John LaPlante

Even though the winters are cold here, we don’t get a lot of snow; according to= the University of Minnesota, the historical average is a mere 45 inches a year. The winds that arrive here from the western plains are simply dry.

Tuesday night we received 4-5 inches, which, by comparison with the seasonal average, is what we call a “powder dump” around here.

Sadly, riders don’t get to enjoy it that much. First of all, there’s so little terrain compared with the number of skiers and riders that it gets tracked out pretty quickly.

And if it’s not tracked out? The grooming machines attack it. Seriously. I once saw a groomer steaming up the hill, mid-day, wiping out the powder.

Yikes.

Then again, so many people here depend on groomed surfaces, especially ski racers, for whom the icier, the better.

Not all Midwestern areas are so cursed. For example, Indianhead, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and on the leeward side of Lake Superior winds, gets about 300 inches a year. Boyne Mountain, much further south in the state, claims 140 inches a year. Lutsen, in Minnesota and along Lake Superior but along its windward side, says they get only 114.

Snowmaking, as you can see, is rather important for the region.

As a kid, you waited and waited for Christmas, didn’t you? As you grow older, that sense of anticipation may be replaced with the wait for your first turns on the snow. Happily, I didn’t have to wait until Christmas.

Today I made my first turns, though this is probably the latest that I’ve ever had to wait in a season. The problem hasn’t been the snow, but a variety of work and family issues, as well as the fact that the local hills started their season later than they have in some other years.

A snowfall last night, combined with bluebird skis, got me in the mood to make a quick run, even if it was on skis.

Skis?

Yes, skis. I haven’t yet retrieved my board from the shop, where I had to take it after some of the fastening hardware had worked itself loose. Besides, my one-day excursion on skis last year convinced me that I didn’t want to lose the ability to
ski.

Ski boots vs. Snowboard boots
Once I got to the parking lot of the ski area, I realized, once again, that there are trade-offs no matter what you put on your feet. I like being able to tighten down my ski boots, but hate how heavy they are.

Snowboard boots are much more walkable than ski boots, but the distance from my car to the base area was short, so I opted to change in the parking lot. Doing that was actually easier than carrying the boots–they’re bulking and 8 pounds each–to the lodge and changing there.

The Advantages and Disadvantages of Poles
I must have looked fairly odd, since I was sporting my year-old Obermeyer jacket and toting 30-year old cross-country skis with orange-sized baskets. To make me look further out of place, the poles are all knotty and made out of bamboo, looking like you’d use them for an old-school fishing day. Never mind, at least they have straps. (My regular ski poles have detachable straps, which have disappeared somewhere into the clothing black hole.)

Though snowboarders, lacking poles, can get into trouble in the flats, they’re sometimes better off in the lift line without them. On skis, you’re pretty much at the mercy of your poles to get you up to the starting line. But if the snow near the lift is as hard as ice–as it was today–poles may not be as helpful as a free foot that the snowboarder uses to skate with.

Ice skating and Skiing
So how did I do skiing? It was a bit rough. For the first half of my 90 minutes, my preferred method of starting a turn was to go back to the wedge. Only later did I start moving towards making direct-to-parallel turns.

The experience made me think that skating (ice, in-line, or otherwise) is good practice for skiing. Of course, it doesn’t help at all with snowboarding.

Anyway, after I was done, I called the shop. My board is ready. Next time out, it’s back to snowboarding for most of the season. But regardless of what equipment is on my feet, it’s great to be on the snow.

Looking back at my notes from the Minnesota Ski & Snowboard Expo, I noticed one glaring omission from my blog entry on the subject: The excitement I felt while walking from the parking lot to the convention center. It was almost enough to give me the giggles. And I’m not a person given to giggles.

There’s something joyous about riding or skiing that is hard to understand. Walking through a cavernous room with cement floors, walking from table to table, isn’t in itself interesting. But it’s an in-the-flesh counterpart to those pre-season films put out by Warren Miller and everyone else. The sensations aren’t as great, perhaps, but being able to peruse trail maps, look at new gear, and share conversations with other enthusiasts is energizing.

I came home today after a long weekend trip to visit family in Michigan, which is home to over 30 ski areas. Skiing and riding in the Great Lakes state isn’t about epic terrain; it’s about enjoying the winter and doing so close to home.

It’s a sad irony, then, that even though I lived in the state for 30 years, I never stepped into a pair of skis or onto a snowboard until I was living elsewhere.

Since moving away, I have gone riding at three ski areas in the state. Two, Indianhead, and Big Powderhorn, are in what residents call Yooperland (the Upper Peninsula) while a third, Boyne Mountain, is in the Lower Peninsula (that’s the part of the state that looks, from space, like a mitten).

Whenever I visit my Michigan family in the winter, I think of going riding. But so far, I’ve never combined a family visit with a ski area visit. The time that I have in the state is typically too short, nobody in my family who lives there skis or rides, and I don’t feel comfortable going by myself. Doing so strikes me as rude, or at the least, passing up some more valuable opportunities for sitting around the table playing Euchre (a popular pastime in Michigan), enjoying a chilled beverage over conversation, or taking in one of several activities together.

My total days spent riding this season has been, so far, a stunning number: Zero. If my Thanksgiving Day vacation had been longer, I might have thought of making the 1.5 to 2 hour drive to visit some of the better-known areas. But it wasn’t, so I didn’t.

Today I had to fly back home to cold but snowless Minnesota. Wouldn’t you know it? Michigan experienced a snowstorm overnight, and I had to drive through 6 inches of snow to get to the airport. (OK, I had to drive through 6 inches of the driveway; the highway department did a good job of clearing the major roads.)

Though Michigan is nothing like Aspen, the day did remind me of Aspen in one respect: The best snowfalls usually come on the days that I’m leaving down.

One way to get ready for the new winter season is to visit a ski and snowboard show. In mid-November I attended Minnesota Ski & Snowboard Expo, held at the Minneapolis Convention Center.

When I walked through the door, I had my doubts. After all, the ballroom looked about the size of a Target, without a grocery store. That’s actually a generous space, but for some reason I was expecting more.

A Bungee Device?
The first thing I noticed after entering was the “Euro-bungie,” a ride available for $7. I was only mildly interested, and not enough to part with the cash, so I watched briefly, took some photos, and walked on. I’ve seen such a device at the base of Buttermilk, but I’ve always thought of it as more of a kid’s toy than anything else.

A Sliding Experience for the Kids
If you’re going to have an indoor show, you really can’t re-create the alpine environment. But one ski area did give kids the chance to experience some sliding.

First, you’d put on some ski boots. These weren’t typical ski boots, though. The bottom of the boots were covered by a rectangular, smooth piece of plastic that allowed the boots to slide with minimal friction. In place of a snow-covered hill was a wooden ramp covered with a plastic rug. The rug (or mat or something approximating the two) had bristles, like a driving mat at a golf course. The difference (aside from the color) was that the bristles were spaced further apart from each other.

The “customers” (there was no fee but you did have to sign a waiver) would walk up the steps to the ramp and then “ski” down. Obviously there was no turning involved, and there was no option for “snowboarding.” Still, it’s a way to get some kids introduced to something that is essential to alpine sports–sliding down a hill.

Trampoline Shows
There was also an area for trampoline shows, sponsored by yet another ski area in the state. It had the kind of fake alpine backdrop that you’d expect to see on a low-budget carnival ride. It did set the mood, though only barely, and the show could have been fine without it. (There was no similar backdrop for the “ski hill” I just described.)

There were two trampolines, side by side. Some athletes performed flips, splits and other tricks. Interesting, but what does all that have to do with snowboarding or skiing?

Freestyle skiers and riders train on trampolines to perfect the aerial arts, so the jumping gymnasts dismounted, put skis and snowboards on their feet, and went back up on the trampolines. They did various grabs and other maneuvers, but my camera wasn’t equipped to get any non-blurry photos, so sorry, no photos.

The Fake Terrain Park
Yet another ski area hosted a mini-terrain park, and invited their performance team to give a demonstration.

A series of rollers–think of the things that boxes go on as they move along an assembly line–served as both the slope and the snow, and lead to rails of various sorts. I’m not terribly knowledgeable about freestyle so I’m not going to try to name the kinds of rails the people used. I think there were supposed to be regular “shows,” but I never waited for one to take place. Instead, I watched for a few riders and skiers to make laps on their own. Compared with the view from the top of a terrain park, this non-exhibition exhibition.

The Exhibits
The real attraction for me was the chance to talk with representatives from ski areas, equipment companies and the like. In this regard the show did not disappoint.

Some of the exhibitors had little to do with skiing or snowboarding, such as a local newspaper or radio show. Others, such as a group of people who offered a teeth-whitening session for a “ski show special price,” reinforced the stereotype of alpine enthusiasts as being wealthy people focused on appearances.

There was some sort of car on display, though I forget the name. I don’t think it an obvious alpine vehicle such as a Subaru or a Range Rover, and it probably wasn’t even a car that could get your heart racing during the summer, such as a Porsche or even a Chrysler convertible.

Of course, most of the exhibits were, thankfully, more directly related to skiing and snowboarding. I spent quite a while talking with a fellow from the Cable, Wisconsin, area. It’s a haven for cross-country activity, including the American Birkebeiner, an annual race. I don’t write much about cross-country skiing. But I can see getting more involved in the nordic scene if I were living in the right setting. At the show I got a lesson in how cross-country trails are groomed.

There were also exhibits about ski racing, which is a big deal in Minnesota, especially among high school students.

Hoigaards, a big presence in the local retail market, set up a mini store that had a soup-to-nuts inventory. I thought briefly of buying a Rossignol Jeremy Jones board (last year’s model) for $300, a good markdown from $500 from a year ago. But it’s not different enough the board I already own to merit a purchase. The store was overly crowded, and I left it to return to the rest of the show. That was too bad, as there was plenty of room in the ballroom behind the store to spread out the goods.

Ski areas represented
A number of ski areas in Minnesota were represented, as you might expect. Many were within the Twin Cities metro region and thus, depending on where you live, with an hour’s drive. They included Afton Alps, Buck Hill Elm Creek, Hyland Hills, Trollhaugen, Welch Village, and Wild Mountain.

Andes Tower Hills–like the ski areas listed above–is yet another vertically challenged location in Minnesota. Unlike the others, it’s a 150-mile drive from Minneapolis. Why they showed, I’m not sure, as I doubt that many people will make the trip. Lutsen, the best ski area in the state and one of the two best in the Midwest in terms of terrain, was represented as well.

And of course there were exhibits for destination resorts from the Rockies. I picked up a trail map and nice four-mountain poster from Aspen, where I’ve been blessed to spend
a lot of time over the years. Steamboat sent someone, and I said “Say ‘Hello’ to Shannon for me,” though I’m not sure that registered. (Perhaps I came across as a stalker.)

Silver Mountain had a great gimmick: Sign up for a free season pass. There was a catch, of course. You have to stay in one of the resort’s properties. The representative from Taos Ski Valley was less than enthusiastic. Maybe he saw my “Grays on Trays” t-shirt and was anti-snowboarder, or maybe he was just bored. The person representing three areas in Michigan’s Upper Peninsular (vertical feet: 600; driving distance from the Twin Cities: 5 hours) wasn’t terribly friendly, either. Given the proximity of booths from many other ski areas, you’d think that friendliness would be a higher priority.

Minnesotans seem to like Montana resorts. Perhaps they’re more willing than other people to put up with the temperatures there, which are colder than those in Colorado or Utah. Whitefish, Montana sent someone, as did Moonlight Basin and Big Sky.

From my experience, ski areas in Utah don’t do much to market themselves here, and I saw only one place–Park City–send a rep, and he was a Minnesota resident.

One thing I like about going to shows like this is learning about ski areas I didn’t know about, or learning a particular feature of one I already know. For example, Big White touts itself as the second-largest ski area in British Columbia, though I’ve read other things that made me question that claim. I also enjoyed learning about Banff and the Lake Louise region, with three great ski areas For various reasons I’ve said for several years now that my next move will be to Calgary. Despite whatever negatives that move would bring, it would put me within a 90 minute to 2-hour drive from some good terrain. (For my 2 hour drive, by contrast, I get all of 700 vertical feet!)

As for gear, I didn’t spend a lot of time looking around, even though a number of snowboard companies were present. I did chat with a representative from Head, who couldn’t tell me much (he was a skier), but he did send me a catalog a few days later, which has made for some good reading.

Freebies
At the Breckenridge both I surrendered some marketing information in exchange for a chance to win a 4-day stay-and-ski package. Come to think of it, I surrendered various pieces of information at several booths in hopes of getting freebies. Those hopes have gone unfulfilled, since no one has called me since the show. Wandering through the tables prompted the question of when I should fill out a contest entry. There were four questions in play.

“How much effort is required?” Usually the contests asked for the same thing: Name, address, phone number and e-mail address. You could sometimes omit the phone number of e-mail address, but you better leave some contact information. After all, if they can’t find you, they can’t give you the prize.

“What’s the value if I win?” To use a silly example, an all-expense paid week-long trip would be more valuable than a pair of gloves.

“What’s the cost of claiming the prize if I win?” This question is less obvious but important. One ski area was giving away a pair of free lift tickets. Depending on when and how you purchase the tickets, the prize could save you close to $200. That’s great. But you still need to pay for transportation to the place, plus get lodging and food. On the other hand, the prize from Breckenridge was an all-inclusive trip, which made it enticing.

A final question concerns the most likely outcome of entering any contest: You’ll be put on a mailing list. So you have to ask “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” For all the furor sometimes directed at “junk mail,” mail is not junk if it is informative, entertaining, or educational. Even if your chances of actually visiting Mount Snowmore in the next five years are minimal due to finances, jobs or family commitments, you might enjoy getting stuff in the mail.

If you can go, do it
If you’re able to attend a ski and snowboard expo, give it a go. Sure, you may have to pay an entrance fee as well as a fee for parking. On the other hand, it’s a good way to get your mind ready for the snowboarding season, especially if you live far from some good-sized mountains. Pick up a few trail maps for bedside reading and sweet dreams of powder days, carving slopes and the joy of riding. Learn about the latest in gear, and share your enthusiasm with other alpine enthusiasts.

For a variety of reasons I haven’t made it out to the snow yet, which means that my “snowboarding” this season has been limited to getting vicarious thrills from other web sites.

Allie, the author behind the blog Vancity Allie, describes herself as “a 24 year-old Vancouver girl who loves and writes about everything ‘Vancouver’ and West Coast.” Snowboarding is one of the topics she covers. (Click here for the snowboarding archives.)

Check out one of her recent posts for some good photos from Whistler Blackcomb, other spots in British Columbia, Steamboat, Mammoth and other destinations I’d like to visit someday.

Some people say that snowboarding has no relationship with skiing, other than sharing an alpine environment.

I’m not sure that I agree with that statement, but regardless, don’t overlook the significance of that shared environment. Even if that’s all that skiing and snowboarding have together, then they’re close cousins. They both give us a way to enjoy an alpine environment that invigorates the spirit and renews the mind.

David Healy writes about Skiing’s Power To Heal. Though Healy is a skier, riders can appreciate it. He talks about how being in the mountains and sharing tracks with friends old and new made valuable contributions to his life, especially in responding to some significant trials.

Did he overstate the case? Perhaps. Or maybe not. You decide.

I’m always on the lookout for reports of interesting and prominent people who are also snowboarders, so I caught an item about the man who will be the next secretary of the treasury.

The Economist says that Tim Geithner, age 47, is a snowboarder, in addition to being president (for now) of the New York Federal Reserve.

Conor Dougherty, who writes at a Wall Street Journal blog called “Real Time Economics” is disappointed that Geithner isn’t also a skateboarder, as first reported in some press accounts.

Dougherty offers some reasons why snowboarding is preferred to skateboarding:

There are some theories as to why surfers and snowboarders have outdone skaters in seeking political office. Surfing and snowboarding tend to cost more, and this may act as a social filter.

Also, a lot of people start surfing and snowboarding in middle age. It’s certainly possible to pick-up skateboarding later in life, but few adults can stomach the time and pain commitment that learning skateboarding requires. (Emphasis added)

So if you think snowboarding is hard to learn, consider this: At least it isn’t as punishing as skateboarding. (Falling on soft snow is one thing; falling onto concrete is another.)

The Secretary of the Treasury, by the way, is fifth in line for the presidency.

Some people don’t think of heading to the hill until after Thanksgiving. Not me. Unfortunately, I’ve been thwarted three times already. Worse, it’s been by my own carelessness, which means that it’s time for a little session of “do what I say, not what I do.”

On the first attempt I drive 40 minutes to a local hill, ready for a few hours of fun. I stop by the office and pick up my season pass, which I had purchased online. I walk around the base area, scoping out which runs are open.

I go to the car, get retrieve the folding chair and piece of cardboard that I have stored as a temporary fitting room, and put on my boots.

Next I take the snowboard out of the car, look at my option in lifts, and walk to one of them. I get up close to the place where you load the chair, put my board on the ground, get ready to adjust it, and see … that I left my powerstraps at home!

(In the photo, the powerstrap is the largest object you see. It goes directly over the top of your boot. The ladders–the thin plastic bands with ratchets–feet into it.)

I had taken the powerstrap off the bindings over the summer so that I could place the highback flat on the board for easier storage. So it was change into shoes, put the board away, and head home.

(Could I have rented a board? Yes. But I don’t like strap bindings or rental boards.)

The second trip–the same day–I returned with the powerstraps. It’s walk over to a place to get my bindings ready, and when I look down, one binding is missing a ladder. Worse, it’s missing the fastener required to hold the right rear side of the binding in place!

So it’s … take off the boots, put the board in the car, and drive home, stopping at the shop along the way.

I ask if they can fix it.

“We can’t do it today; we will have to order the parts.”

“That’s OK,” I tell the employee. “My day is shot anyway; I’m not going back a third time.”

So today I have a rare opportunity for mid-week, daytime riding. Except there’s one problem: My board is in the shop.

No mind, I decide to take my skis for their once-a-season trip. There’s a ski area that offers a mid-day pass for only $10. There’s not much to it, but it has its charms, and I’d like to see what they’ve got new for the season.

I load up the skis, boots and poles and drive away. I see the hill in a distance. Though the place is small (as is typical for around here, it has only 300 feet vertical, max), the snow is well-groomed, and glistens in the sunshine. This is going to be a good day!

Except.

When I pull in the parking lot I notice that no lifts are running. I walk around the base area and note what is new. Interesting.

Then I walk towards the ticket office to ask what’s going on. Another guy greets me. “I came here to ski,” he says. “What happened?”

We talk, and soon an employee emerges from beyond the locked door of the ticket office. She tells us that until Thanksgiving, they’re on a 3pm-9pm schedule.

“But your web site made me think that you’d be open,” the other fellow says. (At least he looked, which is more than I can say.)

“Didn’t you check the yellow banner in the corner?,” she asks.

She agrees to look at the site again, to make sure that the proper announcement is there.

I get ready to head home. At least this time, I don’t have to remove my boots. At home, I check the web site. There’s no banner, but the hours are clearly stated.

So if you haven’t died laughing, here’s your message: Don’t try this at home. At the start of the season, check your gear before you leave home to make sure that it is intact and working well, and before you get in the car, make sure the lifts are running.

At least I remembered to take my coat with me!

At least two three ski areas in North America are introducing a conveyor load lift this season: Boyne Mountain, in Michigan, is installing one. Okemo (Vermont) is introducing one, too as is, Mount Snow, also in Vermont.

No, this isn’t your belt system on the bunny hill that starts at point A and ends at point 5 100 feet later. This is a conveyor merged with a regular chair. The following video, from Mt. Snow, illustrates how it works.

[youtube:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-J5cTb9zKeU]

No more skating to get to the lift–at least, no more skating after you’ve gotten to the place where the conveyor starts.

I would guess that the advantages of such a system are this: 1. No more jostling around of skiers and riders so close to the lift; 2. Everyone who ride on the same chair gets to the chair at the same time–no wondering whether Joe is going to make it; 3. No more uncertainty of where to stop and wait for the chair, since the lift can be positioned appropriately.

(Hat tip to Martin Griff).