End of the Teaching Season.

Yesterday was the end of my teaching season.

What, you say. Hasn't it has been over for weeks?

Well yes it has. The last lesson I gave was sometime in late March. But the hill where I teach went on for another week or two. And last night, we remembered the season.

If you've never thought of it, you might be surprised at the number of people required to keep a ski area open.

There are, customers aside, at least six important groups of people who make a day area work: owners, office staff, lodge staff (kitchen, primarily), hill and other maintenance (groomers, snow makers, lift operators), ski patrol, and instructors.

Last night our little area had its "Annual Instructor & Patrol Spring Banquet." Though instructors got the top billing, the event was really more a celebration of ski patrollers than anything else. After the meal, there were awards for best rookie patroller, most spirited patroller, and so forth. No such awards for instructors.

Then again, I don't begrudge the patrol for any commendations they receive or wish to bestow on its members. At a recruiting open house, I learned that ski patrollers have to undergo OEC (Outdoor Education Care) before the season starts, and do dryland training. as well. Something about walking up the hill on Saturday mornings. In ski boots.

One curious thing that I noted about the evening: a large portion of the crowd seemed to be north of 40 years old. This is similar to my observations about snowsports journalists, and of ski club memberships. Perhaps younger folks do participate, but have very young children who keep them at home during the evening. I'm not sure. It did seem, from my limited observations, that many people knew each other for quite a while.

The evening ended with a long video that showed different parts of the season, from the snow-making operations to mid-season skiing and riding to bumps skiing to freestyle tricks. To be truthful, most of the soundtrack did not appeal to me. It would have been nice to see more snowboarding and less skiing. But overall, the video was a great reminder of the season.

NASJA 16: My NASTAR Experience (B)

Yesterday I explained how I got in a NASTAR race on a snowboard. But how did it go?

At the base of the mountain I had to ask where the NASTAR event was. "Take the Red Lady lift, and go off to your right," I was told. I did, and as I got to the area, called "Smith Hill," I certainly felt a little unusual.

The course itself was fenced off on either side, and the starting area was enclosed as well. A queue of fellow snowsports journalists, about 18 or so, were lined up just outside the area, waiting for their turn.

A snowboard is a great device for sliding down a mountain, but it's not so great for staying in one place. People were queued up not in a flat area but on a slope. I could stand in one heel side or toe side. Standing heel side for a prolonged time is difficult, but really, standing in line in either stance was difficult, since my board would have to be perpendicular to everyone else's skis.

I released the binding on my back soot, and awkwardly descended to the waiting area, step by by step. Sometimes the board would slip out from under me, and I had to work to get it back under my control.

In time I got to the starting gate. There were two starting gates, side by side. Skiers have no difficulty getting into position. On a snowboard, you may, as I did, have to get both bindings set at the gate. Fortunately it wasn't the case that you just slide up to the gate and go in the next instant.

The starter asked the name of the skier at the adjacent gate, and yelled that out to the record keeper. Then she did the same for me. During this time I was able to secure my back-foot-binding, and move myself into position. I would start out passing through two low posts, and I grabbed both of those to hold myself in place until the starter told us to go.

The courses are fairly close, and I certainly did not want to take out any skier. One, that would hurt. Two, that would harm skier-snowboarder relations, and I felt like I had to be on my best behavior. Given these concerns, I planned to leave the gate slowly, to give the skier time to get down the course before I did. Not that this was necessary; I would have lagged almost anyone in the event.

I had never participated in such an event, so I had no idea how closely spaced the gates would be. That played well into the "take it slow" plan; I took my time in figuring things out.

The first three gates were fairly closely spaced, so I was careful to make it past each one. No use getting disqualified so early. As my run was in the first hour of the event (and of the day), the course was in pretty good shape, or so I thought. Not too scraped off, not too icy, not too rutted.

After a few gates, the course opened up a bit, with the gates getting further apart. It was easier to navigate them, so I could go faster. "Just make each gate," I kept thinking. "No need to be a hero." That opportunity was long gone, of course, as was the skier on the other course.

When I got towards the end, I lost some speed. Bummer! And on the flat, too!

Having lived through that, I thought that it was time to take another shot. After all, it was a best-of-two format.

As I rode off to the bottom of the mountain to catch the next lift (you're thinking I was going to walk back up?), I felt pretty good about the event. No harm, no foul. No missed gates, no hit gates. I had no idea what my score was, however. For some reason--maybe it was just too high to say publicly?--there was no announcement on the loudspeakers. No mind, I made it through.

For the second run, I thought "Time to take it faster. I know how the gates are spaced, I did fine before, now use some speed."

The second run required the adjacent course. I thought that I ran faster, and sure enough, I did, though only by a second, or less. As I came to the finish line, I realized that I was again slowing down, not carrying my speed, and that I had forgotten many of the little mind tricks that I have
for speeding up my riding.

No use for that then, however. We each got two shots, and I had used mine up. It wasn't a bad start, though. I certainly don't have a racing setup. I've got an all-mountain freeride board, and I use a duck stance, for starters. But I'm willing to give it a try again next season.

NASJA 15: My NASTAR Experience (A)

A snowboarder on a ski racing course? Yep.

One common feature of the annual meeting of the National Association of Snowsports Journalists Association (NASJA) is a NASTAR event. NASTAR, which stands for the National Standards Race, is a means by which skiers (and participants are largely skiers) can assess their abilities to race.

The operations of NASTAR are all fairly complicated (see the Rules/Info page for more), but roughly speaking, an Olympic ski racer is timed on a course, and everyone else's score is referenced against his time.

There are also adjustments for a racer's sex and age, resulting, as in golf, in a handicap. Unlike a trip through a NASCAR course, which runs for hours, the trip down a NASTAR course will take 30 seconds. And that's if you're very slow. If you participate in NASTAR on a regular basis, you can track your progress over time, as the handicapping system allows you to compare your racing on Mount X in one year with your racing on Mount Y in the next year.

Each person at the annual meeting was given the opportunity to sign up for the race the day before. We were to be assigned to teams of 10 or so, which added another dimension to the event. Not only was each participant going to be stacked up with his prior performance (or in my case, setting a benchmark for future events), he would also be contributing to a team effort.

I had not thought of participating. After all, I have always thought of racing as a "ski thing." Skiers race. Snowboarders, if they do something other than cruise, hit the terrain park or the halfpipe.

But I got talked into it. One, the organizer of the event is someone I know, a person whose enthusiasm is infectious. Two, this trip was all about learning, doing new things, and exploring the broader world of snow sports. A timed race fit right in.

I had three objectives going into the event: don't get hurt, don't fall, and don't miss any gates. Happily, I met all three objectives.

More on that later.

Why I Hate Spring

Today it's snowing.

Good? Well, about a month ago it would have been good. But the local ski areas are long closed. There's been no snow on the ground for two weeks, so cross-country skiing is out. And there won't be enough snow to build a small kicker on which to try out some jumps.

So all we're doing with this snow is delaying the inevitable, and messing up traffic.

Bring on the warm weather already, along with golf, cycling, and boating!

A Trail Map You Can't Wrinkle

The solution to ripped, wrinkled trailmaps may be a cloth.

While at Crested Butte a couple of weeks ago, I was given a localized version of The Spanky. Short for "Sports Hanky," the spanky is a cloth that can be used as a fabric for cleaning off your goggles, and more importantly, for finding your way around the mountain.

A key element to the product, according to the company's web site, is a "fabric that will not scratch today's high tech len's surface." They claims that it's safe for goggles and camera lenses as well.

Buried in the cloth is a trail map of Crested Butte. I always like having a trail map with me, but paper maps quickly become wrinkled, ripped, torn, and worse, rendered into several pieces through repeated acts of placing in and removing from coat pockets.

That can't happen with the Spanky. Though mine get a bit wrinkled and in need of cleaning, it's all in one piece, even after three days on the mountain and the trip home.

The Spanky doesn't take the place of a paper map, however. Before heading out to a mountain for the first time, get a paper map and study it carefully. Take a look at the statistics, such as elevation and lift hours, that aren't on The Spanky. Get familiar with the names of slopes that you'd like to visit. The names of black trails show up very well on my copy, but the names of green trails are harder to see, and some of the blue names are very difficult to read at all.

The company has over 40 resorts represented in its inventory, including 11 mountains in Colorado alone. You can get one for under $15--$8.95 plus shipping, handling, and tax as applicable.

If you're going to a place for just a day or two, The Spanky is on the spendy side. But if you're going to be somewhere 3 or more days, it may be more worthwhile.

Words I Can't Imagine Saying

There are several words and phrases that I can't imagine saying, when it comes to snow and mountains:

"Ski boots are so much nicer than snowboard boots."

If there's any one thing that makes me hesitate at the thought of getting on skis again, it's getting in ski boots again.

"I like the extra-sturdy weight of skis."

There's another thing that makes me hesitate about getting on skis again: their weight. Carrying a snowboard is so much easier than carrying skis, and poles.

And did I mention that walking in snowboard boots is much easier than walking in ski boots?

“We skied three days hard, so we took a break and didn’t ski yesterday.”

I heard this comment once this winter. I could understand it--the person who said this was about 60 and thus likely had plenty of opportunities for on-mountain activity. But for me, there are too few big-mountain days. If I'm physically able to get out there, I will be there.

Are Adult Riders in Denial?

Are adult snowboarders psychologically underdeveloped? That's the suggestion of Geoff Olson, who writes at CommonGround.ca.

Drawing heavily on Neil Postman, Olson laments the conflation of the generations:

The author held that childhood, as it is commonly understood, is disappearing, in large part because parents have lost control of the information environment in which their children are raised. The flip-side is that adults are becoming increasingly juvenilized through mass media.

Adults, in this viewpoint, are in denial about the inevitable decline of their bodies: "older, amateur athletes ... blow their knees" out on sports because they are "playing something not designed for 40-plus bodies."

Writing in the Sacramento Bee (in an article widely distributed through other papers throughout the nation), Cynthia Hubert picks up on the theme of "boomeritis."

Yet read past the cautionary tales in Hubert's piece, and you find some encouragement as well:

"The benefits of fitness in middle age "far outweigh the risks" of suffering an injury, said Bean, who is 35 and enjoys mountain biking, skiing and running. "The good news is that anyone of any age who is planning on participating in athletic activities can do some conditioning to decrease their risks."

(Dr. Meredith Bean is director of sports medicine at Kaiser Permanente Sacramento.)

There are risks, and then there are risks. Driving to the grocery store carries a risk. So does going to the top of a mountain on a snowboard and plunging down a double-diamond run on your first day.

In other words, you can't eliminate risk. Taking it on can be stupid and ill-advised, or it can be commendable and worthwhile.

"Progression" is a word used a lot in snowboarding. It means always improving, always learning. That's a good word to keep in mind. Take it slowly, take it incrementally, and you'll be fine.

How Much for a Quad Lift?

Wonder what those expensive lift tickets are for? As a business, ski resort operators hope to make a profit. But don't forget the expenses, including snowmaking and lifts.

For this last season, Wolf Creek, Colorado, spent $3.4 million on a high-speed quad, which replaces a two-seat lift.

Are Customers Idiots? Company Official: We're Selling Eye Candy

This next item caught my eye from the March edition of Transworld Business:

Until recently, bindings have been the most utilitarian member of the hardgoods family. As the workhorses, bindings serve their purpose dutifully while constantly being upstaged by the pampered eye candy that is the snowboard. But no more—bindings in ’08 are coming out, busting loose with new looks, exotic touches, and some serious attitude.

“Binding sales are by far the most affected by shelf appeal—they’re basically fishing lures,” says Rossignol Snowboarding’s National Sales Manager Eric Hutchison. ”If they don’t pop off the shelf, they won’t sell. So rather than spend R&D dollars on improving an already-great binding, we spent our dollars on making it look like a great binding so the customer will be more inclined to consider them as an option.”

What was that about a sucker being born every minute? Granted, design is part of manufacturing today (see: Apple computers, iPods, high-end automobiles, etc.)

Just as long as Flow doesn't make all their bindings look like something suitable for 11-year old gamers.

(Source: "2007/08 Binding Trends," Transworld Business, dated 3/21/07)

One Old Guy Who Won't Be Annoyed, Sorry

Image isn't everything, but it can help sell the goods.

I thought of that as I read through this profile of Danny Kass, a 24-year old snowboarding phenom turned businessman.

Kass started competing in skateboarding and then snowboarding events at a young age. By 17, he had a sponsor to pay some of his bills.

He started his own snowboard-themed company, and being a bother to adults was part of the plan:

Kass turned his love of a sport that annoys the grown-ups into two Olympic silver medals, a bunch of X-Games medals and his own company, Grenade Gloves, whose products, from outerwear to goggles to gloves, are sold in 25 countries, 600 retail outlets in the United States and online at www.grenadegloves.com.

Kass’ elder brother, Matt, is the company’s CEO, and Kass is the vice president. They do their own designs, with the object, he laughed, being to scare the adults.

This year, he said, it’s “loud, vibrant colors all mixed together like a paint spill.”

Actually, I'm not sure whether "annoying the grown-ups" is part of Kass's plan, or if it's simply the words of a reporter going back to a cliche.

To be truthful, I couldn't pick Kass's clothing from out of a pile of stuff at a sports shop if I had to. But if it is designed to annoy or scare the adults, I have this to say: so what?

I respect the enterprise of business, and everyone in business has to find some comparative advantage. If annoying the adults is the advantage that some business owners seek, well, that's the way it is. Just don't expect me to go along. The sport is too great, the mountains are too big, the rides are too sweet, to let anyone else's attitude, or business plan, get in my way of enjoying a ride.

(Source: "Mike Celizic," Danny Kass is living the good life, Straus Newspapers, February 22, 2007)

NASJA 14: Crested Butte Peak

How about an introduction to Crested Butte, the mountain?

One of the better views of the highest point of Crested Butte comes from the top of the West Wall lift. That lift is on the west side of the ski area, but it's not on top of any wall. Look towards the top of this peak, however, and then you'll have something approaching a wall!

NASJA 13: A Few Words About Historic Crested Butte

One evening, our rather large group broke up into several smaller groups in search of dinner in historic Crested Butte. My group had dinner at The Last Steep, a low-key contemporary restaurant offering some Cajun touches. (For what it's worth, I got the special of the night, a pulled-pork burrito. It was good.)

There are actually three (at least) Crested Buttes. One is the mountain. The second is "Mt. Crested Butte." That's where the business operations of the resort are located, as well as most of the housing, including a lot of condos. Then there is Crested Butte, the old settlement. It's got a different feel from your typical base village.





Notice the old western-style store fronts.



It would have been nice to see more of the town, but with so much riding to do (and meetings to attend), I did not spend much time there. Perhaps another trip.

NASJA 12: Parlez-Vous Francais?

One thing you might get on a mountain rather than, say, at a baseball game, is an encounter with a visitor from outside the U.S.

The other day, I shared my first chair ride up Crested Butte with husband and wife. The man spoke to me, and said something about it being a good day. I said something in return, and he replied with a phrase that didn't sound like that of a native speaker. I think it was something akin to using the present tense to talk about an event that had already happened.

Then the man turned to the woman, and the two of them started talking in quiet voices. I couldn't hear most of what they said, but the sound was familiar.

So when he turned back in my direction, I said to the man in the best French I could muster "Etes-vous Quebecois?" ("Are you from Quebec?")

I had the right language (French) but the wrong country (Switzerland). For the next five minutes we carried on a conversation. Though it had been many years since I had spoken French, I could understand most of what he was saying. That was good, because, as he told me, "I do not speak much English."

The most difficult part for me was speaking in French. Perhaps I should have spoken in English, and him, in French. Most people can understand a language much better than they can speak it.

In decades past, winter sports (primarily skiing) held a certain appeal due to the mixing of cultures and languages. If you visit a destination resort in the U.S., you might still find that. So be prepared to dust off your college language classes!

NASJA 11: Snowboarding With Poles

Snowboarding with poles? What could be sillier than that? After all, in snowboarding, you rock back and forth between heel and toe, while on skis you rock from one side of the foot to the other.

I have read, on occasion, a recommendation for novices to try snowboarding with poles. But while at Crested Butte, I saw something I had never seen before: someone navigating an expert pitch while on a snowboard, and using skis.

Riding up the Paradise lift, you'll see some steep glades to your east. They're double diamonds. And who did I see coming through those glades, but a snowboarder with ski poles. It was an odd sight.

What gives? Perhaps the poles were for flatter sections--after all, you don't come out of terrain like that at a great speed. Perhaps they somehow assisted in making tight turns, though at the moment I can't figure out how that would happen.

Any thoughts? Leave a comment.