Out of the Chaos ...

For people who have never experienced a busy holiday period at a Northeastern ski resort, I happily provide the picture to the left. I took the photos from near the base area of Okemo on Sunday, December 30 at about 10:15 a.m. The crowd includes the lift lines for two separate quad chairlifts, the line for the base area magic carpet lift, people emerging from the base lodge for a late start on the day, and numerous ski and snowboard classes having just left line-up for the start of their lessons. On that day, Okemo sold somewhere in the vicinity of 11,000 lift tickets (not including a few thousand season pass holders). I'll report in later on the final numbers for what is turning out to be a record-breaking holiday season for us, but for now I'll just say that it's amazing that those of us in the Learning Center have been able to pull off what we've done given the resources available.

Over the last few years, as my book of clients has grown, I have rarely had to be in the base area for either our lower level ski group lesson line-ups or for the 3:30 p.m. "Kids Corral". They're impressive, if not a little nuts. Kids Corral is a little like being on the deck of a busy aircraft carrier in wartime, with the occasional jet 'coming in hot'. We literally set up a landing path with cones and waive in all of the ski and snowboard kids groups as they come down to the base, all the while trying to make sure that the children don't disappear until we've 'handed them off' officially to the appropriate parent. Our lower level ski group lesson line-up, while actually quite organized, looks absolutely chaotic to the untrained eye. OK, maybe it looks chaotic to everyone (see photos below), but at least those of us running the show understand what's going on and that all will be safe and sound. I've been running lower line-up with my friends and fellow supervisors Herb and Curt. We may keep it to ourselves, but we are a little amazed each day that we pulled it off. So far we've done so for our guests without a hitch (which I can't say for the other areas of the Learning Center).

My recent columns have not been particularly positive about my current role as a supervisor or about some of what I've seen from the staff, but this week I've been very proud to be a part of things around here. I've seen some amazing things from instructors. Several of our less experienced staff have been teaching an astonishing number of first-time skiers in lesson groups whose numbers often have exceeded our policy for the maximum. One sixteen year-old instructor, who had been a Junior Instructor with us for a few years, taught a level 3 adult group that was so big before we were able to split the group between her and another staff member that I gave her a commendation for teaching a group containing more adults than she is years old. In her case and in so many others, the staff's enthusiasm has been contagious, they've been good humored amidst some difficult circumstances, and most of them are continuing to give 100% while exhausted after having been teaching non-stop for over a week. It's wonderful to see, it has reaffirmed my faith and confidence in the people who teach here, and it leaves me wishing I were out there in the trenches with them.

Human Sacrifice

OK, 'human sacrifice' may be an exaggeration. How about 'ACL sacrifice' or 'season sacrifice'. By the morning on Monday, a big early season Nor'Easter had dropped over a foot of new snow on Okemo (note the weather map above). That was on top of what has already been an astonishingly snowy December by Vermont standards - the longest we've gone between storms has been four days. The skiing has been absolutely fabulous and we're all kicking ourselves, waiting for the other shoe to drop, though the forecast is calling for more snow right up through the holidays.

My friends here in the Okemo Learning Center have all come into the locker room or slid into line-up exclaiming about how good the skiing is, only to see me, feel guilty and then apologize for gloating. My response is that I'm better off, if not happier, knowing exactly how good it is, in detail, with precision. I want the complete and unvarnished truth so that I can keep my focus on getting strong and healthy. It'll also help me stay enthusiastic when speaking with the guests.

My friend Rich, our alpine manager and technical director (meaning he is responsible for the entire training and assessment program for the ski staff) walked into the locker room on Monday afternoon, clearly having skied all day in snow up to his thighs, and announced to all who could hear him (in typical Rich fashion) "Russ, you are the sacrifice." Apparently, I sacrificed my season so that all the rest of you could have all of this amazing snow, particularly on the heals of last year's disastrous start to winter. I'm not sure if I really would have voluntarily sacrificed my body, but I'll certainly take credit for it. Next year, perhaps, it'll be someone else's turn. I, for one, definitely will not feel any shame in taking advantage of it.

Kicking and Screaming

Following a cold November and a few big storms already, here in Vermont we’re off to the best start of any ski season in recent memory. All the snow has presented me with some interesting challenges, challenges out of the ordinary for me considering that I’m unable to ski. It may be an exaggeration to say that I’ve been dragged kicking and screaming, but I reluctantly have joined the ranks of management in the Okemo Learning Center after years of successfully resisting overtures to do so. Now that it’s a month into the season and I've gotten my sea legs as a supervisor, I thought I'd share some recently acquired insights into the broader snowsports business.

Back in November, I joined the Nordica sales staff at the annual Boston Ski and Snowboard Expo. This huge event takes place over four days each fall at the Bayside Expo Center in South Boston and is the largest consumer snowsports expo in the nation each year. All the major ski and boot manufacturers, resorts, travel companies, and gadget makers of all kinds set up booths displaying all of the current season's gear and Ski Market sets up an enormous sale center to liquidate their leftover inventory from the prior season. The event presents a fascinating and entertaining array of humanity. Half the attendees are busy looking for free stuff, half the attendees are looking for any and all equipment that will make them a better skier, and the third half are looking for a deal, any deal, however small. Many of the people attending are simply excited and ready to get out on the hill and are happy to talk shop with anyone who seems authoritative. Just about everyone who attends collects stickers like hypoglycemic children trick-or-treating on Halloween.

Apart from the difficulty of standing around for four days straight on cement floors and eating bad food a scant four weeks following knee reconstruction, the Boston Expo was certainly instructive, providing insight into the equipment sales and marketing side of the snowsports business. Mostly, the Boston Expo confirmed that I'm very glad to be on the skiing side of the ski business. I'll resist the urge to lay out the large number of incredibly funny anecdotes from the event except to say that I was not aware that it's a great thing to have a ski in the Nordica lineup that is "wicked awesome fast, just like a Solomon Pocket Rocket", said with the thickest South Boston accent one can imagine (think "Sawlimin Pawkit Rawkit"). I’m grateful for my relationship with Nordica, for the people, the equipment, and the insight derived from all of the above. How they do what they do on the sales side is beyond me, but it certainly helps that they (really, we) believe in our product, are passionate about our sport, and genuinely enjoy working with people, whatever their accent or level of expertise.

Speaking of expanding my understanding of the industry beyond my limited place in it, becoming a supervisor is proving to be a little different from what I imagined it to be. Just as I find while instructing, the guests are fun, genuinely excited to ski and to improve as skiers and, while occasionally needy, a pleasure. Their enthusiasm is contagious. The problem for me is the staff and my new relationship with them.

In recent winters, the running joke among my friends is that I’m the shop steward. I run among the supervisory staff, count them among my best friends, seek their counsel and am sought for counsel, and represent a line instructor’s perspective in the decision-making process. In a normal winter, while skiing around the hill with guests, I occasionally see things occurring in other lessons or being done by other instructors with which I do not agree or which do not meet my own standards of professionalism or quality skiing and teaching. In a normal winter I see them, make a mental note, and continue along my way, unimpeded and unaffected. This is no normal winter.

Perhaps because I am unable to ski and teach, and certainly because I’m the person assigning staff to their lessons, I feel responsible for the content and conduct of everyone’s lessons. It’s a problem for which there is no solution. Yes, I can try the Taoist approach and affect the staff in little ways with subtle comments, but that’s not particularly effective in the short term and not particularly gratifying. It’s not that the guests aren’t having a good experience or that they’re not learning anything. It’s just that the quality is not what I know it can be.

This is not intended to be a commentary on our Learning Center or on ski instructors generally. The majority of our staff does an exemplary job. I’m lucky to have numerous colleagues whom I trust to provide my own guests (a term I prefer to ‘client’ or ‘student’) with the same level of care and quality experience that I would provide myself if I were able to teach this year. The difficulty for me lies with the few staff members that I know can be better but aren’t. I am open to the possibility, a significant caveat to this whole analysis, that I am particularly sensitive this season to issues relating to other peoples’ skiing and teaching.

Ultimately, apart from my own personal psychosis relating to other instructors’ performances on the job, there are two aspects of what I’m doing this year at Okemo which form the crux of what makes it different. First, rather than providing guest service on an intensive, extended and mostly one-on-one basis, I am now providing guest service to many, many people every day for very brief periods of time. Secondly, as in the case of the Boston Expo, I’m seeing a side of the business about which I have been blissfully and intentionally unaware.

At the end of the day, each day, I am an instructor and coach. I’m very grateful for my current job and for my wonderful relationship with Nordica and the people at our local retailer, Northern Ski Works, and I intend to learn a lot from all of the above. Ultimately, however, I hope this added breadth of experience will help me improve my own teaching, my own skiing, and my appreciation for and understanding of the people with whom I am fortunate enough to ski.

Almost There

The weather has been ideal for snowmaking, the "Guns and Hoses" crews are at full strength and in top form, and judging from the energy in town everyone - guests and staff alike - is excited and ready for the season to start at Okemo.

It may sound self-serving, but even those of us who have worked at Okemo for a while continue to be amazed by how good our snowmakers are. I took these photos on Saturday afternoon and from town the next morning there was visible progress, far beyond what you see here. The long range forecast looks to be in our favor so we could have our best start in recent memory.

Given the way the season began a year ago, one could be excused for concern that the excitement in town is merely 'irrational exuberance', to borrow from Mr. Greenspan. Thankfully, conditions on the ground seem to belie good reason for excitement. I'm not sure how I'll react once the season kicks off and I can't join in the fun, but for now I'm as fired up as anyone. Three months of off-season is enough.

The Facts, Just the Facts

Throughout the process of maintaining this blog I have tried to stay away from writing content about myself. Rather, I try to write about the interesting places and people I encounter in my travels through my 'endless winter'. With that perspective in mind, I've been intentionally vague about the reasons for my coming home from New Zealand early, but after several inquiries I've decided to lay out the facts.

On September 4th, on the best day of skiing of the season down in New Zealand, making turns with good friends on great terrain in waist deep snow, I badly injured my right knee. I felt and heard my ACL snap in the crash, but after some "physio" and a lot of rest in Wanaka I began to wonder whether I'd imagined it. I returned home on September 18th to expedite my medical care and found that I had been correct about the ACL and that I also sustained severe contusions (bone bruises) on my femur and tibia. To put the crash in perspective, the contusions are the result of the bones themselves twisting in the fall, so one can only imagine the torque involved. I had arthroscopic surgery on October 3rd here in Connecticut, using a piece of my quadracepts tendon to replace the torn ACL. After a week in an immobilizer, icing like crazy and unable to do even the simplest household tasks, I had the sutures removed and began the long road of rehabilitation.

My knee continues to improve daily. The focus of my rehab for now is regaining full range of motion and as of this writing I'm just about there. More importantly, I'm able to walk without crutches and sleep through the night without counting down the minutes until I can take another dose of Tylenol. The rate of atrophy in my legs is quite staggering - I've lost nearly 15 pounds in the 3 weeks since surgery, and it's not because I'm getting thinner. The long range expectations are that I'll have enough stability in the knee to ski lightly in March, but that it'll be a full 9 months before I'm back to 100%. The contusions are the more worrisome and painful aspect of the injury and they are slower to heal than the ACL, so they militate a conservative timeline. Taking the long view is key considering that I hope to continue skiing professionally and at a high level for some time.

I continue to benefit from the generosity of my parents and their care and hospitality as I recover. Without their support I'd be dusting off my degrees and making a bee-line for the nearest office. My friends at the Okemo Learning Center will be looking after me this winter, providing me with a supervisor's position so I can keep my head, if not my feet, in the game and remain with my dear friends and colleagues in Ludlow, Vermont. Nordica is standing by me as well, for which I am very grateful. In addition, I've received many very kind and flattering well-wishes from guests of mine at Okemo - I am obviously not in the ski teaching business for the money, so their appreciation serves as a wonderfully positive reinforcement for me.

I plan to continue to write in this space about skiing and living in the mountains, including some more technical ideas about our shared sport. Thanks to all of you for keeping in touch and for taking the time to read my postings. Now it's time for all of us to do the snow dance, so put on your goggles and boots, put in the ski film of your choice, and let's all dance around the living room in our pajamas.

Lesson Learned, Finally

I finally did it.

My natural skiing style, one that got me through decades of making turns successfully in both directions (for the most part) is all about strength. The task for me in my own development as a skier, like many of the guests I work with, has been to broaden my skill set and rely less on my natural strength, keeping it in reserve for when I really need to dig deep. It’s a concept that I often discuss with students – I don’t want to eliminate those aspects of someone’s skiing that are personal characteristics. The goal, rather, is to add additional skills and round out their skiing to rely less on their personal strengths while at the same time ensure that what is characteristic does not hamper efficient movements and good balance.

Often, guests make comments to me about what they may be “doing wrong” in their skiing. My response sometimes is mistaken by them for merely positive minded coaching but is in fact sincere: that it’s important to distinguish between actions that are “wrong”, inefficient, or out-of-balance, and those that are merely characteristic of personal skiing.

One familiar way to think of this mindset may be to recall Rocky Balboa. Think of Rocky learning to fight right-handed instead of southpaw in order to beat Apollo Creed. Fighting southpaw may have been great on the streets of Philly, but wouldn’t have won in the crud and crust on the backside of the mountain (to use a far-fetched mixed metaphor). Seriously, the hope is that the result of expanding the skill set available to each of us will be greater ease with a greater variety of terrain, conditions, tactics, and turn-shapes. In my case, high edge angle racing style turns simply are not a good way to spend time off piste, in bumps and powder, or doing just about anything other than skiing fast on groomed terrain or, you guessed it, racing.

It sometimes perplexes me that so many skiers who comfortably ski on a wide variety of terrain and have done so successfully for a long time have no interest in taking lessons. As a coach, I strongly believe that these are the skiers that benefit the most from personalized instruction. For them, small, simple, subtle changes in how they think about skiing, how they understand their movements and apply them in different situations can have a dramatic impact on how efficient, how strong, how balanced, how accurate and how not tiring their skiing can be. Again, it’s about expanding the tools available to each of us on the hill.

In my case, keeping my strength in reserve means becoming more supple and accurate with shaping my turns, relying less on side-cut and bending the skis. Yes, in instructor speak, this means rotary skills. For years, other pros would describe this to me as “rotate your feet”, to which my response was “if you want me to rotate my feet, call patrol first”. It took some time (and some coaches understanding of my literal nature) for me to realize that what is really intended by this common description is that I needed to better rotate both of my legs inside my hip sockets. The rotary movements are actually the femurs rotating in the hip sockets and it happens continuously in both legs throughout each turn, rotating in the direction of travel to more actively shape ski turns. It's how we control the shape and size of our turns without depending entirely on our equipment.

So, what did I finally do? What’s the point really? Well, I finally successfully twisted my feet. OK, I twisted one of my feet. Actually, I finally twisted my lower leg independent of my upper leg. Unfortunately, since this doesn’t work biomechanically, this meant destroying my ACL in the process. It’s not exactly a small price to pay for years of effort, but at least I have the next five months off snow in rehab to contemplate my success.

Onward and Eastward

In a season which was not a summer, I’ve skied in a place with no trees, slept in a house with no insulation, worked for a company with no old people, missed one of my best friend’s weddings, and celebrated the Jewish New Year alone by the side of a lake on the other side of the world. That’s all on the surface. Dig deeper and consider that I’ve shared my favorite thing with guests in a dream-like mountain environment, gained a deep understanding of a culture which is alike my own but only at first glance, worked with young and enthusiastic people from around the world, was reminded of how blessed I am to have many great friends in many places, and celebrated the Jewish new year in one of the most beautiful spots on the planet. Plus, I’ve gotten to experience spring, with all its joys, twice.

As much as I do love to watch the arrival of spring, I think that there is something lost in not being able to experience the changing of the seasons all the way around. I don’t consider departing Auckland in spring and arriving in New York the same day but in autumn, to be a particularly healthy 180. And no, I don’t think a long layover in Las Angeles makes it any better. It’s particularly funny to celebrate Rosh Hashanah in Wanaka with the leaves budding and Yom Kippur in the Berkshires with the leaves turning. In the abstract, given the subject matter and theme of renewal, spring is probably a more appropriate season for the Days of Awe. Then again, our days on the Jewish calendar start at night, so go figure.

With all of these oddities, all of the difficulties in getting here, living here and working here, I’ve really loved it. I hope to return for another season at Treble Cone and in Wanaka and find more things different, interesting, wonderful, and beautiful to share with my family and friends. Most importantly, I hope to return to some of the people I’ve met here and again enjoy the privilege of their company. If I get to ski again at Treble Cone, all the better.

I'm headed home tomorrow morning. From the time I walk out of my front door in Wanaka and into my home in the US, it'll be about 34 hours when it's all said and done. Phileas Fogg would be proud of the amount of ground covered in that time but I can't help feeling that it's a bit of a formality. It's been a great season here in Wanaka, but it's time to go.

Spring, Definitely

A few days ago I made the trip with a couple of friends from Wanaka to Haast Beach, on the West coast of the South Island. The trip took us along Lake Hawea, which runs parallel to Lake Wanaka to our East, through the Haast Pass and along the Haast River to the coast. One of the things that made the trip so interesting was how quickly the climate changes once one leaves the very arid alpine area around Hawea and Wanaka and enters the narrow and very damp climate of the Haast Pass and Haast River. The change is immediate and very dramatic.

The Haast Pass is the lowest elevation crossing from the lakes region on the East side of the Aspiring Range, the Mount Aspiring National Park and the Southern Alps generally. The valleys are quite narrow, so the runoff of water from the high elevations and the way the weather comes in from the coast makes for a heavily forested and incredibly wet area. The drive over the pass is punctuated continuously by stunning waterfalls cascading through lush vegetation. The water retains the vivid aquamarine color of glacial runoff, however, so it's really quite striking. In places, such as the Gates of Haast, the runoff streams bear great likeness to the Pemigewasset River in New Hampshire, with its numerous falls, rapids and exposed rock. Having spent a winter in Wanaka and Treble Cone, walking through dense green forest of old-growth deciduous trees and enormous ferns provided a welcome change.

On the West side of the pass is Haast Village, basically a glorified rest area with some lodges in it. At first it seems odd as one would assume that it'd be the perfect place for vacation hideaways, with good fishing and such a great set of beaches nearby. The lack of development is explained in part by the sand flies, which apparently are so voracious that they often leave bite-lines along your swim trunks that look like sunburns.

Finally, there's Haast Beach. The grazing pastures run right up to the large dunes which are sprinkled with a wide variety of colorfully flowering plants. The beach is wide and long, with no development whatsoever. It's punctuated by a large amount of driftwood, evidence of the severity of the storms that hit the Tasman and the strength of the runoff from the Southern Alps. Needless to say, my friends performed a ritual baptismal in the frigid sea - one is from the East Coast of Scotland and is oddly in love with cold sea water, and the other is from Australia and is not to be outdone. I, being from New England, sat and watched, enjoying instead the sun and the warm sand between my toes.

Summer, Almost

A funny crash in seriously deep snow plus ...

... some TLC at the TC Clinic after a ride with patrol plus ...

... some warm, sunny weather and some frozen vegetables equals a strange way to get a little bit of summer while here in Wanaka. I'm continuing to make the best of it here, but in order to focus my attention on the upcoming ski season at home, speed is of the essence and the NZ system is thorough but not exactly quick. I'm leaving New Zealand for home on September 18th, about a month earlier than originally planned, in order to get the medical attention I need with a little haste. At least the flip-flops are getting to spend some time outside!

I fully expect to be back at 100% in time for Thanksgiving - fit for skiing, cycling, and for carousing with my niece, nephew and cousins on a full stomach.

On the Life List

"The Life List". We all have one, a list of places we absolutely must see in person. The danger of making a list of anything like this is that we'll treat it like a check list - "Grand Canyon, check; Kathmandu, check; Zambezi River, check" - and not take the time to really experience the places for what they are and how they inspire.

Yesterday, I spent some time in the town of Glenorchy here on the South Island and decided that it's a mandatory addition to any mountain person's life list. Glenorchy is at the North end of Lake Wakatipu, the same lake with Queenstown (capital of adrenaline junkies, fur-wearing Aussie ski tourists more interested in shopping, and late-night Euro-club Red Bull and Vodka joints) on its South end. Queenstown ends abruptly as one drives North on Route 6A along the lake and in its place are some of the most incredible views of water and mountains I've ever seen. Glenorchy is a world away from Queenstown and is the kind of two-block water-side valley-floor village I imagine is in the remote upper reaches of Alaskan rivers. There's not much to the village - a welcome center, caravan park, numerous trailers, and a few trading posts and outdoor adventure centers. The Glenorchy Cafe resides in an old Victorian house and is a cozy spot with excellent food, a little funk in the way I like a little funk in my cafes, and an outside seating area with the best view of any restaurant this side of Kleine Scheidegg.

Sit, drink a glass of the region's wine, listen to the water flow by, and watch as the afternoon light and gentle breezes make the mountains come alive. It's difficult to convey just how beautiful it is in Glenorchy. So, as a consequence, the only thing I can do to overcome my inability to articulate the awe inspiring nature of the place is to post a few photos and insist that you put Glenorchy, New Zealand on your life list. Next weekend I may head to Milford Sound and again will likely struggle to describe it as my list gets longer.

The Kea

For some time now I've had it in mind to write a story about the Kea. My current status (read: not skiing) provided me the opportunity a few days ago to stalk the Kea with my camera. No I wasn't wearing khakis and a pith helmet poking through the tussock and pompas grass, I was strolling around the Treble Cone lodge and cafe.

The Kea is a large (up to 50 cm in length) parrot indigenous to the high alpine areas of the South Island. They are among the most intelligent birds in the world, generally unafraid of people, will and do eat anything, and have a particularly odd affection for all things rubber. They are well known for removing the windshield wipers and weather stripping from the cars parked at TC and are not bashful about eating any unattended food from the plate of a guest in the cafe, while the guest is still seated in front of it. Keas are a protected species here in NZ, so they pretty much have the run of the place at Treble Cone.

Among the photos below my favorite is of the Keas chowing down on the stinky bike shoes of one of the competitors in the recent Peak to Peak multisport race at Treble Cone. Enjoy.

Passing Time

The "batch" where I'm living here in Wanaka at times feels like it's located in any suburban subdivision. My backyard is surrounded by a high hedge, obscuring any views of Lake Wanaka and the surrounding mountains, leaving me with only the Crayola-colored blue sky, the now-green lawn and hedge, the unkempt gardens of the house and the tops of the surrounding houses to admire. A "batch" is a Kiwi vacation home, somewhere in between a cabin and a house, typically of simple design and small size in the way a good middle class family would aspire for a little piece of the country to call their own. In between cars passing on the roads surrounding the house, with Spring having arrived here in town I now can hear the dramatically increased number and variety of birds making their homes in the neighborhood. With the late day sun aiming its rays squarely on our back porch, it is at least a very nice slice of suburbia on the edge of the Southern Alps.

Some of the staff at Treble Cone have begun leaving for their lives overseas - some headed for university, some for better paying work to tide them over and recoup some money before the Northern winter. I prefer to stay and experience the gradual winding down of the season - without a full four seasons I'll take whatever ebb and flow I can. The resort continues to be busy enough, but at a much more humane pace, without any of the frenetic activity of high season. Of course, high season here just isn't that busy but the contrast is what's important. I like to watch the snow gradually give way to Spring, as the tussock grass continues to increase its presence even after the huge storm we had a few days ago.

Why so contemplative on a beautiful, sunny afternoon with terrific skiing up on the mountain? On Tuesday, towards the end of an incredible morning of skiing complete with my friends and I giggling like school girls while making turns in snow up to our waists, I may have pretty severely hurt my right knee. It's not yet clear just how bad the injury may be. It's taking some effort to navigate the New Zealand health care system and I do remain optimistic, but in all likelihood my ski season here is over. I am going to remain in Wanaka for at least another couple of weeks and will try to use the opportunity to see some of the area I've missed by working so much. I may even just have to come back in order to finish on my terms.

Deeeep!

Here are Hampton and Jeremy enjoying some incredible powder on Cloud Nine in the Saddle Basin yesterday. As for how the day ended for me, details to follow ...

Batten Down the Hatches

I took this photo of Treble Cone from Beacon Point on the shore of
Lake Wanaka yesterday.











I took this photo at approximately the same time and location today.
It's coming. It's definitely coming. And it's going to be big.

The Expanding Universe

Over the last few days I've seen some incredible night skies. Those who have never travelled outside of the industrialized world can't really have a sense of what the skies look like so far removed from city lights. Even in the great parks of the American West and on the islands of the Caribbean where the night sky is free from light pollution, the number of visible celestial objects pales in comparison to more far flung locales. I'm fortunate to have been in a few such places and I'm always struck by the enormity of what we can see from them. I include the Southern Alps in that rarefied category. Recently we experienced a lunar eclipse in spectacular fashion and it really drove home the point. There's nothing like a blood-red moon to stir ones imagination.

Tonight, with no moonlight and not a cloud, the stars reminded me of a story I read last year about Elsa Einstein. While Edwin Hubble was showing Albert Einstein around the observatory where Hubble did much of his research, Elsa Einstein inquired after the telescope's giant reflector. When told that it was used to determine the size and shape of the universe, Elsa reportedly said to Hubble "My husband does that on the back of an old envelope." Walking home from Wanaka a short while ago, I could imagine Einstein contemplating the universe with the naked eye while the rest of us simply look up in amazement.

Pink

We've all hit the mid-season blues here in Wanaka and up at Treble Cone, so it's definitely time for a top ten list. Here are the top ten things I miss about home:

10. Trees. At Okemo we love to ski in the woods and at TC there isn't a single tree in the place. It makes skiing in flat light particularly difficult, seriously.
9. Critters. There simply aren't any, except for the rabbits which were brought in by the English (I can only guess why the English would bring in rabbits). There are literally no indigenous mammals here on the South Island, no rodents, nothing. The only things that scamper are the drunken teenagers.
8. Fresh Food. And you thought the Shaws in Ludlow was bad ...
7. Buffalo Sauce. Mmmmm. I get delirious thinking about it.
6. Cheep Beer. I never thought it'd be a good recruiting tool for Okemo that we can buy a 36-pack of High Life for under $20. It's the simple things in life.
5. Free Condiments. Imagine paying $.50 for a pack of "tomato sauce" and it's not even proper ketchup. Don't even consider looking for mustard or relish.
4. A Comfortable Bed. My back is a mess.
3. Diversity. I am the closest thing in Wanaka to a swarthy ethnic type. There are some Asian tourists but the only diversity in town comes from me, an Israeli snowboard instructor who grew up in New Jersey, the Indians who run Bombay Palace, and the Turks who run the kebab takeout joint. The Maori are only on the North Island and Wanaka is incredibly white as a consequence. The place is so white that the Scots in town add color. Some pigmentation and some ethnic food in the supermarket would spice the place up, literally and figuratively.
2. Old People. The average age of the staff at Treble Cone must be under 25. I'm a bona fide geezer.

And the Number One Thing I Miss About Home ...

Insulation. I brought a bunch of thermal long underwear to NZ to use while skiing and the only time I wear it is when I go to bed at night. The Kiwis are just now figuring out how to insulate their homes, use double-glazed windows and weather stripping, and heat their houses with something other than plug-in heaters and fireplaces. Heck, our fireplace doesn't even have a flue we can close. Plus, when the wind blows I could sail a boat around my bedroom. Mind boggling, and very, very uncomfortable.

Blitzschnell Part 2

Here's some video I shot on Thursday morning, August 9th, of the Austrian World Cup squad training slalom at Treble Cone. Yes, these guys are good.

Blitzschnell

Who are these guys, just hanging out, chewing the fat while doing some light off-season slalom training? Why yes, it's the Austrian men's World Cup ski team, of course. Just in case you're not impressed by the numerous Olympic, World Championship and World Cup titles in this crowd, you can come to Treble Cone, participate in one of our five day intensive ski school programs, and get credentialed for an early morning lift ride to watch them up close and see just how good they are. All kidding aside, this morning I had the opportunity to take my guests to watch the Austrians train slalom up close in a relaxed environment on a hill with no fans, no officials or gatekeepers, and no fence in between us and them. Once we got over the giddiness of it all, the experience provided an an incredibly fertile learning environment. It also allowed us to share in our passion for the sport and talk seriously about why we love it, why racing is important, and why these elite athletes represent all the great things sport in general has to offer. As an aside, the early morning lift ride also enabled us to see the sun rise after a storm cleared, providing some of the best views I've had yet at TC along with some superb skiing.

Wow

Today at Treble Cone we had some awesome visitors. The slalom and GS specialists from the Austrian men's World Cup ski team have been here for a couple of weeks, but today it got really interesting. Unannounced and totally without fanfare - no press, no fleet of vehicles, no fuss - the entire men's United States Ski Team showed up for some free skiing. They all booted up in the lodge among the tourists and the sizable number of young racers here for summer training. Olympic gold medalist Ted Ligety, World Championship medalist Erik Schlopy, Scott McCartney, Steve Nyman, and Jimmy Cochran all bought lunch in the cafeteria and skied on the same runs as the general public - and those are only the that guys I recognized. After a lot of watching the Austrians and hearing all sorts of technical ski conversations between coaches, athletes and technical representatives, all in German, it was absolutely a pleasure to have our guys out there, showing us just how good they are. They were friendly, chatty, and they rip.

I'm in the middle of teaching a five day program to a small group of guests. We spent some time this morning watching the US Ski Team ski, soaking it in. We simultaneously marveled at what the best in the world can do on skis and felt really good about the fact that skiing is such a small world and that what we do and what we're learning on skis is the same as them. Just not as good. I only wish that I'd had my camera.

"ABS" - Another Bloody Sunset

Here's the view from Ardmore Street, the main drag in Wanaka, looking out across Lake Wanaka as the sun set over the Mount Aspiring National Park yesterday.

Kansas

We received several inches of snow this past week. Finally. What a difference a few inches makes! The photo of fresh tracks coming down from the hikable summit of Treble Cone towards the top of the Saddle Quad is from this past Thursday. It's a little funny here: the moment there's even the slightest fresh powder to be had, people will strap on their ridiculously fat, long powder skis and hike the summit to get fresh tracks. Needless to say, I'm waiting for the real thing but I'm glad to have the additional cover in the meantime.

I skied into the Motatapu Chutes today with a group of locals I teach every Saturday, all good skiers. It was the first time I'd skied these chutes, the first time I'd even seen them up close, and definitely the most imposing terrain I'd ever skied while teaching. I could have done without the insane traverse to get out high enough to avoid the 40 minute hike out of the bottom of the runs, but it was worth it. There's a very big storm on the way and so I hope to free ski the chutes soon - I'll make sure to post some photos. We're definitely not in Kansas anymore.

Couldn't Stand the Weather

The photo above is taken from Upper High Street looking down at the entrance to a trail called Superpipe in the Saddle Basin. Before seeing and skiing Superpipe, I was a bit skeptical about the idea of a natural half pipe. What I certainly didn't expect was a seriously steep couloir (note the drop off above) with views clear across the Saddle Basin (note the tracks on the ridge in the far background) and walls that get to be near 15 feet high. It may not exactly be the Sobe Superpipe at Okemo, but who cares? Seriously!

All is well here in Wanaka, though we've been without any additional snow since my last post. In fact, we went from Saturday July 7th until yesterday without any change in weather. Yep, no change at all. No clouds, no wind, nothing. The temperatures may have changed a few degrees in one direction or another and the inversion causing clouds to cover Lake Wanaka below the level of the Treble Cone base area may have cleared on some afternoons, but the mountain remained eerily cloudless and the same. Day after day, after day, for two weeks. Finally, yesterday the wind picked up, the temps fell and, miracle of miracles, we got some cloud cover and some flat light in the afternoon. I never thought I'd be grateful for flat light. I even put on goggles.

We are now in serious need of snow. The cold weather has kept the bumps in the Saddle Basin quite soft, but there is plenty of gravel working its way onto the groomed runs and the drop-ins on the front side are all quite dicey. In another week, the Austrian and Norwegian World Cup teams will be here in force: men, women, speed and technical event skiers, support staff, manufacturers, and all. There are even rumors of a special appearance from a certain racer from New Hampshire. A little snow for the best skiers on the planet would be a great way to welcome them to Treble Cone and keep the rest of us busy. In the meantime it could be worse: I could be in an office and we can't have that now, can we.

Finally, a Day in the Saddle

After weeks of waiting, we finally received some powder and some sunshine on consecutive days. On Saturday, July 7th we skied under clear blue skies in over a foot of light, dry snow and finally were able to sample the incredible terrain of the Saddle Basin, pictured here. It was without question among the most fun days of skiing I've ever had while in uniform. Yes, this is my job.

Devil in the Details

We've just finished our first week of business at Treble Cone. It was a lot of fun and not particularly busy, so a good way to ease into a new job in a new place. We've had a mix of weather, to put it charitably, so with the NZ school vacations over the next two weeks we're in serious need of some snow. Having said that, I thought I'd turn my attention to some of the micro level things that make life here in New Zealand so different from home in the US.

First and most obvious is driving on the left side of the road, which is easy enough to get used to. It's the fact that the blinkers are on the right side of the steering wheel and the wipers are on the left that's tough. I can easily identify foreigners newly arrived in Wanaka when they turn a corner in their cars with the wipers on and the sun shining. One odd difference one wouldn't expect is that in order to turn on a light switch here you pull it down and then flip it back up to turn it off, which makes for good fun at the Southern Hemisphere's expense. Another is that the cold water taps are on the left and the hot on the right. Couple that last one with the fact that our hot water is incredibly hot and our cold water is oh-so-cold, and it can be quite a rude awakening, literally.

Then there is the Kiwi accent and use of language, which involves the flip-flopping of vowels, among other things. Their pronunciations "six" always bring a grin to my face. Kiwi's comfort with risque conversation topics in what Americans consider polite circumstances is pretty funny, and the language is always, err, colorful. I guess when an entire nation is comfortable, easy-going, self-assured and unpretentious, a little foul language is not a big deal. Add to that a typically healthy dose of fart humor, and it's pretty hilarious.

In all seriousness, the Kiwis are very quietly proud of their country, its natural wonders and its place in the world. There's really no jingoistic, in-your-face patriotism, as is found in the U.S. and Australia; just a calm, quiet appreciation for New Zealand's many blessings. That notwithstanding, my housemates and I very much are looking forward to hosting a loud, celebratory and unabashedly jingoistic July 4th BBQ in a couple of days. We've even acquired a whiffle ball to make it official. Happy Independence Day everyone!

Incredible Views

I couldn't resist posting another photo from this morning, looking accross the lake towards Treble Cone.

Back At It

Greetings from Wanaka, New Zealand. I've been here a little more than a week and we've just had a decent size snow storm. It dropped several inches of snow here in town, which is pretty rare, especially considering that they don' have snow removal equipment for the roads. The photo on the left is a view of Treble Cone from the shore of Lake Wanaka, not far from my house this morning. Look closely on the center-right of the photo and you'll see the switchbacks which constitute the only real green run, so as you can see the terrain is pretty impressive. From a teaching perspective having so much difficult terrain presents some good tactical challenges, particularly coming from Okemo where, to be honest, we don't have a lot of challenging terrain. We'll be training on the hill on Monday, June 25th and the resort opens the next day, so the new snow has really gotten all of us excited. Up close TC is even more impressive and I'll look forward to posting more photos once on skis. For the record, the most difficult thing I've had to contend with since arriving in NZ has been selecting which photos to send to friends and family. It really is every bit as beautiful as you can imagine it to be.

Getting Ready

I'm now one month fully removed from the end of the ski season here in Vermont and it's less than two weeks before I depart for New Zealand. The short "off-season" has posed some interesting challenges in terms of my physical health and fitness. I've become a very big believer in the need to allow my body to get sufficient rest and recuperation once the season ends. This year, that strategy simply isn't an option (no summer for me) and my fitness goals are a little more unclear.

As in the case after each ski season, I have been "over trained" for skiing, a little over weight, and definitely a little banged-up from the long winter. As a result, my Spring road biking regimen is always more relaxed than most dedicated cyclists as I try to strike the tough balance of recovery and reestablishing fitness. The challenge this year is to retain my ski fitness, rest my body quickly, develop a little better cardio base, and at the same time enjoy my one month of off-season. If I win the lottery and don't have to work in the off-season, I'll do daily yoga, eat nothing but organic foods, spend a few months cycling and hiking in [name your favorite mountain range], and work with a personal coach. Until then, well, my regimen is a little more pedestrian in nature and involves cycling in the Greens and the Berkshires and eating the power meal known as PB&J.

New article just published

I am pleased to let everyone know that an article I've written has just been published in the PSIA Eastern Division newsletter (the SnowPro). The article is a bit technical and is intended for ski and snowboard instructors, but it also may be of interest to the general skiing and riding public. The article can be found at page 29 of the following link:

http://www.psia-e.org/ms/eastbenefits/snowpros/SP2007Spring.pdf

Now that it's so warm and sunny outside it may not be the most appropriate time to be thinking about skiing for those of you not headed to New Zealand, but I do hope you enjoy it.

April 19th in Vermont

Here's the entire Okemo Learning Center staff ripping it up on April 19th. And you thought we were in it for the money.

Welcome

Welcome. We're finally drawing the curtains on a long winter season here in Vermont, a season filled with some definite highs and lows. On the one hand, we had the worst start to a ski season in recent memory, with high temperatures, lots of rain, and crocuses up in our lawns during December. Of course the wet holiday season was followed by a few weeks of record-setting cold temperatures and a remarkably snowy March and April, just as we were ready for winter to end. On the other hand, I had a fanatstic season on the hill. I skied with many terrific new guests and reconnected with existing ones, all of whom were enthusiastic, eager and a great deal of fun. More than any other season as a ski pro, this winter it was the guests who helped keep my spirits up and my focus on the things that are so important to all of us. Together we shared in the process of evolving as skiers, enjoyed our time outdoors together, and challenged ourselves to experience all that the mountain has to offer, regardless of age or ability.

The necessary question to ask is what someone in my position does now that the season is ending, the days are long, and the weather has finally warmed up and dried out? Why, I'll head right out to the other side of the globe and have another winter of course. Just as my feet should start taking flip-flops for granted and my cycling fitness should be hitting mid-season form, I'll be off to Treble Cone on New Zealand's South Island for another wonderful ski season. I hope to use this blog to keep in touch with family, friends and guests, to provide some insight on my pending adventure, and to keep some small spark of the joy of winter burning in all of you this summer.

Have fun!

Russ