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.