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It’s no secret that some “Green” groups don’t like ski areas. But here’s a relatively new–to me, at least–threat to the ability of snowboarders and skiers to enjoy their winter sport.

Arizona Snowbowl, near Flagstaff, sits high in the mountains. But it doesn’t get much snow, so the management would like to put in snowmaking operations, using recycled water.

Will ski operations be crippled by religious claims?

The June 8 edition of the Wall Street Journal has an article (“Tribes Invoke Gods to Block Wastewater Snowmaking”) about a lawsuit that has stopped the operation. (Subscription required; this temporary link will work for a while for non-subscribers).

Thirteen Indian tribes say that the god-like mountains would be offended by snowmaking, and have filed suit under the Religious Freedom Restoration Act.

That seems a far stretch. The RFRA was implemented to keep governments from forbidding the free exercise of religion. If the Snowbowl can make snow, that doesn’t prevent the Indians from holding religious ceremonies. It does, however, defile land that they hold sacred. That land, by the way, is now owned by the tribes or the resort, but the U.S. government.

Eric Borowsky, an owner of the resort, says “Every federal project is now going to be held hostage to any Native American saying, ‘Boy, that area is significant to me.'” Howard Shanker, a lawyer for the tribes, dismissed the claim that “we’re going to run out and claim every mountain to be holy.”

Winter is getting underway in the southern hemisphere. On the Snow shows that resorts in Australia are developing a base, though if you click through to resort-specific information, you’ll find that precious little terrain is actually open. Expect things to be underway within two weeks.

Somebody in New Zealand recommended Mt Ruapehu, on North Island. I don’t know if it’s any good–it’s not in the On the Snow database, though oddly enough, there’s a story about it on the site’s front page for the country.

The site for Ruapehu is down at the moment, but take a look at the videos. There’s nothing unusual there. But one of them, in which the camera trails snowboarders down an open field of snow, is encouraging. Here in the northern hemisphere with a tight travel budget, it’s the best I’m going to get for a while.

It may sound counterintuitive, but some people argue that safety devices actually increase risk. The shorthand version is that it leads to overconfidence, and in turn stupid actions.

Recently I had a discussion on this topic with an economist on his blog. Here’s what he said about risk and safety equipment:

The Peltzman Effect – The Good and The Bad

Each year there is a bicycle safety rally held here in Mankato. Festivities include a bicycle obstacle course as well as other activities, and folks can buy discounted helmets. If the past is a good indication, the helmets will be of standard quality – nothing very fancy. But what do you expect to get for a bike helmet that costs less than $10?

Absent will be a discussion about the Peltzman Effect. For those unfamiliar with the Peltzman effect, Sam Peltzman taught us that when people take safety precautions such as wearing seat belts and bicycle helmets, they take more risks. Absent as well will be a discussion about evidence that shows that drivers are less careful around cyclists with helmets. The policy implication is that mandating the use of safety equipment will be self-defeating, at least in part.

The Peltzman effect can be used positively, though. One of my goals this summer is to learn how to rollerblade. I have never skateboarded, roller-skated, skied, or done any such activity – until now. But there are other things I like to do, and I don’t want to get myself all smashed up in the process of learning a new skill. Since I play guitar, I bought wrist guards. Since I sometimes use my head for useful stuff, I bought a helmet. Since I sustained a severe knee injury 8 years ago which left my right knee sore, stiff, and tender, I bought knee guards. But since I’m just learning to rollerblade, the added padding allows me to take more risks while I learn. Maybe by the end of the weekend I’ll have learned to propel myself for a distance longer than 15 feet (the width of my driveway).

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I left a detailed comment, which was reproduced and commented upon in a subsequent post.

A Modified Peltzman Effect?
In response to my earlier post on the Peltzman Effect, “Grays on Trays” writes:

Ride a bike or motorcycle, and you’ll find that it’s hard to make a corner and stand upright if you’re going very, very slowly.

You might think, on a snowboard, that the thing that a novice needs to do is to go very slowly, and on very flat ground.

Wrong! Both situations dispose a novice to the nasty experience that we call “catching an edge,” which results in either a “butt plant” or a “face plant,” a slam to the ground.

So how to avoid catching an edge AND deal with the fear of going too fast? That’s where the protective gear comes in. It just may give the snowboarder the extra confidence required to travel a little bit faster, on a little steeper terrain, and thus enter a situation wherein the probability of catching an edge is REDUCED.

I probably have not explained this as well as I should have, but the phenomenon is real. I’ve lived it. Gear that in one situation might lead to excessive risk taking can lead to “risk taking” that is actually more prudent than the alternative.

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Perhaps we can call it the GraysOnTrays effect, but the Peltzman Effect seems to be at play in some way shape or form: wearing safety equipment changes the behavior of people. But in this case, the snowboarder is looser and more relaxed when padded up, leading to more safety rather than less.

In my case, the PowerMom has remarked that I look stiff when I try to scoot around on my rollerblades. I’m padded to the gills – although I could try the bubble wrap to protect the PowerBooty*. Part of the stiffness is that I have chronic lower back pain. Part is fear of getting hurt, I admit. But how do I gain the confidence to loosen up**, short of wrapping myself in Sertas?

*I know I’d look ridiculous wearing bubble wrap. But I’m 42 years old, married, and have two kids. Who do I have to impress?

**My first job was working as a bus boy at Bishop’s Cafeteria in downtown Sioux City. We used trays to carry the dishes from the floor to the dishroom. The trays had very short sides and it seemed that the piles of dishes would easily crash to the floor. So I started out carrying the full trays very cautiously. My boss told me to loosen up and he showed me how I could move when I was relaxed. He took a tray full of dishes and spun around, shoving the tray of dishes back and forth. Nothing budged. I relaxed after that.

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That’s right! Use your age as a leverage for trying new things.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.