From Silver Mines to Olympic Gold

The Utah Mining Association reminds us that every day we are in contact with the products of mining.  From the smartphones in our palm to the vehicles we drive, nearly everything we touch in our modern world contains minerals and metals that have been mined—and Utah has an especially rich mining history.  The best way to observe and appreciate it is to go skiing!

green marks show the old bucket towers next to the new chair lift

One of the charms of the Park City ski resort in Park City, Utah is the In-Town lift which really does begin—in town!  Its route up the mountain, alongside the towers that once carried buckets of ore down the mountain, serves as a natural history lesson.  The City was discovered in 1868 by soldiers stationed in Salt Lake City looking for silver.  It was incorporated in 1884.  The town grew quickly—partly because of the modern conveniences it boasted:  electricity and running water.

Luckily for skiers, within 50 years silver ore mining began to dwindle, just as the winter sports industry began to gear up.  The first ski jump was installed on an old mine dump in 1930, and in 1963, with the help of a federal redevelopment grant, the town began to reinvent itself.  The J-bars, gondolas and chairlifts that would sweep people up to the summit were imagined and installed. Thanks to the miners, there were already routes through the mountains—following towers that ran cables for the ore buckets and cuts along the ridges where narrow gauge railroads had operated. By 1966 Sports Illustrated recognized a Park City (Treasure Mountain) slope as one of the best in the country. Old trail maps record the development of Treasure Mountain, Deer Valley and The Canyons, now all morphed into the giant Park City Ski Resort of today.  While mining silver ended in 1982, the town has thrived by hosting skiing and arts events ever since—the Olympics were held here in 2002 and the international Sundance Film Festival has been going strong since 1978.

The transcontinental railroad brought miners  dreaming of silver—today airlines bring skiers from around the world who channel gold medal runs on the slopes of Park City resorts.

Bota Bag Lesson

My dad was not a big drinker, so why the ski season bota bag, I really don’t know. But I can see him with it, in a Nordic sweater, the wineskin’s cord looped around his head and one arm so the leather pouch rested low on his chest in front of the other arm, pointing slightly upward.   A giant, three dimensional comma, filled with wine.   Surely in his imagination he was the image of the quintessential European skier…but as he led a parade of three little kids,  hats and tiny skis askew, followed by our mom, he was in reality, a little less cool than he was in his head.   I can remember him showing us how it was done.  He’d tip back his head, begin to squirt the wine into his mouth, then draw the nozzle of the sack farther and farther from his face until finally the wine was no longer meeting its intended target and he had rich, red liquid dripping from his nose and chin.  My brothers and I would crack up; my mother would roll her eyes which only encouraged him to direct the stream of wine at her.  He’d laugh at himself and sling the wine-skin behind him—skiing off only slightly embarrassed; confident that his technique was pretty close to classic.

Today’s commercially available renditions of the bota are latex lined leather sacks stoppered like a sport drink bottle.  The ancient origin is lost to history but the iconic Spanish version has emerged as a legacy to traditional personal liquid transport.   Shaped like a curved drop of water the traditional bota was handmade from goat skin that was dried and treated with certain tree bark extracts and vegetable tannins.  It was specially sewn in such a way that the seam was tightly sealed, stitches were turned to the inside and the bag was rinsed with “pez” (not candy but a hot liquid form of juniper resin that creates a waterproof coating when swirled into the flexible bottle).  After a decorative red cord is attached the traditional wine-skin is ready for use.

Sweet fizzy drinks will do ok in the plastic lined version, but not in the traditionally created one.  A "real" bota is perfect for wine—like wine the bags get better as they age and some say the flavor of the wine is enhanced after it lives in the wine-skin for a while.

Dad’s bota eventually became dry and brittle.  The man just didn’t drink enough wine to keep it supple through the years.   So, through him I learned an important ski lesson:  the key to continuous coolness is to drink wine with regularity.  Keep your bota close, and refill it often! 

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! 

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.

The Christianias

I remember "stems." I remember "christies." I remember "stem christies." But christianias? I don't remember those. In his 1947 book Invitation to Skiing Fred Iselin writes "...once you learn [the advanced stem turn], you'll be right next door to the most exciting family of turns in all skiing, the christianias. There's magic in the name, and magical is the sensation of doing them. Magical, too, will be the way you look on skis when you've mastered the christies, as they're called." He continues that these turns can only be attempted if all that has gone before has been mastered--the snow plow, the snow-plow turns, the stem turns, the controlled slide slipping. It all sounds so complicated! But once the mechanics became second nature, the lovely christiania turns allowed a skier to dance effortlessly down the slope.

In addition to being a magical skiing technique, Christiania is to some a magical place. A social experiment in the middle of Copenhagen, Denmark, Christiania is both a neighborhood and a tourist attraction that grew out of an abandoned military site. The stated mission of the community is "to create a self-governing society whereby each and every individual holds themselves responsible over the wellbeing of the entire community. Our society is to be economically self-sustaining and, as such, our aspiration is to be steadfast in our conviction that psychological and physical destitution can be averted." The legal status of Christiania is not exactly clear, but the community continues to evolve into a haven for non-conformists--part commune, part sanctuary; progressive and independent, one thousand people living outside the normal bounds of law and order.
Christiania, you have my heart

Bindings made the difference

The March 1978 issue of SKI features an article entitled "Bindings: they can change the way you ski." by D. Pfeiffer. In 1991 the International Journal of Sport Biomechanics published "An alpine ski binding with electrically modulated twist release," describing a toe piece with a "special solenoid activated mechanism that alters the binding spring constant." So yes, in anybody's book, bindings have made the difference--fewer injuries, better skiing. But, it sure was easier to scoot across the flat places between the lodge and the ski lift when you could convert your alpine ski to a X-country board by flipping the cable out of the heel hook!