So I am back, if but reluctantly. Who could tell that I should prefer to stay atop a mountain than to return to the valley of days?I spent most of last week skiing at Sugarloaf USA, Maine's premiere ski resort. As you can see from the picture above, the whole place left me looking rather silly. Lesson learned: don't use a super-wide angle lens for a self-portrait.
My son and his two buddies enjoyed the steeps and the big, big view (below); though for some reason they preferred the hot tub at the bottom with the girls nearby more than I expected, all of which proves I have forgotten what it feels like to be 17 years old (sort of). [BTW, click on images for a larger view.]
But I have not forgotten fear, as the photo below, even now, puts a tiny lump in my throat. I mean, those are my ski boots in the foreground; should I just lift them while sitting there, I would instantly begin to slide on my backside. Not that I don't like steeps - I do. It's just that at my age I am not sure I could recover all that quickly from a mistake.
But perspective is hard to convey when using a super-wide angle lens, so perhaps this shot of my son (check out the retro jacket!) surveying things before our descent will be more helpful. He's looking down on Sugarloaf's ski village from his vantage atop White Nitro, a double black diamond trail. Our very cool descent will take us over the ridge in the middle of the photo. It's all loads of fun (though not as much fun with a thirty-pound pack on my back).
I realize that even this does not give a good sense of the scale I am talking about. That's why I took the following telephoto shots of the summit, followed by a wide-angle shot of the mountain from about the same spot. Just notice the size of the skiers in these next two images (next three images taken while riding high-speed chairlift):
And then compare the summit portion of the hill with the whole hillside (pushed back by the wide-angle lens):
Well, perhaps none of this works at all. Suffice it to say that by New England standards this place is huge, steep, fun. No, it is no Big Sky or Vail or Whistler/Blackcomb. But that does not take away from the fact that I am still smiling, dreaming -- and lurching awake every night as some image of a tree coming awfully quick port-side kicks at my reflexes.And irrespective of my son's dreadful jacket (my opinion), I must say that he looks pretty good here, burning up the hill for his old man's camera:
How hard to accept that we can't do all this forever.***
But that is not the moral of this tale. The moral, truly, is one of aesthetic theory, of artistic design: never photograph yourself using a 17mm lens at 4,200 feet while on the verge of fainting. Otherwise, you might look like this, all bug-eyed and twitchy:
(At least the shadow is good-looking -- and sane.)
Peace.
©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.
10 comments:
Nice pics. Sounds like fun.
One of the many things my (German)wife cannot abide about Missouri is the lack of skiing and decent snow. If she sees this entry, she will demand we move either to the rockies or Maine.
Cheers.
Gorgeous scenery. I am not a skiier, as I have horrid memories of the one and only time I ever went.
However, I lived in the Alberta Rockies for four years, and loved the mountains. I would go skiing again in a minute, provided I could find a cozy spot in the lodge, near a fire.
Dear R.,
Well, anywhere in northern New England will do: perhaps we can all find you a second home. Of course, the Rockies are intense and wonderful, but we at least have the ocean nearby (and New York and Boston are pretty cool too). Who needs 14,000 feet of snowy deserts? (OK. I do.)
But, alas, it won't be long before all of New England turns into a tropical rain forest, so a Rockies approach from Missouri probably remains your best choice. Not that it isn't 0˚F outside right now; or that we just had one of the coldest Februarys on record. I know that doesn't mean a thing in global warming scenarios, but the news-cycle seems to have made a big deal out of December being unduly warm. No mention of February? Curious.
Gnade
Kim,
Yes, the Alberta Rockies! I've been there. Spectacular! Perhaps I will post a few pics someday soon.
But it breaks my heart that you should have had a bad experience skiing. May I take a guess? You either went right to the top of mountain with little or no instruction -- "Come on, Kim! It's easy! Just do this!!" -- or you had a lousy ski instructor. Or, and may heaven forbid this to be true, your instructor was a boyfriend or spouse. I know skiing well enough to know that taking lessons from a spouse/significant other is nearly always an instant disaster. I have seen this too many times for my assertion to be false. In fact, I once insisted that a husband allow me to teach his wife (he was about to ruin his marriage). After she enrolled in and completed a 6-week series with me, her husband came up to me and pronounced with all sincerity that I had saved his marriage.
I believe I did.
If you ever get a chance to ski again, start with a lesson (a private or semi-private is best, though sometimes group lessons end up being just you and the instructor). And March is usually a great month to start. Not so cold.
Peace!
Gnade
You seem a bit embarrassed by your ski "hills", but having only skied on the hill hills of the Midwest, they look pretty intimidating. You're making me feel old!
Bill:
You are so funny! You're exactly correct! My husband took me skiing the weekend we became engaged.
He went with me down the bunny hill, and then left me on the "Baby Bunny" which I ended up almost crawling down. My adventures included going down backward and having my skis pop off.
The second time I went, about four days later, my older brother came with us, and instructed me slightly, but I don't think I ever got over the fear of going down backward.
Dear Kim,
Ah-hah!
So now you know the moral of the story: you must go and confront your fears -- with a professional instructor! And I promise that you will not only NOT go down the hill backwards, you will have a very delightful day. The goal is to LEARN how to ski first, THEN you go up the bigger hill.
Can you turn left to a stop?
Can you turn right to a stop?
Can you make two turns to a turning stop?
Can you get up after falling down?
Can you prevent yourself from sliding backwards?
Your goal should be to simply answer these questions in the affirmative.
But there are other little tricks -- like dressing appropriately, or how many ski socks should you wear (one pair!), or how to carry your skis without breaking into a rage -- stuff like that, that an instructor can help you with.
Somewhere nearby there must be a happy little Ontario ski area just calling out to you. Go on a warm morning or afternoon (but not too warm), and buy a rental/lesson/bunny hill package for yourself (that means leaving the kids and hubby home). I know, I know. It can be expensive. But it might not be that bad. Go at your own pace; feel no pressure. And enjoy!
Who knows? Perhaps you will become so enamored of the sport, you become a junior ski instructor yourself (I bet you'd be great at it). And then you'd've got a foot in the door: seasons passes for the family at really low prices, and equipment deals that work for most working families.
For me, the only way I can bring a little summer into my winter is to ski. I would go crazy without that sort of activity.
Just remember, no leaning, no twisting; just stay over the middle of both of your skis, and point BOTH feet where you want to go. (You can practice that right now, in fact, sitting: Just have your feet flat on the floor in front of your chair and, rotating your lower legs, simultaneously point both feet left, right, left, etc. Imagine that there is a pin right through the middle of your foot (and ski): your toe goes left and your heel goes right, and vice versa. That is the primary steering skill in skiing (initially), and it can be done even standing up (in socks on a slippery floor). But notice that, when standing, it works best if your feet are a little bit apart, your ankles and knees are slightly flexed, your butt is lower to the floor, and your upper body is relaxed. Note how your whole leg rotates; notice too how you can rotate your feet swiftly or slowly.
But note: the goal is to rotate the foot as if there is a pin right through the center: toes go one way, heels the other. If you are just moving your heels, or just your toes, your balance point is off.
And now try this: Stand on one foot and try to turn the foot you are standing on. See? YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT TWISTING WITH OR AGAINST YOUR UPPER BODY! That is why BOTH feet/skis stay on the ground -- to eliminate twisting and to give you a solid and balanced stance.
This is all more than you wanted to know, I am sure. But I love this stuff.
Blessings!
Gnade
PS. To all readers: I am always available to provide skiing tips. Seriously.
Thanks for the photos. You look a lot younger when you're out on the slopes.
Brady,
Well then I guess I'll have to stay out on the slopes.
I am -- truly -- a very youthful-looking 45-year-old, as long as no one pays attention to my bald head, grey beard, or crow's feet (men can have crow's feet, right?). There is at the very least a lot play left in me. That I can still navigate my way down a mountain (with a hint of trepidation, I admit) signals that I am not quite ready to accept the total downhill slide.
Blessings and bliss,
Gnade
Nate,
I am a bit embarrassed by the mountains in the East, because, as you know, they are but foothills in many respects. Yes, Mount Washington is a rugged and nasty sort of place, beautiful all round, but the summit of Mount Washington is lower than the base lodge at Telluride -- by like 5,000 feet.
But in the end it is all a matter of vertical feet: how high above the surrounding peneplain any hill rises. At Sugarloaf we were pushing close to 3,000 continuous vertical feet, which might be about the same as Park City, Utah. Killington VT weighs in around 3,150 vertical feet, though it is not really continuous: there is some traversing involved.
But what sets the Eastern skier apart from the Western is really found in the quality of Eastern snow: slip atop a double black diamond at Sugarloaf, and one might slide a thousand feet into a forest of oak, birch and spruce. Slip on a double black in Vail, and one might fall into four feet of powder.
But I see two Missouri ski areas, Snow Creek and Hidden Valley, that might have called you out to test your mettle on skis. I mention these two hills because they are owned and operated by the same folks who operate the area I train at in New Hampshire. Have you cranked down Hidden Valley's 300 vertical feet this year? I hope so!
Gnade
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