Power Ridge Rides Again!

For the first time in seven years the lights are on at Powder Ridge!  Ok, so many New England ski areas boast vertical drops of over  2,000 feet; and most are over  1,000, but still, the 22 trails, reaching 525 feet in the air, are a welcome re-appearance on the Connecticut skiing landscape.

First opened as Powder Hill in 1959, when people thought nothing of walking uphill in order to ski down, the new Powder Ridge Mountain Park and Resort will aim to make up in enthusiasm what it lacks in size.  The area has a history of innovation.  It opened the first four-person chair lift in New England in the 1970s and at the start of that decade the owners tried to leverage the off season qualities of a ski park to host a Woodstock-esque rock concert.  Pressure from area residents cancelled the concert, but crowds came anyway.   Big ideas continue to drive the new owner with year-round activities planned that include mountain biking, swimming, hiking, obstacle navigation, and tubing—in addition to snowboarding and old-fashioned skiing.  Multiple bars and restaurants might even make Powder Ridge, (easily accessible from interstate 91) a destination for socializing without any outdoor foreplay.

Two-thousand foot runs like the top-to-bottom trails at Powder Ridge can be thought of as small skiing.  But skiing small has its place.  Skiing small in Connecticut can mean skiing in the evening after work instead of watching reality TV, or running on a treadmill.  Skiing small can mean having time to learn to ski on a weekend afternoon after doing chores in the morning, and without the expense of an overnight away.  Skiing small can mean kids learning to ski even when moms or dads have no interest.  Skiing small can mean an urban high school student entertaining Olympic dreams. 

So, good for Powder Ridge!  And Mohawk Mountain, and Mount Southington, and Sundown and Woodbury.  These are places to play in the snow, to be outdoors, to stay close to home.  These are great places to ski! 

I love this graphic from the October 2011 issue of Ski Magazine!

What a great winter we had in the Northeast.  Whatever your reason, see you on the slopes next winter!

Tenth Mountain Musing

One winter in the 1990s I had the privilege of witnessing a reunion of WWII era Tenth Mountain Division soldiers when the New England Chapter of the National Association of the Tenth held its annual winter gathering at Mt. Cranmore in New Hampshire. Active duty mountain soldiers from Fort Drum, New York, joined the older men in an on-skis parade down the mountain before they mingled with other skiers and took part in the Hannes Schneider Meister Cup Race, a benefit event for the New England Ski Museum. Part of the museum’s mission is to remember the 10th Mountain Division whose members were heroes in the European war theater and ski industry pioneers when they returned home.

While American skiing took off in earnest after the 1936 Winter Olympics, where Hitler showcased his country’s athletes and facilities, the sport had been attracting enthusiastic thrill seekers for years before that event. At least one group of Massachusetts farm boys benefited from Roosevelt’s depression era Civilian Conservation Corp (CCC) when the Corp cleared a ski trail on Mt Greylock, outside Adams, MA. Rudy Konieczny and his brother were known to engage in moonlit hikes to the top of the hill and daring night time races back down. The lives of Rudy and two of his friends form the basis of the book The Boys of Winter Life and Death of the U.S. Ski Troops During the Second World War by Charles Sanders.

The first official trail, and the first American rope tow In Woodstock VT, put the eastern U.S. mountains in the spotlight, but even more historic was the meeting that was held at Bromley Mountain lodge in 1940. Four original “rock stars” of skiing, Minnie Dole, founder of the National Ski Patrol, Rodger Langley, first president of the National Ski Association, Robert Livermore, 1936 Olympic ski racer and Harvard grad, and Alex Bright, a Boston ski club member, together decided to lobby Washington to create a mountain division like the one that helped the tiny Finnish army hold their own against the great Russian machine in the rugged European mountains. Though never truly convinced of their need, George C. Marshall, Roosevelt’s Army Chief of Staff finally agreed to create a mountain division that would be recruited by the National Ski Patrol and include outdoor guides, mountain climbers, skiers, and other men who could live in the wilderness under extreme winter conditions.

Recruits included college and Olympic ski team members and coaches, mountain climbers and a few gifted athletes who were not skiers when they joined up. Some Europeans who were in the States to coach or teach established their citizenship in America just to join the Tenth. Though they developed techniques and gear that revolutionized the mountain experience (and later spurred commercial skiing in America) initially their potential role was not evident to the generals planning combat strategies. But late in the war, as American troops faced a stalemate in the battle with Italy, the Tenth Mountain Division did the impossible and climbed the Ria Ridge, in the cold dark cover of night. With no artillery support they fought and beat the elite German mountain soldiers holding Mt. Belvedere. Their surprise tactic and spirited audacity opened passage to the Po Valley.

During the winter and spring of 1945 the Tenth continued to push through the mountains with “stealth and verve and daring” as recorded in the diary of soldier Harris Dusenbury. They suffered heavy losses, 25 percent becoming casualties—the highest average casualty rate suffered in the Italian campaign. And yet, when Germany surrendered in May of 1945, these troops celebrated with at least as much enthusiasm as any other division---with a spring ski race on the mountainous border of Italy, Austria and Yugoslavia.

A love of the outdoors was instilled in the men of the Tenth as a result of both their training and their action. They brought that love home with them and taught a nation how to have fun, outdoors in extreme conditions. Their legacy was so much more than battles won. They brought a kind of fun to America’s hills and mountains that creates unique cross generational bonds among families and friends--relationships forged in the lodge by the fireplace and strengthened on the mountain in the elements.

Ski-Literacy

Well! Hiatus is over! For the past year I have been focused on completing the dissertation for an educational leadership degree. With that project on information literacy completed just in time for ski season, I am energized to do a little “blogging.”

Two recent expeditions, one to Mt Washington at Thanksgiving time, and another to the Traveler Restaurant yesterday, brought thoughts of “skiing literacy” to mind. In the recently renovated Mt Washington Hotel, now an Omni resort, the long wide hallways on the lower level provide a suitable gallery for poster-sized framed photos of early skiers -- on the slopes and in nostalgic après ski settings. In the restaurant, tables are arranged around long shelves filled with books and customers are invited to take up to three for free with the purchase of a meal. The skiing books displayed were written by such superstars as Billy Kidd and Jean-Claude Killy, next to Picabo Street’s autobiography Nothing to Hide.

The photos and the books are evidence that everything about the sport has changed and yet the essence is the same! Solid wood skis have morphed into today’s combinations of wood, foam, fiberglass, metals and composites; leather boots have been replaced by plastic ones; ski poles of bamboo are transformed by carbon fiber and graphite. Even the clothing—in one picture ski instructors are posing in their Nordic wool sweaters and knit stretch pants—can now be considered chic and warm without a natural fiber woven into the cloth. And where did the pompom adorned hats go? Are they tucked under high impact proof helmets? Being able to make comparisons—either because of knowledge that comes from experience or understanding that comes from inquiry—between what was and what is, is an element of any literacy.

Modern alpine recreational skiing developed in earnest after WWII, which means that many of the pioneers of the day are still walking (and skiing) among us. Their artifacts adorn any self-respecting ski lodge, mountain home or ski-town tavern since their “discovery” has none of the drama of an archeological dig-- they just have to be brought up from the basement or down from the attic and dusted off. Familiarizing oneself with the heritage of this wonderful sport by reading, taking time to look at pictures, and learning what to call the sticks hanging on the wall, are ways to become ski-literate, and will only enhance the exhilarating ride down the mountain.

Thanks for visiting--I have been on hiatus to focus on some other projects but I will write again soon!

Hop, lunge, squat, sit: Get in shape to ski!

This time of year in the northeast there is a new opening day announcement almost every morning. The big mountains opened in time to burn off Thanksgiving turkey while the smaller places are hoping to provide post-Christmas ham activity. So with only a few weeks before hitting the slopes it is time to whip ourselves into shape. This year, since my VCR is dead I can’t draw inspiration from my Jane Fonda fitness tape, so I wondered what encouragement I could find on the internet. A YouTube video by health and fitness coach Amelia Burton gave me lots to think about. I mean, should I really engage in an exercise that can improve my leg strength while being “one of the worst exercises for your knees, for your back, your lower back…” and on she goes? I was tempted to do the squats because she calls them “incredibly good” even though “bad squats are really dangerous!” She’s describing an exercise that doesn’t even involve lifting my feet off the ground and yet she cautions it may require that I confer with my personal trainer, fitness instructor, chiropractor, or physical therapist. Never mind those experts—I’m thinking if I engage in this activity someone should place an emergency call to my shrink! I may resign myself to just hitting the slopes with limp legs and risk falling a few times. How much more can it hurt? I just love Amelia’s description of her favorite exercise—it’s the one wherein you do not move, and yet, you should do it until your “legs are screaming.” Her lilting British accent hides a masochistic soul!! Bunny hops, traveling lunges, squats and wall sits. A fitness routine that includes these elements will see me down the mountain a few weeks hence with fashion flair, flawless technique and energy to spare. I need to get hopping, squatting, lunging, and sitting—so that I can hurl myself down a mountain with minimal risk of injury.

Moving Van Full of Skis

Moving forces you to prioritize. Un-pack the fajita maker first or find the wine glasses? Store the Christmas decorations or just put them up? (Only 75 days to Christmas and those boxes are on top of the Halloween ghouls anyway.) And who knew one could accumulate so much ski stuff? In my corner of the world it is a seasonal sport, but the equipment, clothes, accoutrements and doo-dads took up more than their 4 months share of the year in the moving van.

Starting with the skis… I mean one pair of feet; one pair of skis, right? And yet, I am sure I unpacked 8 of them. Ok, that included the strap on wooden child’s skis my sons scooted around on, but still, I am not counting all the ski Christmas ornaments or hat pegs. And I put the patio chair made from ski tips in a whole other category. The skis I transported from one home to the next were perfectly good, usable snow skis (mostly) that I just can’t part with. But only one pair has been under my Langes in the last 3 or 4 seasons.

There are the straight skis I bought at a bargain price just before the season in which I let myself be talked into “shaped skis” by my octogenarian skiing guru dad. They are practically brand new and I am quite sure I will clamp them to my boots at least one more time. The old blue Hart skis with the Marker swivel heel bindings were my first metal core planks and there is just no good reason to let them go. The fourth pair are my rock skis. You know, the ones that date from the season before your current skis and are intended to be used before snow covers the entire hill the first time out or when your last run boasts a melting “fountain mountain” and patches of green grass. Then there are the super long, super stiff pair, and the really short flexy pair—one for racing and the other for “bumps.” I am told that with age my knees will forbid the practice of either one and when that time comes I will ditch the skis—but until then? I mean I just can’t predict when I am going to make it to the Senior Olympic finals but I want to have the right pair of skis when I do! Most carefully transported were the current favorite pair of Rossi’s. Curved just enough to turn me down the hill with little more than a shift in weight, long enough to let me carve all the way through on a “hard packed” surface and short enough to allow me play time in the evenly spaced manufactured mogul field or carefully manicured glades. These are the skis that will stay zipped in their bag ready at a moment’s notice for a chance to have a mountain top experience. I suppose I could have left all the others in the house I vacated since this pair is the only one that actually gets snow time. The 8th pair too will come along anytime I relocate. Old, maple boards, sanded smooth and rounded on top, flat on the bottom. Rich, brown color with abstract wood grain curls and leather straps that held the cold wet boots of pioneer skiers. These hang on the wall as decoration and inspiration. It is a crazy sport made so easy with today’s equipment. With all this history and all these skis, there is just no excuse to stay inside when it snows—even if the new house does need work.