This Is Not a Drill

Last night, at the end of the infamous "Black Friday" after Thanksgiving, here in Vermont the temperature dropped, the wind picked up, and a small storm blew in with force. There's nothing unusual about this except that the storm brought with it the first real snow of the season. More significantly, it also brought the best sustained snowmaking temperatures yet. Right on the heels of their Thanksgiving feast, Okemo's snowmaking team made a meal of it, rendering the upper mountain trails unrecognizable from the days and weeks preceding. I took this photo from downtown Ludlow at mid-day today, and it's certainly a relief to look up at our mountain and to see real progress towards winter. The forecast for the next ten days looks great for snowmaking, so our long wait for skiing and riding should be nearly over. So, break out the boards and pack your gear, I expect to get the green light to start sliding and we'd better be ready.

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!