Leave Me Alone – It’s Over & Hello Mossberg

Wildlife is on the move, but winter is back. My backyard, two days ago.

For me, Winter 09-10 was like a bad boyfriend. Like every fall, there was an excitement when the first snowflakes came. Everything seemed so fresh and exciting. But the newness quickly wore off as the rocks stayed visible and the total snowfall stayed well below average. Just as I accepted that our shoddy relationship was indeed over and Jackson Hole Mountain Resort shut down the lifts, that bastard came back with 4 1/2 feet of snow in seven days. But it was too late. In my mind, we were as over as ‘N Sync. Yet, not all of my friends let go as quickly.

Co-workers and even my own dear sister reported “best day of the season” as the day after the mountain closed, also known as employee ski day on April 5th. But I refuse to be cajoled into a tortureous here-today gone-tomorrow relationship. He had his chance. I’ve moved on.

My fly rod is out and ready to get wet this weekend providing the weather accommodates. And if it doesn’t, I have a new love interest. His name is Mossberg. My first shotgun. You see, I tried trap shooting with the boyfriend’s gun but it wasn’t a good match. Too much kick and generally just too big. But yesterday I started looking around and found a 20-gauge pump action. It just fits. And if winter tries coming back again, I’ll just introduce him to Mossberg.

Living in Vacation Land

Blue Skies. Skiing. Not Me. You get the idea, anyhow.

Realizing that it has been an embarrassing two weeks since I last posted, I mentally back-tracked over what ‘adventures’ I had over the said time period. Sure, I had a beautiful bluebird cruiser day at Jackson Hole Mountain Resort just two days ago, but is that anything exceptional? The answer is yes, and it would do me and others well to remember that every day in a resort town is fairly exceptional to the general population.

We started the day in typical not-so-alpine fashion with an arrival time just shy of 11am. With 0 inches of new snow in way too many days, we had wisely chosen the go-fast (narrow) skis and were ready to cruise some serious vertical. The snow on the first run was just a hair hard to set a super secure edge but by the second run, the sun had eased it into prime fast and furious skiing conditions. With an open window on Amphitheater Bowl, I set off with the goal of very few turns and was disappointed when the speed didn’t get my heart pumping quite like I remembered. Luckily, Jackson is the perfect place to dial up the steepness and Thunder chairlift provided some stellar steep runs to excite most mortals.

So was it an ‘epic’ ski day? Not even close. But I made a few runs with great friends new and old in a beautiful destination that most feel privileged to visit a week or two a year. Note to self.

Lust of the Day: Cookbooks on the NPR list of “The 10 Best Cookbooks of 2009“

Outsmarted by Skiing Seven-Year-Olds

Over the “rush” season at Jackson Hole Mountain Resort, I once again returned to teaching 7-14 year-olds how to ski. This is a source of endless amusement and wonderment, especially in the private lesson sector. At a fantastic $600 a day for a full-day private less0n, these kids (and their parents) occupy a higher tax bracket than I knew as a child. This became glaringly apparent when I entered the gondola with two children and they began arguing whether the gondola box was bigger or smaller than the little girl’s closet. “Your closet is NOT this big”, scolded the big brother.

“Yes it is, yes it is. My closet at the Cape House is really big” she taunted back. “The Cape House.” Right. Some instructors turn this into a game. The level of bluntness depends on the age of the child, but a favorite question when I taught skiing at Beaver Creek was, “did the plane you took here have just your family or other people too?”.

While the younger children unquestioningly volunteer information, those persnickety tweens offer up unsolicited chatter like, “my dad drives a Porche-Audi-BMW. What do you drive?”, to which I responded (years ago) with, “a Sonoma. Does he have one of those?”. Confused, the child would usually drop the subject, and with this sort of child this is a good thing.

Last week I was skiing with a beautiful feisty Venezuelan girl who asked to see my phone while we were on a hot chocolate break. “How do you know I have one?” I questioned. Rolling her eyes, she let me know that her seven-years was far beyond that sort of naivety and said “I just want to see it.” Quickly locating my pictures, she asked, “Who’s that?” at a snapshot of my boyfriend cooking eggs. I answered honestly, which was my first mistake.

“Where does he live?”. When I responded “five hours away,” she asked where I stayed when I visited him. Uh-oh. And for that matter, why was he in pajamas? Did we sleep in the same bed? Realizing that I was in way, way over my head, I decided now would be the perfect time to change the conversation to English and speak with the other, more naive seven-year-old in my class. I can only hope that when I have kids, I’ll be smart enough to invent a fictitious older brother.

The White Strip of Death

The White Strip of Death at JHMR

Today I received my very own, unrestricted ski pass to (trumpet fanfare) “The White Strip of Death” at Jackson Hole Mountain Resort. “The White Strip of Death” is not unique to Jackson, but a technical skiing term to describe man’s attempt to open a ski resort on a predetermined date come hell or high water. In our schedule loving society, this is accomplished with numerous artificial snow machines directed along one trail. Skiers, jonsesing after nearly four months of snowlessness, flock to this solitary rock-flecked trail in droves. This is where the death part comes in.

The never-ever skiers. The “honey, I’ll teach you to ski” couples. The nine-year-old straight-liners. The full-face helmet “I’m here to huck” shredders. All of these personalities converge and attempt to share one trail. Some of us refer to this as “the human slalom”, but that’s a desperate attempt to make lite of a sad situation. The situation being, of course, snowlessness. With a 24″ base and 0″ new in the last 144 hours, we optimistically report the mountain as “open” (as of yesterday) and skiing conditions are “packed powder”. Of course,  those paying $2,000 for a pass (and those working for it) would appreciate some “real powder”.

So did I pony up $’s for the privilege of a chair carting my happy self up the hill? Nope. For my pass, I’ll be skiing with those wonderful 7-14 year-olds during peak times. If you’re planning a ski vacation, make note. Peak times at a ski resort (any U.S. ski resort) are between Christmas and New Year’s, President’s weekend (February 13-15) and Spring Break (otherwise known as “March”). The rest of the season, us locals get the mountain to ourselves. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is just the way we want it.

Bookmark of the Day: Bridger-Teton Backcountry Avalanche Hazard & Weather Forecast

Makin’ some Turns

Less than stellar coverage, but happy to be out.

As previously discussed in “The Sicky Sick Gnar Gnar Vocab of J-Hole”, most anything specialized come with its own unique vocabulary terms, and skiing is no exception. We skiers often employ the term “making turns” to denote that we are skiing, because turns is really what the sport is about. As many a nine-year-old in Michigan can attest, going straight on skis isn’t hugely difficult. Although there is some amount of strength and balance involved, straight lining an entire run is typically a fair helping of stupidity coupled with disillusions of invisibility. Straight lining anything in the Rockies is ill-advised as one usually ends up careening off a mountain rather than hitting a car in the parking lot (my sister was just the nine-year-old who would forgo turns in favor of stopping via impact with cars/buildings/adults). So in my desperation to do something, ANYTHING in the off-season I decided to make some turns. Two, to be exact.

The ‘off-season’ in Jackson (fall and spring) forces residents to become increasingly creative with their outdoor endeavors and I attribute the first day of my 09-10 ski season directly to this fact. The snow line was high enough to make Teton Pass, at 8,431 feet, marginally acceptable. We parked the car at the top with another dozen wishful thinkers and started skinning south. For those of you who don’t backcountry ski (and I wouldn’t recommend it without avalanche safety classes and a good group of backcountry friends), “skinning” involves attaching synthetic skins to backcountry skis to make purchase when going uphill. Along the ascent, we passed bowl after beautiful bowl. Like a siren call, these sections tempted me with their illusions of white, fluffy coverage, but a thorough love of my intact knees and face told me to wait until those logs were buried under a solid snow pack. But not everyone up there thought the same.

Another couple had veered off the skin track and were waiting, contemplating a partial downhill descent. Wishing them luck, we wondered if we weren’t being overly cautious but quickly dismissed it as wisdom and experience. On the way back, however, we stopped and chatted with them skinning back for lap two. “There’s a good 10 inches of faceted snow off the ground and a nice light fluffy layer off of that. It’s pretty good!” was the report. It was enough to make me seriously consider following them, but I wondered how much sheer luck was involved with their line. So feeling wiser than lucky, we removed our skins and glided back towards the car. I only made two turns in the skin track on the way back, but man did they feel good.

Pro Deal of the Day: up to 60% off Horny Toad. If you want the details, send me an email by filling out form here and I’ll email you the goods.

The Sicky Sick Gnar Gnar Vocab of J-Hole

Image from Jackson Hole Mountain Resort's Site

It has come to my attention over the years that mountain towns have a language all their own. Nowhere is this more true than in my beloved town, Jackson.

First allow me to clarify one important point. I live in the town of Jackson, Wyoming which is located in the valley of Jackson Hole. ‘Hole’ is an old name for valley. Jackson Hole is also the name of the ski resort (full name: Jackson Hole Mountain Resort). But please stop asking me if Jackson, Wyoming is near Jackson Hole. Just remember: locals live in Jackson, and tourists visit Jackson Hole. Some of the new kids call it “J-Hole”. They need to re-read the above paragraph or I need to get with the times. One of the two.

So in J-Hole, the bro-bras are known for dropping some pretty sick shit. Sometimes they’re just spraying, but we really do rip wicked lines with top to bottom face shots because our gnar gnar mountain IS the shit. If this doesn’t make any sense to you, see below.

Urban dictionary defines gnar gnar as: Shortened modernized version of gnarly typically used by stoners. e.g. “Dude that shit is gnar gnar.” Since Jackson doesn’t really differentiate our general population from the “stoners” (they are one in the same), I’ll go along with this one.

“Dropping” and “hucking” are ways to describe subjecting one’s body to the undeniable forces of gravity via a terrain park or just an old-fashioned cliff. In other words, jumping off “stuff” with one or two sticks attached to your feet. Incidentally, Jackson is a great place for knee operations and physical therapy in general.

Our “lines” are the routes we choose on our way down the mountain and terms like “shit” and “sick” actually mean exactly the opposite of their literal interpretation. When someone is good at sliding over the snow, they “rip”. “That chick rips” is one of the higher compliments a woman can receive in this valley.

So who are the “bro-bras”? They are the guys and gals who use insistently and excessively use these terms. When they brag/exaggerate about their brilliant gravitational defiance, the rest of us say they’re “spraying”. And nobody likes a sprayer. There is a lot of raw talent in this valley, but the coolest athletes are the ones who are secure enough with their talent to put it out there for the world to see and let the buzz build on its own- or not at all. After years immersed in this environment, it really just comes down to how much fun you’re having out there.

Amazing talented athlete video of the day: Inspired Bicycles – Danny MacAskill April 2009

Skiing thoughts… in August

The fortunate thing about living in an outdoor town is that if you’re lucky, work can coincide with your outdoor passions. This very thing happened to me last week. To relate the two, a little background:

I was designing a postcard for a sort of travel agent company. They asked for a identifiable, classic Jackson Hole ski shot on the back. I found an image with two 20-something women drinking beer on a deck overlooking the ski area and thought “now THAT’s a ski vacation”. The agency I was working for also loved it, but said I needed to provide further options as the company had something different in mind. My rationale for using the beer image was the following:

“Skiing, especially at Jackson, is a challenge. By their very nature, challenges are uncomfortable. But skiing is about more than strapping on two sticks and sliding down the hill. It’s about reliving the challenges of the day with a great excuse to drink beer at 3pm with people you just shared an amazing experience with. The beer image invokes the nostalgia of relaxing and the entire experience of ski vacation; not just the mountain. It’s also a part of the ski experience that non-skiing family members can participate in (Jackson is often criticized for not having many non-skiing activities).”

The client bought the image.

If you’re looking for my graphic design business site, click here.

Website of the Day: www.apres.org, “A Singles Club for Active Adults”