Flipping the Switch

It's winter, as of this week and just in the nick of time. Our traditional pre-Thanksgiving opening here at Okemo on the third weekend of November was delayed this year due to what we still call "unseasonably warm" weather. At some point, I suppose, we'll have to relent and declare this the normal state of affairs in the 21st century climate of New England. In any event, two weeks ago I road biked comfortably in shorts and a short sleeve jersey, and last weekend we had our annual 'train-the-trainers' meeting for the Okemo Ski + Ride School indoors because of the lack of snow. The resort opened this past Tuesday with one trail and 'sporting' conditions, but cold temperatures hit hard and our snowmaking team has been working around the clock. This weekend many families have descended upon Okemo to ski and ride off their Thanksgiving feasts on several trails. All were rewarded with what was originally supposed to be a squall that stuck around all afternoon and has been dropping snow on us in some real quantity. It's as though when we turned on the compressors to get ready for snowmaking last weekend, we flipped the switch and turned on winter itself. Add to that the number of people bringing life and energy to our base lodge and the shops in town, and it really does feel like the season has started. We anticipate adding more terrain daily to our trail count and settling in for the long haul of a great season, and everyone, myself included, is excited for the winter to be under way. Finally.

Not-So-New School

New school, old school, blue school, red school;
Telemark, alpine, snowboard, bar stool.

I do realize that 'bar stool' makes no sense here. I may not be much of a poet, but I've been frustrated lately and 'bar stool' is the best I can do. At least it rhymes with 'school'. In any event, at the risk of sounding like a grumpy old man, what's frustrating me is the near-sighted sense of history among young skiers. There can be no doubt that Shane McConkey was an inspiring athlete who pushed the boundaries of our sport and that his death was a terrible loss. He did not, however, start a revolution. Perhaps it's a matter of pre-digital age exploits not finding as much of an audience with young people, making it difficult for them to have a broader perspective. It may bring grins to my friends' faces when I pull out VHS copies of Greg Stump movies, but when young folks at Treble Cone who aspire to fame and fortune in big mountain skiing tell me that they've never heard of Scott Schmidt, it makes my skin crawl. He was in Powder Magazine center folds, for crying out loud! Last winter, one of our young American instructors at Okemo who has been a life-long skier admitted to having never heard of Bill Johnson or (deep breath here) Franz Klammer! That one nearly gave me a heart attack with visions of being greeted by Sondre Norheim at the pearly gates. Wow, pass me the schnapps, some aquavit, slivovitz, or zirbengeist; pass me something!

At the end of the day, I take solace in the simple fact that most of us are still out there skiing for the same reason people have for generations - in the half-pipe, the woods, the race course, the park, the groomers, the bunny hill, and in the backcountry. Even at its most utilitarian, skiing always has brought joy and inspired passion in people. Simple folk, new school pioneers, downhill legends, and numerous other people far more accomplished, far more articulate, and far more influential in the world than I am all have written passionately about skiing for centuries. My favorite among these forefathers is Fridtjof Nansen.

Nansen was a scholar, athlete, explorer, writer, diplomat, humanitarian, one of the fathers of modern Norway, a Nobel Laureate, and in his spare time he was the first man to cross Greenland. Skiers are most familiar with his line that "It is better to go skiing and think of God, than go to church and think of sport." His seminal book First Crossing of Greenland (Pá Ski over Grønland), recounting Nansen's 1888 crossing of Greenland, is an absolute classic. This treasure trove of skiing wisdom resonates even now, and Nansen's words help to inspire me as I await the start of another season:

Of all the sports of Norway, 'skilobning' is the most national and characteristic, and I cannot think that I go too far when I claim for it, as practised in our country, a position in the very first rank of the sports of the world. I know no form of sport which so evenly develops the muscles, which renders the body so strong and elastic, which teaches so well the qualities of dexterity and resource, which in an equal degree calls for decision and resolution, and which gives the same vigour and exhilaration to mind and body alike. Where can one find a healthier and purer delight than when on a brilliant winter day one binds one's 'ski' to one's feet and takes one's way out into the forest? Can there be anything more beautiful than the northern winter landscape, when the snow lies foot-deep, spread as a soft white mantle over field and wood and hill? Where will one find more freedom and excitement than when one glides swiftly down the hillside through the trees, one's cheek brushed by the sharp cold air and frosted pine branches, and one's eye, brain, and muscles alert and prepared to meet every unknown obstacle and danger which the next instant may throw in one's path? Civilisation is, as it were, washed clean from the mind and left far behind with the city atmosphere and city life; one's whole being is, so to say, wrapped in one's 'ski' and the surrounding nature. There is something in the whole which develops soul and not body alone. Nansen, Fridtjof, First Crossing of Greenland (Pá Ski over Grønland), 1890.

Sounds perfect. I can't wait.

Daydreaming

I'm in Vermont, but at times my mind and my heart are far away from here – far in a geographical sense, far in a visceral sense, and far in terms of time. In shoulder season, sandwiched between my Southern Hemisphere winters in Wanaka, New Zealand and my Northern Hemisphere winters in Vermont, I do manage to keep reasonably busy. I have plenty of work to do to get ready for the upcoming season at Okemo, plenty of people to catch up with after several months overseas, and generally enough to occupy my time. Still, there are moments, whole days sometimes, when I'm not exactly present. When the weather comes in – as it has a great deal this fall – and I stay indoors to exercise instead of outdoors where I prefer, I drift to those faraway places and times, places real and imaginary, where my ski dreams have been or will be fulfilled. Yes, there are moments when those dreams may shift to a tropical beach with warm iridescent blue waters, but it's the skiing in my dreams that really transports me.

I've been very fortunate in my adult life to have spent time skiing in some extraordinary places in some truly astonishingly dry, incredibly deep powder snow. I remember those days and the people I shared them with in exceptional detail. Zermatt with Matt and Jason, many Vail days with a big posse, Taos with Steve, Utah solo, the Cariboos with Peter, White Face with the team, a couple of otherworldly days with Terry at Mad River, and one particular day at Treble Cone with Tyler that included a run in the Motatapu Chutes with Tim that was absolutely ridiculous. There are more, many more memories, and many more yet to come.

Today has been a dark, windy, classic Vermont November day complete with temperatures hovering around the freezing mark, snow at higher elevations and rain in town. I've been far less productive than I'd like in the sense of ticking things off my to-do list. But, in terms of dreaming deep powder dreams and contemplating the universe of snowy possibilities, I've accomplished a great deal from my seat on the couch. Thankfully, when I fall into this far-away powder daze, I now have youtube to feed the monster. If you're feeling a bit down, a bit like the concrete jungle, the Eastern dank, or the treadmill of life is getting to you, give yourself a moment and consider what's out there yet to experience through your skis or boards and the people who share your passion for them. Then, watch this video from Team Thirteen called "Deep Powder Skiing at Bridger Bowl: Part 1". It's been around a while, it may actually make you cry, and it definitely renders me less present than I felt before watching it; but, I do hope you'll agree that it's worth it.

We have just a couple of weeks to go before the ski season begins and I hope that we'll be reminded that real life can at times really come close to our dreams, especially the powdery ones.