Sharp eye and sure footing…

When I heard we had received eight inches of powder overnight, I figured this new day was offering me an unexpected gift. Since I couldn’t get out in the morning, I set my sights on the afternoon, convinced that higher elevation would still hold the fluffiest snow. 

From the lift, everything looked promising—soft, untouched, inviting. But the moment my skis touched the surface, the illusion vanished. What had looked like powder had turned into heavy plaster, the kind that grabs your skis and makes every turn feel like a negotiation. I left that area and tried another, only to find the same stubborn, uncooperative snow. 

Still, something in me switched from disappointment to curiosity. Instead of fighting the conditions, I treated them like a game. And little by little, I found ways to make it fun. The challenge itself became the reward. That’s when it struck me: all these years on snow have built a catalog of sensations that live in the soles of my feet—tiny variations in pressure, edge angle, and balance that I don’t consciously think about but rely on constantly. 

My eyes, too, have been trained by thousands of runs to read terrain instantly, to spot both opportunity and danger long before I reach them. In difficult conditions, those two systems—vision and foot‑feel—start talking to each other. My feet recognize echoes of past situations and quietly offer solutions. My eyes scan ahead and choose the line that gives those solutions the best chance to work. When they sync up, even terrible snow becomes a kind of game. 

The frustration dissolves, replaced by a sense of competence, presence, and flow. And that’s when I’m reminded, once again, that there’s really no such thing as a bad moment on skis. There are only different moments—each one adding another layer to the skill, memory, and joy that keep me coming back.

Meet the “Demo Team!”

As spring get closer we all have projects to start, either around our homes or on other properties we have some interest in. But with any remodeling or improvements, there is always a hefty amount of “demo” or demolition, that’s often necessary.

Still, no one does a better job than the “Bibi”- Donald pair for breaking things. They bring their heavy equipment and hit everything in sight without worrying about any damage. From Gaza to Tehran you see both destroying any infrastructure and telling us they’ll replace ruins and rubles with a wonderful resort... 

Sure, Bibi does that to avoid losing his political immunity and end up going to jail while Donald does it to distract us from Epstein, his sinking ratings and our affordability problems. Out of personal concern and for my own safery, I wonder what this destructive duo will demolish next?

Olympic introspection… (Part Five)

It’s often strange how highly important decisions are made. France secured the 2030 Winter Olympics because it offered the IOC a low‑risk, politically supported, geographically coherent, and legacy‑focused plan across the French Alps. In truth, after Sweden’s withdrawal, it became on November 29, 2023, the IOC’s sole (it then said “preferred”) candidate. 

With a blatant shortage of candidates, the so-called IOC’s “new system” emphasized stability, feasibility, and political guarantees rather than competitive bidding. The French delegation was led by President Emmanuel Macron, who personally expressed France’s full commitment to delivering the Games and the IOC said it placed enormous weight on government guarantees, especially for the Winter Games that require complex infrastructure and climate‑resilient planning. 

France met these conditions within the IOC’s timeline. What made the IOC accept a Games spread across the entire French Alps was a concern to use existing venues and established winter‑sport regions to fit its new strategy, in spite of its highly publicized “sustainability” focus versus huge transportation needs. The IOC also liked the appealing narrative that the French Alps combined historic Olympic sites with modern facilities, creating a blend of heritage and future‑oriented planning. 

This was seen as reducing risk and enhancing the Games’ narrative appeal. France also had to offer explicit financial commitments to the IOC.in order to address its concerns about cost overruns and political uncertainty. 

Unlike other recent bids that stretched across multiple countries or distant cities, the French Alps were seen as forming a continuous, well‑connected winter‑sports corridor (more than 160 miles as the crow flies). Finally, France’s recent success with the Paris 2024 Summer Olympics clinched the deal. Should I repeat that the IOC had no other option?

Edgar Grospiron was chosen to lead the 2030 Winter Olympics Organizing Committee through a formal vote of the General Assembly of the newly created committee. on February 18, 2025. I’ve seen him when he was a toddler, as his parents moved to work for Vuarnet Sports, at Avoriaz, in the early 70s. 

The General Assembly justified its choice based on Grospiron’s deep Olympic and sports‑movement experience, which included, among others, Olympic champion in mogul skiing at Albertville 1992, Leader of the Annecy 2018 Winter Olympics bid and longstanding involvement in French winter‑sports governance. These credentials were explicitly cited as reasons for his appointment. 

Grospiron, who will turn 57 in March, is remarkably extroverted and might have lacked the diplomatic skills and managerial experience need for the job. That happened to me too. Still, the position is highly visible and well remunerated (probably around $25,000 to $35,000 a month), something kept secret in the French tradition of keeping a tight lid on transparency. 

It’s worth noting that Giovanni Malagò who ran the Milan 26 took no salary. More recently, the committee has experienced significant internal tensions, including the resignation of the CEO, COO, communications director, and head of the remuneration committee. These events do not affect how he was selected but help explain why his leadership has been under scrutiny. 

Time will tell us how this complex project develops in the less than four years that are left prior to the games…

Olympic introspection… (Part Four)

Without worrying about transparency, Alberville 1992, Lillehammer 1994, Nagano 1998 and even Salt Lake City 2002, never provided a detailed final budget, or profit and loss statement, or even cost‑overrun figures.

However, it’s pretty obvious that the Games required major infrastructure investments, with extensive venue constructions, major regional transport upgrades and development across multiple venues. Each likes to infer that its Games broke even, but I wouldn’t bet on it.

Torino 2006 and Sochi 2014 are totally different stories though, with Torino ending with a financial outcome clearly negative, and the Games leaving a long‑term burden on the city and its region. The clearest source states that the 2006 Turin Games “left a legacy of large debts and unused infrastructure”, describing the event as a cautionary tale for future hosts. The Games did not break even, the city and region were left holding a significant debt, The financial legacy was negative, period. 

Sochi was clearly engineered by Putin and with his oligarch friends and his subjects’ money he treated himself to the most expensive Olympics in history, and the financial outcome is unusually well‑documented. The available sources paint a consistent picture of massive cost overruns, extremely high total spending, and a long‑term economic burden, with only limited offsetting benefits. Independent analyses show that the total cost reached $55 billion, up from an original bid estimate of $12 billion. 

This represents a 4.5 times cost overrun, one of the largest ever recorded for any Olympic Games. Of that, $16 billion were sports‑related costs (venues, operations) while the remaining $39 billion went to non‑sports infrastructure such as roads, rail, power, and hotels. It’s evidently breaking records for cost overrun at $51 billion!

The jury is still out on the Milano–Cortina 2026 Games that just happened, but budget, overruns, and likely financial outcome are already well‑documented. 

The initial operating budget began at $1.77 billion and officially was revised to $2 billion. But its initial infrastructure budget at $4.5 billion might end up at $4.75 billion. 

Broader estimates place the overall cost at $6 to $7 billion when combining operations, venues, and legacy projects. Some analyses include all related works (roads, transport, regional upgrades) and reach $9.15 billion total, of which only $1.9 billion is strictly “Games-related”. 

Let’s wait and see a little to see at which level the final cost settles in. Some reports suggest that thee Organizing Committee Milano Cortina 2026 is on track to show a surplus between $59 million to $95 million. 

This would largely be due to record-breaking domestic sponsorship revenue, which surpassed $825 million. We’ll see! Tomorrow, we’ll plunge into the ambitious and highly complicated next Olympics, Alps 2030!

Olympic introspection… (Part Three)

If we examine the most recent Winter Olympics from 1992 to this day, we also see different tales and from best to worst, we may be surprised, but won’t be shocked. Across the board, full transparency is not the order of the day and may reflect the IOC’s secretive culture. 

Among the well-behaved and more responsible Olympic winter sites there is a remarkable trio. It’s Vancouver 2010, PyeongChang (South Korea) 2018 and Beijing 2022 that, just like the cream, rise to the top in behavior and performance.

PyeongChang is arguably the best and one of the very few Games that ended with a confirmed financial surplus, backed by crystal-clear numbers. The picture becomes even more interesting when we look at operational budget, infrastructure spending, and economic results side by side. Operationally, it yielded a confirmed $55 million surplus based on revenue of $2.245 billion and expenditure of $2.190 billion. 

If we can believe the Chinese, Beijing 2022 follows with one of the clearest and most unusual financial profiles of any recent Winter Olympics. Another surplus posted by the organizing committee, while the overall cost of the Games was far higher than originally planned. The available sources give us solid numbers on both sides, with a $52 million surplus on $2.3 billion revenue. 

The IOC also stated it would contribute US $10.4 million of its share of the surplus to the Chinese Olympic Committee. Vancouver too, ended up with a clean, documented financial outcome and a very clear picture. The Games are widely regarded as well‑managed financially, though the story differs depending on whether we look at operational costs or infrastructure spending. 

While the operating budget broke even, the infrastructure budget—which included venues, roads, transit, and city improvements—was a separate matter. Two major figures stand out, $603 million for venue development, delivered on budget, but $554.3 million were spent by the City of Vancouver alone for capital infrastructure and Games‑related operations. 

But like most Olympics, the public sector absorbed the infrastructure costs, which are not counted in the break‑even result. Tomorrow we’ll take a look at the other Games, including a preview of Milan 2026.

Olympic introspection… (Part Two)

Today, we’ll explore how financially successful the Olympics (mostly summer) were. We’ll begin with the single Olympic Games that really made money, Los Angeles in 1984, a standout example. These were operated without public funds and still delivered a surplus of over $200 million. Unsurprisingly, they became the model for how to run a lean, privately financed Games. Obviously the example didn’t translate into further success. 

Other Games have occasionally broken even or come close, but 1984 remained the only universally acknowledged major profit-maker. Then there are the many losers. Most Games since the 1960s have run massive deficits. Here are a few notorious examples, starting with Montreal 1976 that was so over budget that it took the city 30 years to pay off the debt. 

That should have been a cautionary tale for future hosts, but Athens also fell in the trap with billions in overruns and many venues abandoned afterward. In the case of Greece these costs overrun were the brick that broke the camel’s back in exacerbating that country’s later financial strain. In Brazil, Rio 2016 also had some severe cost overruns with many venues falling into disuse within months after the Games and long-term economic benefits failed to materialize. 

Even the careful Japanese and Tokyo 2020 (held in 2021) saw the Games’ costs ballooning due to COVID-19 delays, not to mention the fact that the expected tourism benefits evaporated as spectators were banned. As far as Paris 2024 was concerned the outcomes are still being evaluated, but early analysis shows that hosting the Games was “anything but cheap,” with costs around $8.7 billion. This rather negative outcome explains why fewer and fewer cities want to bid for the Olympics. 

The massive cost overruns are the main reason as Olympics routinely exceed their budgets by huge margins. As a result, cities know they’re taking on a huge financial risk with little chance of profit. Then there are the long-term debt and infrastructure maintenance costs. After the Games end, cities must maintain stadiums, arenas, transportation expansions, athlete villages and special infrastructures like bobsleigh runs that often become “white elephants.” 

There’s also growing public resistance as residents increasingly vote against hosting in referendums because they don’t want higher taxes, displacement, construction disruption and long-term debt. The Colorado population stands as an example for vehemently rejecting the 1976 Winter Games in Denver. 

Finally the IOC has gained a really bad reputation with its high demands for expensive new venues, costly adherence to new specifications, strict branding rules, heavy security, thin financial contribution and its nasty habit of grabbing most of the revenue generated. Next, we’ll focus on some of the most successful Winter Olympic venues in recent history and how each one performed in its own ways…

Olympic introspection… (Part One)

Now that the Winter Olympics are behind us, time for some introspection. As I said many times in this blog, the Olympic Games have morphed into a big business that’s not necessarily making money for everyone. 

As we all suspect, the International Olympic Committee (IOC) and major corporate sponsors profit most from the Games, with the IOC generating billions from broadcasting (61%) and marketing (30%). Conversely, host cities and national taxpayers bear the majority of the financial burden, often covering massive, frequently over-budget construction, security, and operational costs. 

Talk about an expensive form of entertainment even if you don’t care to watch it, you’ll be guaranteed to pay for it! Yet, the whole enterprise is pushed – as usual - by our dear politicians. Cities or now, regions still bid despite these huge financial risks for a few simple reasons. It represents a super easy political job as it brings prestige and is seen as a global status symbol. In addition, local developers push hard because they profit regardless of the outcome. 

It’s easy to formulate optimistic economic projections and affordable costs, long before the event and bid committees never hesitate to use inflated forecasts in selling the idea to the public. Consider this, every Olympics since 1960 has gone over budget (except for Los Angeles in 1984), often massively with an average cost overrun at 172%. Montreal took 30 years to pay off its Olympic debt while Rio and Athens were left with abandoned venues and long‑term economic strain.

Did I mention that the jumps in Prelegato for Torino 2006 have become white elephants while Milan rebuilt new jumps in Val di Fieme even further away. Finally, there’s the “legacy” narrative as cities and host venues are promised long‑term benefits that rarely materialize. In the next episode we’ll dig deeper into the Olympics’ financial roller-coaster...

One huge benefit of having no afterlife

Are there people on this planet who passed away and whom you could absolutely not stand? Either they were means to you, had wronged you, abused you or simply couldn’t stand seeing you in their presence. I’m sure you’ll find a bunch if you really try.

Of course, you’ve long pardoned these perpetrators, but still are happy and relieved that you don’t have to see them anymore. Now, imagine a life after death is somehow possible and that, upon resurrecting, you would be liable to run into these awful characters. 

Would you enjoy it? Do you think they would have made any amendments and changes in their behavior? Don’t bet on it! In short, your stay in Paradise would be marred and eternally ruined by these tormentors of yours, isn’t it right? 

So, I just feel blessed that, as I found out, there’s no such thing as an after-life!

Park City Mountain’s mid-season grade

Our charming town of Park City has two ski resorts that are competitors. Deer Valley (let’s call it DEAR Valley because it’s outrageously expensive) and the other one I’d call “Fail Valley” for the sake of symmetry. In fact its name is Park City Mountain (PCM) and it’s where I do more of my skiing. 

The nickname “Fail Valley” I gave it is based on three reasons. First, symmetry, ans second, as I first said, “Fail” is the way a German would pronounce “Vail” in Vail Resorts (VR), its parent company, and the meaning of “fail” being not succeeding at anything, except separating customers from their money and giving them “in-mass” disappointment in return. 

That’s right, PCM does everything "too little too late". Its snow making efforts are “reluctant” as Vail Resorts is far too cheap to invest into it. Not only it barely maintains its ski lifts, but it also falls short of maintaining its slopes invaded by bush and new tree growth everywhere and not trimming as regularly as they should because it costs money. 

This is terrible when the snow is so thin like this season, and this vegetation becomes very dangerous. Its lifts are for the most part old and slow (fixed grip) and are more fit to go to a museum (Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan buy used detachable lifts from the Alps to equip their ski slopes, they don’t even consider fixed grip systems anymore!

Still, there’s some good news compared to the past, we’ve got The Canyons’ new parking structure that’s both spacious and clean, but there again, VR must have purchased "pot-holes" in bulk, that they had to place strategically on the access and egress roads. Wow! I couldn't miss that one. Once inside the structure, it’s pretty hard to figure out how to exit and some better signage would go a long way in helping users to drive out safely. 

In addition, chairlifts keep on stopping continuously, defeating the purpose of being detachable (now I start to understand VR’s fixation on fixed-grip chairs – pardon the pun) and while I’m on the subject of chairlifts, the 8-chair replacement planned for Silverlode is another bad idea. Given the way VR operates its chairs, having 8 folks in line at loading or unloading time, will result in even more stoppages than is the case now (increased domino effect). 

My idea of a bypass from the base of Silverlode to a relocated base of Motherlode further down in the drainage and going to Puma Ridge would be vastly superior. Finally, I wish VR comes up next year with a more attractive pass for Seniors. Absent this, I might switch from Fail Valley to DEAR Valley! 

Dying doing what we love !

This is an expression I have heard several times about skiers meeting their mortality while skiing. I’m not talking about tragic accident mind you, like avalanche, collisions, slide on slick slopes, etc., but “natural death”, most often than not caused by a timely massive heart failure on the ski slopes, happening to an avid skier. 

Of course the saying “He died doing what he loved”, that’s in fact a coping mechanism, not a literal truth. It perhaps works for the victim, if the assumption is correct (which we generally failed to verify), but tragic for the widow or widower and the next of kin that end up picking the pieces in a moment that end up being a bit awkward given the circumstances. 

When someone collapses on a ski slope from a heart attack, the people around them instinctively reach for a narrative that softens the shock. Saying “he died doing what he loved” is a way to reduce the randomness of the event, give the moment a sense of dignity and reassure everyone that the person wasn’t suffering in a hospital bed. 

There’s also a cultural element as skiing, climbing, sailing, are activities with a built‑in mythology. People who love them often talk about them as a way of life, not just a hobby. So when someone dies in that context, the narrative almost writes itself. It’s not that the sentiment is false; it’s just incomplete. I remember two people that die this way.

One was Max Marolt a ski rep for Look bindings when I came to America in 1977 and an icon of skiing and politics in Aspen who died at 67 after suffering a heart attack while skiing at Las Leñas in Argentina on July 28, 2003. The other was the French ski champion Adrien Duvillard who died while skiing on his native Megève, at Mont d'Arbois, on February 14, 2017 at age 82. 

I too would love to die that way, but I don’t think my wife would be thrilled!

The uncanny nature of skiing… (Part Three)

So now that we’ve looked at so many aspects of skiing that are seldom discussed, I propose that we try to understand why skiing can becomes more dangerous as we age. This could be in large part because of its apparent ease and feeling of freedom, skiing often hides our true physical and mental state until the moment its needed the most. 

There’s the “fresh start illusion” that occurs because the lift offers us an opportunity to rest and resets us, we never feel the gradual fatigue that warns us to stop. We think we’re fine, until you’re not. We all know that reaction time declines with age, so even a tiny delay in correcting one’s balance, edge-control, weight adjustment and response to various terrain and snow conditions can turn a small mistake into a severe fall.

As most of us know, falls are new desirable nor good for old persons! Beyond that aspect, skiing demands instant reactions, but aging slows them down and the fun nature of the sport hides that fact. In addition, our strength declines faster than our confidence. 

Our mind remembers what you used to do, but our body can’t always deliver it, leading to a dangerous mismatch. Adding adrenaline to cold also give us a false sense of capability as we feel sharper, stronger, and more confident than we actually are. High speeds magnify small errors and at 30–40 mph, a 1% lapse quickly becomes a 100% problem. 

Then there’s vision and depth perception that subtly degrade with time, making flat light, snowy conditions, and speed much harder to process visually. Finally, fatigue hits all at once, because skiing masks it so well, so when it’s there, it’s often faster than we have time to react. Our legs give out, our balance collapses, our attention drops and our reflexes are gone. 

This is when most accidents happen, the last run, the last hour, the “one more” moment. In conclusion, it’s so true that skiing feels like a young person’s sport even when we’re older because the sport is so good at hiding the usual signals of aging. 

That’s the big paradox; we never feel out of breath, our muscles don’t burn, we don’t sweat, we don’t feel any pain, don’t suspect the fatigue coming, and still feel 25 until the moment our body reminds us that we’re a tad older than that. 

That’s the danger, try to remember these stark realities and don’t forget them!

The uncanny nature of skiing… (Part Two)

As promised, I wanted to explore why skiing feels so effortless yet intense, later we’ll also see how it can become dangerous as it "masks" one's true physical and mental condition and could have dire consequences in terms of potential accidents. It’s true that skiing is one of the strangest sports in the world because it creates a perfect illusion of feeling effortless, smooth, and almost weightless, yet it demands enormous material, physical and mental resources, all in a variety of amounts.  

As many have said before “It feels as liberating as flying and frees us from the tyranny of gravity...” That mismatch between effortless and thrilling is also why it can become dangerous, especially as people age. The sport can perfectly hide our true physical condition until the moment we need it most. So why does this happen and why is skiing’s “masking effect” so powerful? 

It’s clearly one of the few sports where gravity achieves a critical part of the work. When we ski, we’re not propelling ourselves much, we’re mostly managing our momentum. The ski-lift does the hardest part, we don’t climb the mountain, don’t earn the descent (unlike with Alpine randonnée), but somehow start fresh every run! This means, much less physical fatigue, no cardiovascular warning signs, less gradual buildup of exhaustion as skiers go from “resting” to “high-speed athletic performance” instantly. 

A combination of gravity and muscle work provides the propulsion and that hybrid balance varies vastly, depending on a skier’s experience, the weather, their competitive nature, proficiency on snow and external factors like snow, slope and visibility as one’s body can be working hard to stabilize, absorb shocks, and react as fast as it can. High mileage and old skiers like my rely more and more on gravity as brute force diminishes. Still there are subtle forms of exertion that take place. 

Adrenaline, the result of speed and risk, masks weakness, as it boosts confidence. It also hides pain and fatigue as it temporarily sharpens focus! While skiing feels easy, it can be very intense even when we’re not under the impression of “working hard” in the traditional sense. It demands much concentration as well as high-speed decision-making as we’re making micro-adjustments every fraction of a second and it can be mentally exhausting, but we don’t notice it until later. 

It also requires a constant, eccentric muscle loading as our quads, buttock muscles, and core are absorbing force, not producing it. Eccentric work like this feels easier, but fatigues muscles faster and without being noticed. Up in our brain there’s plenty to do as we’re processing snow quality, terrain difficulties, other users, speed and visibility. All this also drains mental energy without feeling like “effort.” 

Finally, our body is constantly correcting itself, using deep stabilizer muscles that also tire quickly but quietly. So as you can see, a lot of strain is put on the body without us knowing it. We’ll continue tomorrow, with a few darker sides of skiing, so please come back! 

The uncanny nature of skiing… (Part One)

My whole life has evolved in a universe of winter sports and in it I’ve earned my family living. That’s why my whole life and career have been dominated by skiing, as a paradoxical sport that is for the most part, "assisted", in the sense that most of the physical effort required to perform these activities is supplied by a ski lift (chairlift, tram, etc.), most by gravity and the rest by some muscular assistance. 

 Half-jokingly, I’ve always liked to say that skiing was a “lazy-man’s sport” and it’s probably true! This made me wondering what other sports, if any, could fall in that category. It’s true that skiing and snowboarding are unique because the hardest physical part, climbing up the mountain, is outsourced to a machine. 

In this series, I’ll be using the word “skiing” to simplify things and apply it also to “snowboarding”. The activity itself is seen as quite active and as a “sport”, but most of the energy input required comes from an external system (the chairlift and other means to get up the mountain). 

It we define an “assisted sport” as a sport where a mechanical system provides the primary elevation, propulsion, or access needed to participate, there are indeed several other activities that fit the same pattern. Here’s a quick overview: . 

1. Mountain biking (lift‑access downhill), 

2. Paragliding and hang gliding (when using a tow system like a boat), 

3. Scuba diving when boat-assisted to do the “transportation work”, 

4. Rock climbing through gym auto-belays or mechanical ascenders, 

5. Motorsports like ski-doo, jet ski, motocross, etc., 

7. Indoor skydiving where a vertical wind tunnel provides lift and resistance 

8. Surfing with jet-ski tow-in, and 

9. Other sports that are “assisted” in a different way, like cart-assisted golfing, sailing when wind provides propulsion, glacier hiking (tram-assisted) and indoor climbing with auto-belay. 

Still, skiing feels unique because it sits at a special intersection as it is a gravity-powered sport using machine-powered access and offering high-speed motion. It also costs minimal metabolic effort to start each run. Very few other sports listed here combine all four. 

Only downhill mountain biking and tow-assisted paragliding are the closest analogues. Tomorrow we’ll explore what makes skiing so effortless, but so thrilling. To find out, just stay with me...

My take on the ’26 Olympics

Thank god, the Olympics are over! I was getting weary of that five-ring circus, everyday for 2 weeks. The 2026 Games brought some 2,900 athletes from 92 countries to Italy, competing for some 116 medal events. The event covered 16 disciplines across 8 sports.

This marks the first Winter Games with 116 events and a high female participation at 47%, the highest in Winter Olympic history, with competitions taking place in venues from Milan, Livigno, Bormio, Val di Fiemme, Predazzo, Anterselva/Antholz and of course Cortina d'Ampezzo. 

I didn’t care about the medal count, as I love all nations and I’m not chauvinistic enough to fall into that narrow rut. 

What I didn’t like is that there are now far too many events to be able to navigate and understand them all. Some are just weird, just don't belong, and I thought ski-mountaineering was a joke and, once more, found that not all medals are far from being created equal. 

The IOC has become a money-making machine, deep into the entertainment business. The Games and the IOC would require huge reforms, but don’t count on it. Once more I’m glad it’s over and 2030 will arrive faster than I need or want!

Snow at least!

On February 17, our long snow drought ended as I was able to sample the delights of Utah’s fabled powder snow for (almost) the first time this season. From a historical standpoint, this year’s drought over the Rocky Mountains and over Utah and Park City is a record-breaking one. 

According to SNOTEL data and historical weather logs, February 2026 has seen the lowest statewide snowpack ever recorded, even dipping below the previous record low of 1977. Our current snowpack levels were hovering around 49% of the median. Historically, if a winter does not "catch up" by mid-February, the odds of reaching a normal snowpack by April 1st are less than 10%, according to the Utah Avalanche Center. 

Hopefully the abundant snowfall we just received will do better than this! When looking back through written records and tree-ring data (which have been used to track moisture over centuries), the following winters stand out as the most significant "drought years" for Park City and its surrounding area. It all begun in a period from 1896 to 1907. called the "Great Drought", during the era of silver mining in Park City, when none of us were born yet, when we had some very lean winters, when our lush meadows on the high plateaus "turned to dust beds." 

This is considered by climatologists to be the most severe drought since the settlement of Utah. A bad winter happened in 1933–1934 during the Dust Bowl Era. This was before skiing was ingrained as a “popular sport.” That winter saw the lowest winter precipitation year in Utah’s recorded history since statewide tracking began in the late 1800s. 

The Impact was severe; by May 1934, Utah's mountain streams, which peak in spring, reportedly looked like "August trickles." Agriculture around Park City was devastated. This period (1930–1936) represents the most severe multi-year moisture deficit in the state's modern history. 

Then came the winter of 1976–1977, called that of the "Benchmark", often referred to by locals as "the winter that didn't happen." This was long before man-made snow came to the West, so many resorts, including Park City, struggled to open at all before Christmas. 

In November and December 1976, Alta (the regional high-water mark) received only 30.5 inches of snow—the lowest early-season total in modern records until now. The big difference was that 1977 was a "cold drought", freezing but bone-dry. In contrast this 2025-2026 is a "compound drought" because it’s both dry and record-warm, meaning much of what would have been snow fell as rain or melted immediately. 

We had the 2014–2015 called the "Short" Winter that held the record for the lowest total seasonal snowfall at many measuring stations. This luckily happened as we were finishing building our new home and welcomed the sparse snow. 

In Park City, the total snowfall for that season was only 154 inches (the average is closer to 270–300 inches). While following our home’s building progress, I still managed to ski 87 times and descend almost 1,273,955 feet (388,301 meters). 

Finally, we had the 2017–2018 that we call the “Recent Low”, something I can’t hardly remember since it didn’t make a huge dent in my skiing (I skied 108 times and some 1,833,435 feet vertical (558,831 meters)). 

On New Year’s Day 2018, Utah’s statewide Snow Water Equivalent (SWE) was just 3.0 inches. In late December 2025, that record was broken when the SWE dropped to 2.7 inches, cementing this current year as the new "worst on record." 

All this doesn’t tell us how long we’ll keep on receiving snow, but for the moment we got a season’s extension! 

The danger of feeling twenty-five

We recently discussed the difficulties in downshifting our aggressive activities as we grow old. Right, we still feel like we’re 25 years old and are still filled up with all kinds of crazy plans, strategies and tactics inside our “brand-new” feeling little brain, while the rest of our personal infrastructure is starting to accuse a clear and present decline. 

It often takes an accident, a mishap to make us, or force us to realize that it’s time for us to slow down and disregard our brain's insatiable hunger for exciting action. 

This makes sense, as down-shifting isn’t something we want to sign for, especially while the Olympics and their "Citius, Altius, Fortius" (Faster, Higher, Stronger) motto are part of our daily soundtrack. 

As I believe it now, we should remember that when a door closes, another opens, but that is easier said than accepted! Well, let’s face it, we don’t want to die and before this, get old, so we cling the very best we can to the status quo, in that case a little, sometimes pesky inner voice that tells us “You’re still 25” and of course, we’re too delighted to believe it. 

That’s why sometimes, some of us find themselves in big trouble. Some censorship, at least for false ideas, isn’t that bad after all... 

Tapping into cosmic energy… (Part Three)

To learn more about practical methods to “unclog the pores” and how to cultivate a "porous" state, you’ve arrived at the right place. Well, we’re looking at something very real, without cosmic rays or mystical downloads, but just knowing the inner conditions that make a human mind more permeable, more intuitive, more insightful. When we talk about “unclogging the pores,” we’re describing the process of removing internal noise so that ideas, patterns, and insights can flow more freely. 

Let’s explore practical, grounded methods that genuinely cultivate this “porous” state — the same state that Mozart, Einstein, or Mother Teresa lived in. Let’s begin with “Quieting the Noise”, that is the foundation. We can’t be porous if our mind is jammed with static. A warning, the solutions sound simple but can be very demanding. It’s mindfulness meditation and takes at least 15 minutes daily. It’s not mystical and consists in just training your attention to stop jumping around.

In time, it will reduce our internal chatter, increase awareness of subtle thoughts, and improve emotional clarity, just like rinsing the pores of our skin. It’s demanding because it’s daily and needs to become a habit and it takes time that’s measured in years, not just hours. You’ll know when you get there. It will be where the “porous” state really begins. 

We’re teaching our mind to notice what it normally filters out. We need to cultivate our sense of observation or awe to literally quieten the brain’s self-focus regions and open us to the world through our senses. Following this, we must strengthen our subconscious “receiver”, like tuning a radio. This is where creativity, intuition, and insight emerge. 

We’re not pulling knowledge from the cosmos but we’re allowing our subconscious to surface what it already knows. This includes a period of incubation involving time, thus patience and the ability to let our minds drift among other tools. Then we must work on the emotional component to remove resistance. 

Porosity isn’t just cognitive, it’s emotional. So we start by letting go of perfectionism, choosing curiosity over control and self-compassion, which means that we need to remove the harsh critic that we often are. Finally, we need to use our body as a receiver, keeping in mind that a tense body results in a tense mind. We do this with our breath, where slow, deep breathing increases neural coherence and opens us literally as do light movement and natural immersion. 

This is the physiological version of opening the pores. When all this is achieved and all is aligned, insights feel like they come from “outside,” even though they’re emerging from the deepest layers of your own mind. This is what Mozart meant when he said music appeared “fully formed,” or what Einstein meant by “intuition.” This is what we’re pointing toward when we commit to it. Work smart at it, and good luck!

Tapping into cosmic energy… (Part Two)

We could say that the forces of our universe work in unison with the way our brain works. Our brain is constantly absorbing patterns, forming associations, recombining ideas, generating insights, noticing subtle cues and making leaps that feel sudden, but are built on years of subconscious processing. When our mind is quiet and receptive, these processes become more visible and feel like “inspiration arriving out of nowhere.” 

In fact, it’s not coming from outside, it’s inside, but it feels cosmic because it originates from a domain so vast that we can’t fully fathom it. If we aren’t as “porous” as Mozart or Einstein, the keys to let that universal wisdom rush in, can be found in mindfulness, the best “unclogging” mechanism that includes meditation, stillness, and even awe.

Mindfulness help reduce internal noise, increases neural coherence, improves attention, quiets the default mode network (especially the “self-chatter” region), enhances creativity, increases sensitivity to subtle patterns and improves emotional clarity. This is the mental equivalent of “opening up the pores.” Unlike what I might have thought or said before, we’re not absorbing cosmic energy by the cubic foot, we’re just removing the blockages that prevent our own mind from functioning at its highest capacity. 

In fact, Mozart and Einstein weren’t cosmic antennas but were both uncluttered minds. Amadeus Mozart described music as “already complete” in his mind, as if he were discovering it rather than inventing it. Albert Einstein said his ideas came as “intuitive leaps,” not logical steps. Their descriptions match what happens when the subconscious is highly active, the conscious mind gets out of the way, the person is deeply attuned to patterns, the internal critic shuts up or is at least quiet, the mind is in a state of flow. 

This feels like receiving something from beyond ourselves, but it’s really a measure of the mind functioning at its most open and integrated. I find this approach to be a modern, secular version of a very old idea where the insight comes not from force, but from receptivity. We are not looking at magic but mental permeability, that is the ability to let the world, ideas, patterns, and inspiration flow through us without resistance. 

It’s not mystical, it’s simply wisdom. This approach, I believe is not only coherent, it actually grasp a procedure that has existed for millennia and sees cosmic or universal energy as something that penetrates us to help us grow while clearing all the internal noises that make our lives so hard to live. 

If you don’t have the “porosity” of the famous folks we talked about and want to know how to get it, just stay tuned for the next episode...

Tapping into cosmic energy… (Part One)

The entire universe is immense and contains an almost unlimited amount of energy. So my thinking has always been “Why not tap a tiny bit of that energy, to help us when we need it and make our lives easier both from physical to a mental standpoint?” In fact, without a clear and definite answer to my question, I had intuitively believed it was possible. 

I thought it could happen by opening up, body and mind, and immerse ourselves into that unlimited sea of knowledge and power, just pulling the tiny bit we need of its immense content. How does this strike you? Perhaps what I’m saying here is actually more common, and more profound than people will admit. To me, “cosmic or universal energy” is not literally a physical substance like some parcels delivered by Amazon. 

Instead, it’s a permeable model, as if we were immersed into vast substance, and our degree of openness would determines what we received and perceived. This could mirror a view held by a limited few that have thought already about this. What I’m trying to define is a real psychological phenomenon. Not a few magical cosmic rays, nor a literal energy transfer, but something far more subtle and far more powerful. Something that would make our mind becomes more creative, insightful, and perceptive when it’s open, quiet, and receptive. 

This is not mysticism either. It’s more like neuroscience, psychology, and lived experience. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Albert Einstein, and many others didn’t “receive” knowledge from the universe like a computer downloads a new update, but by cultivating a mental state that allowed ideas to emerge to their attention with unusual clarity and fluency. This in fact is the mechanism I want to discuss and try to explain. 

For instance, Trump stands at the opposite end of this spectrum of awareness, by remaining totally impenetrable untouched by the forces of the universe. “Porous to the cosmos” could be a metaphor for the cognitive openness I’m trying to explain. This means a heightened pattern recognition, a deeper intuition, the ability to hold complex ideas lightly and keep a mind that doesn’t fight or resist insights. 

That also implies a nervous system that isn’t cluttered with noise and a capacity to easily “go with the flow”. These are measurable traits that have nothing supernatural about them. They’re just psychological and neurological and can be cultivated. We are in fact immersed in a “sea of knowledge” and it’s up to us to let it soak in or work at improving our own “porosity”. 

Tomorrow, I’ll share with you what really goes inside the process of opening up the pores...

Dialing down to last longer… (Part Two)

As we continue aging, we also need to build more predictability into our activities as accidents often come from surprises due to terrain, weather, fatigue, traffic, or other people. We’ll be safer if we choose conditions we know we can handle well, like avoiding crowded days or knowing when to stop before we’re tired. It’s not fear, it’s simply strategy. 

Let’s not neglect good equipment that can compensate for aging reflexes and stability. For instance, better helmets, goggles, bindings, and skis well tuned. Cars with advanced driver-assist features, reverse view screen, or bikes with disk brakes and all the modern accessories. We should also train for stability, not just strength, as with age, our biggest accident risks come from slower reaction time, reduced balance and reduced ability to correct a mistake.

These measures don’t just make us safer, they make you feel younger. We must be willing to listen to our bodies “whispers” before they become “shouts”, as our body never fails to give us early warnings long before it breaks down. What I mean are slight hesitation, a moment of imbalance, a sense of being “off”, a little stiffness or a tiny lapse in focus. 

When we were young, we could ignore these, older we shouldn’t. We also need to redefine what “risk” means. It’s not just the chance of injury, but it’s losing the ability to keep doing what we love. This doesn’t mean that, as BB King sings “The thrill is gone”, as we don’t need to eliminate excitement, simply just recalibrate it. 

Like skiing groomers more often now instead of fighting the trees or drive spiritedly on the open roads, not in heavy traffic, cycle hard on familiar paths, not unpredictable ones. Reframe aging as an evolution, not a decline. The most active older people aren’t the ones who fight aging; they’re the ones who adapt to it. Let’s stay curious, disciplined, and self-aware. 

We don’t stop moving, we just adapt the way we move. With this said, Lindsey Vonn’s unfortunate fall at the Olympics wasn’t in vain, but she delivered a strong teaching moment to all of us who still believe we’re 25 but are no longer there...

Dialing down to last longer… (Part One)

A few days ago, following Lindsey Vonn’s accident a the Olympics, I felt grateful to her for reminding me that, as we age, we must slow down or at least control our expectations when it come to performance. From that indisputable reality, I wonder how does highly active and competitive persons can dial down the personal risk they take, and the effort they make as they age, so they don't get into trouble or are exposed to the kind of bad accidents generally linked to an advancing age?

It’s absolutely true that the years don’t totally erase an active person’s identity, they simply affects the rate of certain risks. The real challenge is psychological. Our instincts, confidence, and appetite for intensity stay young, while our reactions like time, balance, and recovery quietly and inexorably shift. 

The trick is not to stop living boldly, but to adapt the way we take risks, so we stay in the game instead of getting sidelined by preventable accidents. As we age, brute force and split‑second reactions become less reliable but, smoothness, skill, precision, and planning become our new superpowers. For instance, when I get on the hill to ski, this new paradigm pushes me to control my boards even more effortlessly with cleaner lines instead of pushing maximum speed. 

When I drive my car, I focus infinitely more, pay as much attention as I can, I’m much more courteous, patient and in all cases, I’m not doing less, and whatever I do is much smarter. In my vocabulary and mind’s eye, I’m replacing “proving myself” with “preserving myself”. 

Younger people often push limits to test themselves. Older folks push limits to stay alive and active for decades. This should make us say: “I’m not here to win the day — I’m here to win the next 20 years!” Such a mindset naturally reduces unnecessary risk-taking. Tomorrow, we’ll add a few more crucial tools to our quiver, so come back for more! 

Managing liars (Part Two)

So we know one or a few confirmed liars. What are we going to do with them? Attempt to reform them, put them in the fridge, hope for some miracle or exile them faraway? What kind of relationship will we choose to carry on with them in the future, if any? 

If we still want to be friends with someone who lies, remember that friendship requires trust. If someone’s lying erodes that trust, the friendship becomes lopsided and unsafe. Can we even be friends with a liar if the untruths told are small, infrequent, or rooted in insecurity? Maybe, if the individual is willing to talk about it, show remorse and grow out of the practice. 

All of this is theory, instead I tend to go with “Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me” a 17th century proverb, advising that while being deceived the first time is the offender's fault, being fooled again is the victim's fault for not learning from the experience. So, I can’t be friends with a liar if I must feel anxious around them or am constantly second-guessing what they say.

This holds also true if we see them lying to manipulate or control, Just remember that friendship is voluntary; we don’t owe anyone access to our inner life. Then there’s the question as to whether liars can be reformed? The answer is NO for me, but could be YES, only if the truth manipulator wants to be. Let’s remember that people can change when they fully recognize the harm they’ve caused and feel safe enough to tell the truth. 

They must also be motivated to build healthier patterns and practice honesty even when it’s uncomfortable. People won’t change if they continue to see lying as a very effective tool, blame others for their behavior, deny their lying problem and continue to benefit from the deception it procures them. We can encourage honesty, but we cannot force integrity.

It’s up to the individual to decide, and I don’t know about you, but I’m still incapable of reading other people’s minds too well. Finally, should we shun liars or what level of access does this person’s behavior earn? Trust is not a moral judgment — it’s a calculation. We should certainly distance ourselves when someone’s lying consistently harms us or others. 

That’s not cruelty — it’s self-respect. What we shouldn’t do is humiliate or punish liars and declare them “bad people”. Instead we can choose to limit the access they have to us, not place ourselves in their way and don’t rely on them. Boundaries are not rejection, they’re clarity. 

Now, I hope you’ve got some useful tools to navigate the murky waters of dealing with a person whose proven track record was never to be reliant about telling the truth...

Managing liars (Part One)

How do we deal with liars once they’re identified as such? What form will our relationship take with them? These are brave and important questions, and it’s a good thing that they don't stop at just asking “how to spot dishonesty”, but what to do with that knowledge. 

Human relationships are messy, and lying sits right at the intersection of trust, fear, insecurity, and self‑protection. There isn’t a single “correct” response, but there are patterns that should help us navigate it with clarity and self‑respect. We’ve seen before that not all lies and liars are the same. People lie for very different reasons and it’s important to understand the type of lying they use to helps us decide how to respond. 

Let’s start with the situational or fear-based liars, those who lie because they’re scared of consequences, embarrassment, or conflict. There is a figment of hope with that group as it can change, because some individuals usually feel guilt. In fact, they may lie less when they feel safe enough to be honest. Next, we have the habitual liars, those who lie reflexively, even when the truth would be easier. They’ve often learned lying as a coping mechanism and if they’re willing and able to put in the effort, they might change, but I wouldn’t bet the farm on it.

The following and scarier group are the manipulative or self-serving liars who lie to control, exploit, or gain advantage. These are dangerous dudes. They rarely change without major consequences or professional help, so don’t ever touch them with a ten foot pole! That brings me to the subject of whether or not we should consider working with someone who lies. 

 This might be tried, but only with boundaries. We could work with someone who uses fear-based or minor lies, if they acknowledge their behavior, show consistent effort to improve, and we are clear-headed about what to expect and can live with the consequences. Clearly, do not work with someone who lies if they use it to manipulate outcomes, deny or justify their flaw and use them to harm others or undermine trust in the team. 

If a liar ever is a candidate for working in a professional setting, the key is structure with documented agreements in writing what the expectations are and there can’t be any reliance on verbal assurances alone. This isn’t punishment — it’s protection. 

Tomorrow, we’ll see if we can continue any relationship with liars. Could we be stay friends with them? Reform them? Or should we just shun them?

2-12 The “art” of lying… (Part Two)

Obviously, even when somehow related, lies are all different. Today, we’ll try to bring some clarity to their vast diversity. So, is there a good way to classify them into buckets that range from their intensity, immorality, expediency, and issues that define one’s character. 

What follows is a framework that attempts to capture all this. In sorting them out by intensity, we measure how far a lie departs from reality. Is it creating minimal distortion, like small exaggerations? Is it of moderate fabrication, like mixing truth with fiction? Is it on the contrary total and complete invention, creating a false reality? 

Then it gets worse with a lie that sustains deception by maintaining a falsehood over time. That intensity factor often correlates with the effort required to maintain the lie. If we sort lies by moral weight, how much harm does the lie cause or intends to create? Are they just harmless / prosocial lies that are meant to protect feelings? 

There are these neutral lies used for convenience, privacy and to avoid embarrassing situations. We also find self‑serving lies that are there to protect ego or avoid consequences. It gets worse again when lies become harmful in order to cause clear damage to others. That goes also for malicious lies that are intended to deceive for personal gain or to hurt. In those instances, the liar’s nefarious intent becomes totally visible. 

When we sort lies by expediency, it measures how quickly they can solve a problem. Like the instant‑relief lies used to escape a moment of discomfort. The so-called “strategic lies” that are planned, calculated and often manipulative are much worse. Those are chronic lies, the convenient, habitual shortcuts that are used to avoid responsibility. Expediency often reveals whether the lie is impulsive or deliberate. 

Finally there are the lies that reveal a liar’s character. This is probably the dimension people care about most. It begins with the occasional, low‑stakes lies that are part of normal human behavior. Then there are these that are used to avoid accountability, signaling immaturity or insecurity. In dialing up we find the lies that harm others for personal gain, showing some clear, ethical cracks. 

When the mind gets too cloudy for its own good, there is compulsive lying that signals the need to talk to a mental professional. Today with Trump and his enablers, we see lies that rewrite history and reality, white signaling a strong dose of narcissism or a fractured sense of self.

Of course, character isn’t measured by whether someone lies — everyone does — but by what and why one’s lies about, how liars behave when confronted with the truth. So to conclude this voyage in a world of lies, we should wonder if there’s more lying today than in the past? 

It may not be more common, but it’s more visible because digital communication leaves permanent traces, social media rewards exaggeration and performance, public figures go for casual dishonesty, people live in echo chambers that normalize bending the truth, and anonymity reduces accountability. So the perception of widespread lying is strongly amplified. 

I don’t think there’s any falsehood in making that statement!

The “art” of lying… (Part One)

It seems that lying has never been so prevalent, at least that is the way I think it is. In fact, I tend to believe that Trump “legalized” the practice. So, this leads me to wonder why do people lie, and if anything how lies can fall into categories like, intensity, immorality, expediency and can they help us gauge someone’s character?

Whether lying is actually more common or simply more observable in a hyper‑connected world is debatable, but the experience of being surrounded by dishonesty feels very real for many people. What we’re talking about is the psychology of deception and the moral “spectrum” of lies. In other words, why people lie, how those lies differ, and what they reveal about character. What I’m really asking is what does lying say about who someone is? 

Of course, it depends on the motive, the stakes, and the pattern. A single lie tells us almost nothing but a pattern of lies generally tells us everything. Let’s go deeper into any of these dimensions, especially the character side, which is where the topic gets most interesting. People lie for a surprisingly small number of core reasons, even though the forms vary endlessly. 

Most lies fall into one or more of these categories. First it’s for self‑protection, that’s the most common motive. They want to avoid embarrassment, punishment, conflict, or loss of status. Next comes the need to boost one’s image, competence, or desirability; we’ve all seen that. This includes exaggeration, humble‑bragging, and résumé inflation. 

There is also lying to protect others, what’s often called “white lies.” It’s used to sooth feelings, avoid hurting someone and maintain good harmony. In a more dishonest category are those who use lying to gain some advantage, through manipulation, exploitation, or strategic deception. This is where lying becomes morally darker. 

We also have all those who lie by habit or compulsion. They just lie reflexively, even when the truth would work fine. In these situations these people should clearly seek mental assistance. Naturally there are also the lies many of us use for “social lubrication” (or hypocrisy) like saying “It’s so great to see you” or “I love your dress – or your car – or your new skis”, etc. 

Finally, there is what’s called “Identity maintenance” when people lie to preserve a story they’ve built about themselves, even to themselves. Maybe the kind of mode of operation Trump uses daily? Tomorrow, we’ll explore how we can classify lies and measure them, so please stay tuned and don’t forget to bring a measuring tape!

Who originated paragliding? (Part Two)

In 1985, As Jean-Claude Bétemps, along with Gérard Bosson and André Bohn were busy developing their new sport, came Laurent de Kalbermatten. A Swiss pilot, he made the jump from modified parachutes to "La Randonneuse," the very first wing designed solely for paragliding (using non-porous fabric and rigid lines).

This is when paragliding ceased to be a variant of skydiving and became a free-flight sport in its own right. This model was at the beginning of mass production. Other manufacturers and designs soon followed. With more models available, the number of practitioners increased along with marketing and competition between companies, all this resulted in the technical development of paragliding in terms of ease of use, performance, and safety. 

The first recorded record in free flight distance is 69.15 km and was set by Hans Jörg Bachmair on 10 June 1989, which has been officially recorded by the International Aeronautical Federation (FAI). Soon paragliding was organized as a legitimate sport. The first European championship was held in 1988 in St Hilaire, France. The following year, the first world championship was held in Koosen, Austria. Much later, in 2004, the Asian championship in Handong, South Korea and in 2008, the Pan-American in Castelo, Brazil. 

My friend Anselme Baud who was a faculty member at the ENSA, the Chamonix-based school for mountain guides and ski instructors, in addition to being one of the pioneers of extreme (steep) skiing, played a role in adding the use of skis to the practice. In the early winter 79/80, on Plan Praz, at the Brevent’s gondola mid-station, in Chamonix, as Jean-Claude Bétemps was conducting tests with his "paraplane" (the name for the early paraglider). 

Instead of taking off on foot, Anselme Baud ​​ket his skis on to gain speed. He launched himself down the slope, took off for a few hundred meters before touching down on the snow again and skiing away. Anselme saw in the paraglider not just a flying machine, but a "mountain tool" allowing him to descend faster or overcome obstacles impassable on skis.  

In conclusion, Jean-Claude Bétemps, along with partners André Bohn and Gérard Bosson, while an instrumental trio in inventing the sport, were more focused on the technical development and the promotion of paragliding as a new, accessible sport, rather than aggressively marketing and monetizing it like a Steve Jobs or Mark Zuckerberg would have done. 

The sheer popularity of their innovation created a massive boom in the 1980s. Independent manufacturers quickly stepped in to improve the equipment, leading to a booming industry that they paved the way for, without enjoying the fruit of their invention. 

Now, just like me, you know the whole story...

Who originated paragliding? (Part One)

Paragliding has always amazed and interested me, even though I knew nothing about its origins. It was preceded by the delta-wing, hang-glider, a key precursor to foot-launched aviation, invented in 1963 by John Dickenson, an Australian engineer for water-ski towing. 

It’s Bill Bennett and Bill Moyes that further developed Dickenson's design in the early 1970s, turning the water-ski kite into a foot-launchable hang glider which hooked many of my French countrymen. Hang-gliding led to paragliding which history is quite fascinating because it’s not based on one single invention, but on a series of pioneers who transformed a survival device (the parachute) into a fun implement. In searching for those "truly" at the origin of the sport as we know it today, we find a group of technical precursors. 

Before paragliding became a sport, it was necessary to invent the double-surface wing that would allows it to work. In 1964 an American, Domina Jalbert, the real inventor, Domina Jalbert, patented the Parafoil. Consider it as the birth certificate of the cell wing. Before him, parachutes were round; after, they became rectangular and capable of generating real lift. 

One year later David Barish, a consultant for NASA, developed the Sailwing (a single-surface wing). He was the first to practice what he called "Slope Soaring" on a ski slope at Hunter Mountain, near New York, dropping 200 feet. 

Although Barish was technically the first "paraglider," the activity did not catch on and fell into oblivion for more than a decade. 

On June 25, 1978, in Mieussy (17 miles from my hometown of Montriond, in Haute-Savoie) three parachutists from the Annemasse aero-club decided to take off from a Mieussy slope instead of jumping from a plane to save on flying costs. 

Their idea came from reading an article in the 1972 Parachute manual that referenced David Barish's Sloape Soaring. Jean-Claude Bétemps, who will turn 77 this year, often called the father of paragliding, was the one who performed the very first test (a small jump down the slope).

André Bohn: a high-level Swiss skydiver followed and made the first true sustained flight later that year, taking off from a slope on Mont Pethuiset and landing 1000 meters lower in the valley, on the Mieussy football field. 

Gérard Bosson structured the activity and in 1979, founded, with Michel Didriche and Georges Perret, the world's first paragliding club and school: "Les Choucas" in Mieussy. He was instrumental in promoting the sport internationally. 

Tomorrow, will see how further improvements and adaptations have molded the practice of paragliding...

Age and risk-taking

The accident just sustained by Lindsey Vonn at the Olympics reminds me of another ski comeback, that of Bill Johnson, former downhill Olympic champion at the 1984 Sarajevo Games. At age 40, weighed down by personal struggles and chasing a sense of former glory, he attempted an improbable return for the 2002 Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City. 

The bid ended abruptly on March 22, 2001, when Johnson crashed during a training run before the downhill race at the US Alpine Championships in Montana. The injuries were catastrophic — severe brain trauma, a nearly severed tongue, and a three‑week coma. His body simply couldn’t cash the checks his competitive instinct kept writing.

I’m not in Lindsey’s head, but watching her come in fast, catch air, catch the gate and lose control, we can almost feel the split-second where instinct and physiology parted ways. That’s the paradox of aging: the mind stays young, hungry, convinced it can still summon the same reactions, while the body quietly rewrites the limits. 

The gap between intention and execution becomes just wide enough for disaster to slip through. I half-jokingly call this the “Biden syndrome” — not political commentary, but a shorthand for that universal human illusion that we’re still 25 on the inside. It’s a reminder that experience doesn’t always compensate for the slow erosion of reaction time, balance, and resilience. 

More than ever, I’ll try to learn from this when I ski or drive. Respecting one’s limits isn’t cowardice; it’s wisdom earned the hard way by others who pushed past theirs.

Why older skiers can’t get back up? (Part Two)

Besides what we covered yesterday, aging also affects the inner ear, joint receptors, and neural pathways that tell us where we’re in space. This makes it harder to coordinate the “roll, plant, push” sequence needed to stand up on snow. 

Balance decline is one of the major contributors to fall‑related difficulty in older adults. On flat terrain, where gravity can’t help us, this deficit becomes even more obvious. Even strong older athletes experience slower reaction times and reduced “explosive” force, like that quick impulse needed to rise from the ground. 

This isn’t just muscle mass; it’s the nervous system firing more slowly and less efficiently. As we age, knees, hips, and spine lose flexibility and range of motion. Getting up from a fall requires hip rotation, knee and ankle flexion and the ability to bring the torso over the center of mass. Our ski boots lock the ankles, so the hips and knees must do even more work in the exact places where stiffness tends to accumulate. 

Then there’s fear as older adults often hesitate to do what they remember doing because they’re subconsciously protecting joints or worried about falling again. This “mental brake” or apprehension, reduces the fluidity needed to stand up efficiently. 

Ski instructors who work with older clients emphasize that getting up with skis attached is dramatically harder unless the slope is steep enough to help position the hips above the feet. On flat terrain, people get stuck and the only way out of a fall is to release the bindings and take off the skis.

Heli‑ski operators know this, which is why they often restrict older skiers, not because they are not good enough to ski, but because they may not be able to self‑recover after a fall in deep snow and will unnecessarily hold the group. 

So the obvious conclusion of this quick discussion is to avoid falling and if this still happens remember that we’re goddamn lucky to still ski as septuagenarians or even older!

Olympics opening ceremony

Yesterday afternoon, skiing wasn’t good enough to go out and try to have fun, so, instead my wife and I watched the entire Olympic ceremony. Something we hadn’t done in a very long time. We liked some of the acts, like as always the athletes' presentation and fashion show in which the best outfit is the enemy of the good.

Some acts were a bit over the top, but that’s a question of personal taste. We found the event far too long. Almost 3 hours could have been done in two. I liked it when J.D. Vance and Israel got jeered. 

Still, we liked the speech by Zimbabwe’s Kirsty Coventry, the new President of the International Olympic Committee (IOC) as of June 2025. 

We felt bad that people still die in Sudan, Gaza and Ukraine, while thousands have fun in Italy, but I guess humanity can still walk and watch their smartphones at the same time…