay, looking north across Lake Wanaka towards Mount Aspiring - 24 hours before leaving Wanaka at the conclusion of another winter season. I've seen the view hundreds of times and it still stops me in my tracks. I hope to see it hundreds more, but the photo will have to suffice in the interim.

I'm back in the US now, enjoying some down time before yet another winter season. I'm excited for it and for teaching skiing full-time at Okemo once again, but I'll enjoy my time in flip flops and warm weather while I have it. It'll snow soon enough and I'll be ready.

On the Valley Floor

Yesterday, Monday, after looking forward to it for several months, my friend and colleague Nick and I played a round of golf at the Wanaka Golf Club (Nick is pictured above showing the benefits of a youth spent in Scotland). In the middle of the day. In shorts. In the sunshine. With no responsibility for anyone or anything, for a few hours anyway. Sunday was the final day of the Treble Cone season and Monday on the first tee my off-season began in earnest. My tee shot traveled long and straight and landed smack, dab in the middle of the fairway – I can’t say that this boded well for my round but it was pretty cool from a metaphorical perspective.

The winter at Treble Cone is short and intense, lasting from the end of June until early October. With so many of the staff coming from overseas, there is a great deal of front-loaded work to do so we hit the ground running as soon as we get off our respective planes at the airport. We don’t really slow down until it’s all over, and then we start planning for next year. Thankfully, this season all of our hard work paid off in many ways big and small – for me, for Nick who runs our children’s programming, and for our director Klaus. We worked hard to effectuate a cultural shift in our snow sports school, generate more business for our staff and enhance the quality of our guest service while at the same time looking after the continuing technical development of our instructors. We succeeded at all of these things while generating a really good feeling among our staff. In the end, we solidified our place as the premier snow sports school in New Zealand, a tall order for a school with less than fifty instructors, something about which we are justifiably proud.

I do hope to return to Treble Cone next year – there are goals we’ve set for ourselves which we have yet to achieve and challenges we can better confront. Mostly, after it’s all said and done, TC remains an inspiring place to ski and ride and Wanaka remains a home away from home, so I’ll look forward to coming back. But for now, in the midst of the exuberance of spring, I can throttle back, walk a little more slowly, take the time to enjoy my friends and my surroundings, and breathe a little easier here along the lakeside on the valley floor. Like the winter season at Treble Cone, my off-season is short and I need to make the most of it. The next winter is right around the corner and my flip-flops need some outdoor exercise.

Out of the Mists

I recently made a trip from Wanaka to Christchurch to celebrate Yom Kippur, the holiest day on the Jewish calendar (I love the irony of celebrating Yom Kippur in Christchurch). The five hour drive to Christchurch, the South Island's largest city, winds through some pretty amazing countryside. Among the many sights were the Lindis Pass, Lake Tekapo, Lake Pukaki and, best of all, Mount Cook / Aoraki, the tallest peak in New Zealand. It's Spring here and the two lakes are filled with glacial runoff that gives the water an iridescent blue quality. With sunlight breaking through the clouds of an approaching storm only intermittently, the views looking north towards Mount Cook / Aoraki from Highway 8 near the towns of Twizel and Lake Tekapo were particularly dramatic.

By way of explanation, as part of a larger effort to respect and include Maori culture, history and language as a part of modern New Zealand, many places go by both their English and their Maori names, hence the reference to "Mount Cook / Aoraki". It's a credit to the fruits of this effort that in NZ, dual names like this are a simple matter of course.

It's difficult to put the scale of Mount Cook / Aoraki into perspective, but it really is massive. I was fortunate to see its summit above the clouds for a brief spell on Sunday. Like so many of the world's natural wonders, seeing it in person is always more inspiring than in pictures. I do hope, however, that these photos convey a sense of the place.