P.S.: Contents of the Sub-Zero Sandwich

It’s over, for now at least. We’ve just come through the other, warmer side of a weather cycle that was at times pretty frigid. The season has been pretty cold on the whole so far, but last week was downright brutal. To put it in context, today it never really got above 20 degrees Fahrenheit and it felt positively balmy.

Writing my last post about some of the stranger and funnier issues relating to dressing in severely cold weather here in Vermont brought into stark relief some of the common misconceptions people have about dressing when the temperatures really drop. I thought it might be helpful, therefore, to take a few moments to explain exactly how to, and how not to, dress.

First things first: the sheer number of layers one wears when the temperatures make Vermont feel like Siberia are of absolutely no consequence. If I had a dime for everyone who froze while expressing disbelief that their sixteen layers were not keeping them warm, I’d have enough money for a really good cup of herbal tea (more on that later). When I point this out to people, a common response is something to the effect of “but I’m wearing two Under Armour shirts.” Congratulations on your brand choice. Every major sporting goods company and outdoor gear manufacturer sells some sort of high quality first layer which is intended to sit next to the skin and wick moisture away from the body. Wicking is a good thing, we like wicking, but wicking layers covered by yet more wicking layers leaves us dry, very dry, and cold.

Another prime example of a high tech, gee-wiz material that is both expensive and fashionable but is a terrible insulator is “soft shell fleece”. Soft shells are great pieces of clothing, but they are a barrier with very little loft. Wearing a soft shell and hoping it keeps you warm would be like foregoing fiberglass insulation in the rafters of your house because you think the Tyvek will be enough.

The key element in dressing for severely cold weather is loft. No, not “The Loft”, as in our classic ski town watering hole here at Okemo, but “loft” as in insulation. Think puffy, as in old-school, quilted down jackets. The puffier, the better. The more loft there is in a piece of clothing, the more air is trapped inside that garment and the better its insulating properties. If we’re dry because we’re wearing a good first layer, we have layers that add loft on top of that, and it’s all topped off with some sort of barrier against wind and the elements, we stand a good chance of staying warm. In addition, the most important factor for keeping hands and feet warm is to keep the body’s core warm. So, since we can’t exactly ski or snowboard in down booties, focus on the important organs in the core and the feet are less likely to start looking cadaverous. Be aware that just because your new Spyder, Burton or Arcteryx jacket was expensive and is made from a super-double-top-secret multi-membrane shell material and is insulated does not mean it’ll keep you warm enough. Go big, go fat, get puffy, then put your stylish jacket on top. Just in case you have trouble getting the picture, I've included one above.

The photo shows my personal system for what we call "The Nuclear Option" for use only when the temperatures on the hill reach well below zero Fahrenheit. In the top row, from left to right, are a long sleeve first layer made of gee-wiz wicking material, a thick zip-neck second layer, and a fleece cardigan third layer (containing no barriers, just thick, fluffy fleece). In the bottom row are a no-frills down sweater for layer number four and a quilted, insulated vest for layer number five. On top of all of this goes my shell uniform jacket for the sixth and final layer.

Once you’re dressed properly (done correctly, you should look and feel like the Michelin tire man), there are a few other important issues to consider. Seriously. First, when the temperatures drop into single digits Fahrenheit and below, it’s important to not have any exposed skin. It takes very little time for exposed skin to become frostbitten in certain conditions, so do yourself a favor and cover up your face. Frostbite hurts a ton, it renders you susceptible to recurrences far more easily, and leaves you looking like a leper for some time. I’ve done my nose, cheeks and chin, and I know from personal experience that it’s not worth it to be a tough guy. Second, eat. Staying warm when it’s arctic outside takes a lot of energy - we burn a lot of calories just standing around, so eat plenty. Third, stay away from caffeine. Physiologically, it impedes your body’s ability to stay warm and can lend a false sense of how warm one is staying out there.

My last piece of advice is to anticipate getting cold, don’t wait for it to come to you. In other words: go inside, frequently.

If all else fails, go cross country skiing. As long as one has no exposed skin, one can cross country ski in severely cold weather and break a nice sweat, stay warm, get some exercise, not wait in lift lines, and still enjoy a day outdoors in the middle of winter in some beautiful surrounds. You might even enjoy it.

Dagwood, Nukes and Sub-Zero Weather

As a kid, I had a particularly fanatical approach to making sandwiches. Often on Sundays, my grandparents would visit and spend the afternoon. The inevitable meal which was the centerpiece of the day invariably involved deli sandwiches. We’d have an enormous array of meats and cheeses, a selection of breads, the usual lettuce, pickles, coleslaw and potato salad, and condiments which included an oddly wide variety of mustards. While the other members of the family made quick work of putting together their favorite combination and set about eating it, I’d design, plan and build an elaborate and carefully constructed sandwich over what must have seemed to my siblings to be an inordinate amount of time. Some condiments, in my eight-year-old brain, were far better on the bread side of cheese or on the meat side of it, some worked well next to lettuce and some didn’t, and there were considerations for which meat and cheese went in what order, which mustard complimented which meat, and whether pickles, coleslaw or potato chips actually went on the sandwich or merely accompanied it. Looking back now it is a bit disturbing and, I am certain, excellent fodder for teasing from my friends. For me, it was simply the very serious process of creating a great sandwich and then eating it. Perhaps I should consult a Tibetan monk about whether this constituted some sort of gastronomic mandala – an elaborate painting made from sand painstakingly for days only to be swept away when completed.

What on earth could my childhood Dagwood sandwiches have to do with skiing? Layering, that’s what. We’ve just completed a very busy holiday period here at Okemo and we’ve had some challenging weather in this stretch. In the last week of 2008 and on New Years Day in particular, Vermont really bared its teeth with some very cold, very windy weather. On January 1st, the temperatures never really climbed above zero degrees Fahrenheit (-17.8C) at the summit and the wind chill factor stayed in the -25F (-31.7C) range all day. Couple this with the fact that our uniform jackets in the Okemo Ski + Ride School are, well, old and require us to dress as though we’re not wearing them, and our layering takes on a whole new level of process.

Given the way our schedules work with private lessons during busy periods, full-time instructors frequently are out in the cold all day, seven hours a day, with few if any breaks. So, out of necessity and experience, each instructor who has been teaching here for any length of time has a very specific and very personal system for dressing when temperatures plummet. What goes on first, what goes on last before the uniform, what gets tucked into the pants and what doesn’t, what layer gets zipped all the way up to the chin and what is left open and how much. Gaiter, face mask or balaclava. Boot heaters, talcum powder, chili pepper, toe warmers, boot covers, helmet covers, and even air exchangers are all fair game when it’s so cold our nose hairs freeze.

Once all the layers are on, the task of zipping the uniform jacket is the last remaining obstacle. Like the great rye breads and rolls at my parents table, over stuff the sandwich and the jacket won’t allow enough movement to ski, or to sit down on the lift for that matter, assuming one is able to zip it at all. It is not shameful but rather can be a source of pride to have to seek assistance in zipping one’s own jacket.

In the lexicon of the locker room, we call dressing for severe cold “going to the weapons”, and it definitely takes on the air of doing battle with the elements. One funny aspect of each instructor’s particular system for arming themselves for the cold is that we all have one layering system in reserve that we’ve never had to use. We call it the “nuclear option”. Once we go nuclear, there is no way to go back, so we make damn sure that conditions warrant that kind of escalation. One other funny consideration is the speed with which we dress. Dress too fast and you start to cook, leading to jokes about putting garlic, rosemary and olive oil inside the jacket to complete the roast. Peek inside the locker room at 7:45 on a weekend or holiday and you’ll see instructors lingering in their wicking layers and then rushing outside once dressed fully.

At the end of the day, with the right attitude and a sense of adventure (together with some very generous pro pricing from Patagonia and our friends at the local retailers), good instructors can make fun out of even the harshest of conditions. In the very worst case scenario, we can always tell jokes and swap stories with our students over a hot chocolate in one of the lodges. Perhaps that’s a rationalization, but it is all part of our shared experience and I wouldn’t trade it.

In The Beginning

In the snowsports industry, two major factors on which the success of a resort depends are the generation of new skiers and riders and the retention of existing ones. Far too many people try skiing or snowboarding once or twice and then walk away from the sports. For those of us who teach, this means that there is a very great burden to make certain that anyone trying skiing or snowboarding for the first time enjoys the experience enough to come back. Obviously, part of this entails their returning to spend more money at our resorts, but it also means an opportunity for us as teachers in the truest sense.

As I’ve noted in my description of this blog and in countless conversations with guests and other pros over the years, I view the job of an instructor, at its essence, as one of sharing our passion for our sports with as many people as we can. The best way I’ve found to articulate this is to explain that we should all strive to ‘make the answer to the question “yes”.’ By this I mean that after we’ve taught a beginner to ski or ride, when they are asked whether they ski or snowboard they should respond “yes”, proudly. The answer should not be “well, I did try skiing once” or “my [friends / family / spouse / etc.] took me on a ski trip and …”. The ideal answer is “Yes. I went to [Okemo, Treble Cone or another resort], I took a great ski / snowboard lesson, and now I am a skier / rider. I love it and I’m totally hooked.”

For the second season in a row, we here at Okemo Mountain Resort have had a free early season program for beginning skiers and snowboarders, inclusive of equipment rentals, a lower mountain lift pass, and a beginner lesson. While we do get some people who have skied or ridden before, nearly all of the participants are new to our sports. The program has been a resounding success and the numbers tell quite a story. Between December 1st and December 16th, 2008, the Okemo Ski + Ride School taught 1,651 people how to ski or ride for the first time, including 926 riders and 723 skiers. Last weekend, December 13th and 14th, we taught 782 beginners, including nearly 500 on Saturday alone. It’s a remarkable accomplishment and, judging from my observations, the overwhelming majority of our students have had a wonderful experience. It’s incredibly gratifying for all of us. We have created new skiers and snowboarders with each and every lesson and have shared our passion for our sports with so many.

I’ve been very lucky. Over the last several years of teaching skiing, I’ve worked with many of the same students year after year and have had the opportunity to see their skiing evolve over time – this is true of both kids and adults. The cold hard reality of working as a ski instructor is that we make a living by virtue of the request private lessons that we generate and the tips those lessons provide. Most of us find it distasteful to “sell ourselves” too much and, thankfully, we find that when we focus on the quality of the guests’ experiences during their time with us and on their growth as skiers, they tend to come back and our livelihood improves. Plus, we get to know some wonderful folks, spending our time together doing something we love in some pretty exceptional places.

There is, however, one unfortunate irony in this dynamic: as we succeed we teach fewer and fewer group lessons and fewer-still lessons for entry-level skiers. There is a risk, therefore, that anyone who succeeds at teaching skiing or riding will lose touch with the experiences of beginning skiers. This year, a combination of factors has brought me back to the lower level group lineup with far greater frequency. It’s a rebuilding year for me, having missed the last Northern Winter with injury, private lesson bookings have dropped considerably in the current economic climate, and our free lesson program has required that we have more staff available for the beginner lessons. For me, the result has been fantastic.

Yes, I still have many high-level skiing clients that otherwise keep me busy. Yes, I still teach many upper level classes and still focus on private lessons in order to make a living. But, I have been able to share in the excitement of introducing skiers to the sport, seeing the looks on their faces as they slide for the first time, and the pride and joy that comes from mastering the simple and yet difficult tasks of skiing. It’s awesome and, though it is my injury and the recession that have caused me to step back and participate in this process from the very beginning, it’s been worth it.

As an aside, today we skied in over a foot of legitimately dry, light powder at Okemo, and it isn't even officially winter until tomorrow. Beach? Who needs a beach? I’ll take the mountains, thank you very much, and some beginners with whom to share them.

We Interrupt This Winter for an Important Announcement

Summer is good. Yes, I know what you’re saying. Yes, I realize that I have chosen to go from Northern Winter to Southern Winter and back without so much as a heat wave in between. Yes, I have forsaken summer with my eyes wide open. I do not regret it, I have not second-guessed it, and I have no misgivings about it.

However, and that’s a very big ‘however’, do not confuse my forsaking summer with my having some sort of misbegotten ill will towards warm weather and sunshine. Quite the opposite is true, as a matter of fact. So, when one of my close friends decided to celebrate his wedding in the British Virgin Islands, did I resist out of some oddly philosophical rejection of physical comfort? Heck no. I went armed to the BVI with flip flops, sunblock, good reading material, a healthy liver, and a severe need to make the most of the glorious climate and beautiful surroundings for the entirety of my brief stay.

While there, staying at a remote and exceptionally beautiful resort, despite the array of activities available to me and the enthusiasm with which my friends pursued them, I stuck to my guns and did absolutely nothing. OK, well, not nothing exactly. I did go to the gym, I did start and make good headway in a new book, I did conduct a ritualistic baptismal in the Caribbean Sea every day, I did nap on a chaise, I did stroll back and forth for multiple meals, and I did conduct an oddly long and detailed observation of the feeding habits of the native pelicans. Who knew that pelicans could be so interesting?

So, without further or due, here’s a top 10 list. The top 10 best things about vacationing on a tropical island with your friends (a/k/a “life’s good when” …):

10. It’s hot, and the best way to stay cool is to move slowly, very slowly;

9. It’s hot, and the best way to dress is by wearing only loose, light and exceptionally comfortable clothes;

8. It rains every day for ten minutes in the morning, just enough to cool off the sand;

7. The fresh local fish is good for you and tastes impossibly good when prepared with the locally-grown fruit;

6. The old local rum is good for you and tastes impossibly good when mixed with the locally-grown fruit;

5. One has to slow down a lot and pay close attention in order to observe that the rays lay along the soft, sandy bottom of the bay in the shadow cast by the pelicans;

4. The only ice around is in the drinks and never, ever under foot;

3. The difficulty in deciding which is better: the gentle lapping of the waves on the beach as my friends say their wedding vows or the relaxed West Indian lilt of the minister performing the service;

2. Bare feet are not only appropriate footwear for most activities but are acceptable attire under nearly all circumstances;

And the Number One best thing about vacationing on a tropical island with your friends (a/k/a “life’s good when” …)

1. The color of the water in the coral reef-protected bay is precisely half-way between the color of the blue sky and the color of the green palm fronds whose shade cools the beach edge.

In all seriousness, I do miss experiencing summer. Despite all of my musings about the joys of winter, losing summer is a very real sacrifice for me. If nothing else, this recent trip made that clear. Maybe I’ll stop in Tahiti on my way to New Zealand next year. Hmmm, now there’s an idea.

Not Exactly Norman

Ski towns are a bit like college towns. Many people come in for the winter season and leave as soon as the grass turns green. Many people also arrive and stay for several years before moving on to other towns and other pursuits. In an industry that tends to be peopled with itinerant sensation-seeking young people anyway, there is little permanency in mountain-sport focused communities.

One particular result of this itinerant condition is that the holidays take on a not-particularly-Norman-Rockwell composure. In some ways this means that there is something missing from the substance of our celebrations – we do, after all, work all the way through the periods on the calendar when the rest of the world vacations. It also, however, means that we can celebrate some traditionally family-oriented holidays with a focus on the substance on the celebration rather than, for example, the logistics of assembling myriad family members with the requisite stresses and intrigue.

Please don’t read anything into this statement – I do very much enjoy when my entire family can get together at my parents’ house for Thanksgiving. However, even in the healthiest and most loving of families, when the kids all have grown up and left the house to start their own families, there’s always a certain amount of stress to be found in putting them all back into the house for a few days.

Every other year, my siblings celebrate Thanksgiving at their various in-laws’ houses and my parents and I are left to fend for ourselves. Each of the last few of these “off-years” we’ve held Thanksgiving dinner at my apartment here in Ludlow, Vermont. In each of these years also, we’ve been lucky enough to have assorted non-family guests join us for the festivities. This year was no exception, and it always emphasizes the real importance of the holiday. We give thanks for the people who are important to us and enrich our lives – both those present and those absent, those that have been in our lives since we entered this world and with those that are new acquaintances, young and old, friends and colleagues, American and foreign, skiers and snowboarders, instructors and coaches, all hosted by my parents incomparable hospitality in full flower (even though it is my house and I get the credit) and who invariably are resplendent in their Dale of Norway sweaters.

In ski towns, people come and go. Some of them are friends whose company we enjoy for a season or two and then move on, and some are friends who we take with us and occupy a special place in our hearts, whether we see them again or not. We grow as people, and at Thanksgiving we give thanks for that growth and the experiences we’ve shared above and beyond skiing and snowboarding. Then, still under the effects of the tryptophan, we ski and ride on Friday morning.

I hope each of you has had a great Thanksgiving, whether celebrated with your families or elsewhere. Now it’s time to get down to the serious fun of winter.

When? Now.

My last post, written on Saturday, November 15th, wondered out loud when winter would hit us here in Vermont. 48 hours later we answered the question. It's now Wednesday, it's been flurrying for three days straight, the snowmaking crew at Okemo has had guns ablazin' since Sunday night, and we'll be skiing and riding on trails from top to bottom on Saturday the 22nd. Perhaps, after all, my snow dance actually worked. Now if only I could remember which ski socks I was wearing so I can get it right next year.

When?

It’s November 15th, the original projected start date for Okemo’s 2008/09 winter season. This evening at about 7:30PM the temperature outside was somewhere in the neighborhood of 60 degrees Fahrenheit and it had been raining for most of the day. That’s good news if you’re knitting a quilt, writing the great American novel or doing the New York Times crossword puzzle. It’s not so encouraging if you work at a winter sports resort, especially if you teach skiing for a living as I do.

All kidding aside, the reality of the effect of the weather is that it makes all of us a little anxious, perhaps a little stir crazy as we wait for winter to arrive. With all of the concerns we have about what effect the receding economy will have on our business, more anxiety is not welcome. This is compounded by the fact that all of us who work in this industry share one very effective means of releasing stress - that is skiing or snowboarding – which is not available to us at the moment. Now that it’s so gloomy and wet, riding my road bike isn’t so attractive and there’s only so much time I can spend in the gym buried in my iPod without going completely out of my mind. So, what are we to do?

Warm, wet and snowless starts to the ski season are nothing new. Those of us who work in the mountains and depend on winter don’t need to read the scientific journals to be convinced that global warming is a reality, but the fact is that snow and snow-making temperatures in New England are always spotty at this time of year. The 2006/07 season was horrible in this respect, with a dismal early season and the first real storm not hitting us until Valentines Day. That year, those of us accustomed to the ebb and flow of New England weather spent an inordinate amount of time assuring our foreign staff that, yes, it would in fact snow. There were occasions when I wasn’t sure whether they or I really needed the reassurance but, as was the case in every poor season, we were right. It did snow. It snowed a lot.

So, once again we’re walking around in circles, peeking at our cold weather clothing still hanging in our closets, anxiously talking about the amount of early season ticket sales, getting taunted by friends in the Rockies, dialing in our equipment and chomping at the bit.

The only remedy that I am aware of for the resultant psychological condition is to do the snow dance. In my experience, though there are many varieties of the snow dance, there is one tried and true formula. It involves wearing a ski hat or helmet, goggles (down over the eyes), ski or snowboard boots, and pajamas (preferably flannel with some sort of snow-themed design) while dancing around the living room or watching ski movies while seated on the couch. Please understand that in no way do I think that the snow dance affects the weather. It just makes us all feel a bit funny and helps pass the time pass while it rains in November. When, oh when will it snow? Soon, that’s when. And at Okemo we’ll make winter, we always do and we’re the best at it.