Park City and I-80

When we first moved to Park City, for four years, I was commuting every day on I-80 (Interstate 80) to Salt Lake City. I only traveled on the sole and previous road, Route 40, in 1971, but was asleep and didn’t remember a thing. 

Then, in 1980, I drove from Salt Lake to Park City on I-80 in 1980, but didn’t know how that impressive stretch of Interstate highway came to life. After doing some research. I found that I-80 was finally completed in the SLC airport area on August 22, 1986, while the specific stretch I knew so well between Salt Lake City and Kimball Junction (Park City) had been completed in 1973.

At that point, the entire 2,907-mile I-80 (from San Francisco to New Jersey) became the world’s longest completed freeway, and Salt Lake City became the "Golden Spike" of the Interstate Era. The transformation of the old two-lane US-40 into the mostly six-lane I-80 was one of the most difficult engineering feats in Utah's highway history due to the narrow, vertical walls of Parley's Canyon. The timeline of completion that follows speaks volumes about the work required that spanned from 1962 to 1973. 

• 1850: Parley P. Pratt completed the "Golden Pass Toll Road", marking the first time wagons could bypass the much steeper Emigration Canyon. 
• Late 1950s: With the passage of the Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956, plans began to upgrade US-40 into a controlled-access freeway. 
• 1962: The section from Wanship to Silver Creek opened, which provided the first major "freeway" feel east of Kimball Junction. 
• 1969–1970 (The Big Closure): The most disruptive phase. A 5.5-mile section of Parley’s Canyon was completely closed to traffic for 9 months (October 1, 1969, to July 23, 1970). Drivers had to detour through Emigration Canyon or Weber Canyon to reach Park City. 
• 1971: The westbound lanes of the canyon stretch were officially opened in July, completing the four-lane "split" through the lower canyon. 
• 1973: The final segment between Mountain Dell Reservoir and Kimball Junction was completed, officially linking the Salt Lake Valley to Park City with a high-speed divided highway. 

Building a modern freeway through a narrow mountain corridor presented obstacles that required "brute force" engineering, like massive rock blasting. To fit six lanes of traffic into the lower canyon, engineers had to use millions of pounds of dynamite to blast away the sheer quartzite and limestone cliffs. 

This is why there are dramatic vertical rock cuts today near the mouth of the canyon. The thing that always amazed me was that the highway was essentially built "on top" of the creek in its lower section, with massive culverts installed and multiple shifting of water paths multiple times to make room for the roadbed. 

Managing the steep ascent to Parley's Summit (6% grade to reach from 4,610 to 7,120 feet) was a major concern for heavy trucks. Designing "runaway truck ramps" and the wide, sweeping curves was also essential to prevent the high-speed accidents that plagued the old US-40. 

Construction in 1967 near the mouth of the canyon required massive amounts of "fill" dirt, which nearly buried the local landmark known as Suicide Rock (it now sits much lower relative to the freeway than it did originally). 

Because the summit is over 7,000 feet, crews could only work effectively for a few months a year. Sudden mountain snowstorms frequently shut down construction and destroyed fresh roadwork, but in the end, it contributed to make Park City the world's most accessible ski town from an international airport!

4-20 Explosive turn?

Imagine that you’re skiing very, very fast. Let’s say a high speed GS type of turn, you are in the last section of the curve and your exterior foot is suddenly freed from the ski. No, I’m not talking about the binding pre-releasing, but about your very own boot exploding or better yet, disintegrating. 

I don’t have to tell you that you don’t want that to happen while you’re skiing, and this is why, a few days ago, Head USA just announced a voluntary recall of approximately 1,890 pairs of high-end ski boots across North America. 

The recall comes after reports that the boot’s shell and sole inserts can spontaneously deteriorate and break, potentially turning a smooth run down the mountain into a dangerous fall. The recall specifically impacts the fluorescent yellow materials used in the construction of the boot shell and sole. 

According to the brand, these components can become brittle and crack, compromising the structural integrity of the boot. While the thought of our boot disintegrating mid-carve is enough to give any skier pause, the US Consumer Product Safety Commission (CPSC) confirmed that no injuries have been reported to date. 

In my years in the boot business, we had a few warranty claims for broken boots, but from what I can remember the breakage happened during storage. Head is moving proactively to pull the remaining stock and alert owners before the "deterioration" leads to a documented accident. 

The affected boots were sold nationwide at specialized ski retailers and through various online platforms. Given that these boots have been on the market for over a decade (spanning from late 2015 through early 2026), many skiers may still have these boots. Just check yours if they happen to be Head! 

Making it look easy is so hard!

Recently, I enjoyed watching an interview of this year’s Alpine ski world cup winners Mikaela Shiffrin and Marco Odermatt. This talk, meant to be a podcast, was conducted by Nick Fellows, the official FIS interviewer. In it, Mikaela said that when people watched her they felt that her skiing looked seemingly easy and effortless, but it was in fact real hard work and no one wanted to realize it. I have to agree. 

What she meant is one of those deceptively simple truths that only makes sense if we’ve lived inside a craft long enough to feel the gap between how mastery looks and what it costs. Since I’m so immersed into skiing, her comment resonates at a deeper level than she even intended. Here’s what I would add, not to correct her, but to expand the idea into something more complete and more honest about high‑level performance. 

When skiing looks “easy,” it’s because the skier has spent thousands of hours removing friction, noise, hesitation, and micro‑errors. In turn, when we watch the skier, we only see fluidity, balance, inevitability and grace. But what we can’t see are the thousands of invisible corrections per minute, a nervous system trained to anticipate chaos, a body that has experienced every type of failure and a mind that has learned to stay quiet under pressure. 

In fact, effortlessness is not the absence of effort but it is its full integration. In fact, for whatever we’re good at doing, the better we get, the more invisible the inner details of our work becomes. This is the paradox of mastery where beginners show their effort, experts hide it and masters erase it. In my example, Shiffrin and Odermatt ski in a way that makes our brain relax when we watch them, but inside their bodies, the workload is enormous, with edge control at an infinitely small level, pressure management that changes every fraction of a second and a constant recalibration of line, timing, and snow feedback. 

We see what happens on the surface, but Marco and Mikaela live the turbulence beneath it. That is when all assume: “She’s gifted. He’s gifted. It must be easy for them.” Yet, talent is real, but it’s only the ignition, what we don’t see is the relentless, boring, repetitive, lonely work that turns talent into inevitability. Mastery requires a relationship with discomfort that very few people ever develop. This is the part Mikaela didn’t say out loud, but it’s the truth, as most of us don’t want to realize how hard it is because they don’t want to imagine choosing that level of discomfort. 

Finally, mastery is lonely and this is the part people rarely talk about. The higher one’s climb, the fewer people can truly understand what they’re doing, so when Mikaela says people don’t want to realize how hard it is, she’s also saying: “Most people can’t imagine the world I live in.” And she’s right. 

The imperfect Donald Trump

Like most of us, Trump isn’t perfect. To start a on positive note, he must be credited for transforming time that used to go so fast before he became our dictator, literally screech to a halt, becoming almost eternal. 

On the negative side, he’s got many, many more negative character traits that we’ll cover below, I see a very impatient Trump and suspect he’s exhibiting behaviors consistent with adult ADHD, including inattentiveness, impulsivity, and hyperactivity, that translate into a huge dose of impatience. Critics cite frequent interruptions and a short attention span, though no formal, public diagnosis exists, but a keen observation of the man suggests. 

Obviously, impatience in a head of state is not a desirable trait because it often leads to hasty decisions, poor judgment, and damaged diplomatic or political relationships, rather than thoughtful, long-term strategy. While it can occasionally create a useful sense of urgency, it more commonly causes excessive risk-taking, strategic failures, and high stress among staff. 

Of course, I have, over his two terms, that his impatience could be seen as the tip of the iceberg if we turned the Donald ice cube around. At rest his iceberg shows narcissism and extreme egotism . Me, me, me is his mantra. Although it could be assimilated the impatience we mention above, impulsivity and erratic behavior follow as he is unable to maintain focus or follow established protocols, leading to abrupt policy changes via social media. 

In consdering that he's the fleshy son of Geppeto, father of Pinocchio, his lies, dishonesty and lack of truthfulness documented by thousands of fake or misleading statements drive the nail further into his lack of credibility. Then, there is bullying and aggressive demeanor that he must have learned from his biological dad and from the New York mafia. 

To conclude, he also needs to be vindictive and obsessed with revenge through a tireless drive to pursue retribution against those perceived as disloyal or antagonistic. This all adds up to winning the Satanic Evil Prize, short of making the nominees list for the Nobel Peace Prize! 

Ski racing and singing…

There are things I should have known 60 years ago, but it’s never too late to learn them as long as it happens, especiallybefore one’s death. A few days ago, a very old French song jingled in my memory and I wondered if I could find it, somehow, somewhere. After some pointless search, I asked a few of my good friends back in France and one of them directed me straight to the song in question, right on YouTube. 

In the process and totally unbeknownst to me, I also found out that Guy Périllat, a famous member of the French Ski Team during the sixties, who had won the bronze at the 1960 Olympics, won most of the classic downhill races in 1961, was GS world champion in 1966 and was silver medal behind Killy at the 1968 Olympics, had recording some songs on the tracks of his racing success and national notoriety. 

Just after his medal at the 1960 Squaw Valley Games and his following record 1960-1961 season, Périllat fell for a singing career. It was a breve incursion into the pop music scene that was marked by recording an EP in 1961 with Polydor, including the song: "L'amour me brûle" (love’s burning me) with lyrics written by Ralph Bernet (one of Johnny Hallyday’s lyricists), and music by Danyel Gérard another French pop artist. 

That song was highly typical of the early 1960s ("crooner" style). At the time, there was such a "Périllat-mania" in France that record labels sought to capitalize on his image as "ideal son-in-law" and national hero. While his career on the slopes was legendary, his singing career remained a mere curiosity that faded very fast. 

This record can still be found today among vinyl collectors, It’s often sought after more for the champion's cover photo than its musical quality. Had he practiced skiing a little more instead of getting distracted by his jaunt into the show business, he might have beaten Killy! 

Envious or Jealous? (Part Three)

Often Jealousy is confused with Envy. I like to call them “cousins”, as they’re closely related emotions because they both stem from discomfort and insecurity. Yet, they’re distinct, Envy involves desiring what someone else has, while Jealousy involves the fear of losing what we already have to someone else. In fact Envy is the pain we feel when someone else has something we want. 

For instance, I’ve been envious all winter long of the great snow my friends enjoyed in the Alps while we a terrible lack of snow in the North American Rockies. Envy is about desire and comparison, not loss. It can be about talent, beauty, freedom, relationships, lifestyle, opportunities and of course, fantastic skiing! Envy is fundamentally one‑to‑one: we want something someone else possesses. 

On the other hand, as we’ve already discussed, Jealousy is the fear of losing something we already have to someone. Jealousy is about threat, not desire. Envy is “I want what you have” and Jealousy is “I fear losing what I have.” This distinction is ancient, shows up across cultures and languages and suggests the hidden engine moving consumerism..

As a feeling, Envy pulls our attention toward the other person, creates longing, comparison, self‑evaluation and can motivate growth or trigger shame. Jealousy pulls our attention toward some kind of threat, creating vigilance, protectiveness, insecurity, it also can strengthen bonds or create conflict. Both feelings activate different psychological systems. 

Envy means aspiration and comparison, while jealousy is linked to attachments and the resulting threat to them. If you feel envy, the question this brings up is: “What desire in me is being awakened?” Like with Jealousy, Envy becomes a map, not a moral judgment. While both feelings can be constructive if managed well, envy and jealousy are not identical, making envy more likely to be considered a flaw than jealousy. 

Both function as important signals for unfulfilled desires rather than inherent moral failings, but envy is more frequently linked to undesirable, negative and destructive behaviors. I hope my explanation didn’t make you envious and stopped jealousy on its tracks! 

Hello, I’m jealous! (Part Two)

After we’ve seen what jealousy is, we could ask ourselves where does it come from? The first question that crossed my mind was if the feeling of jealousy innate? The answer seems to be YES and deeply so. Across cultures, ages, and even species, jealousy appears in predictable patterns. 

One is evolutionary, as it serves us to protect the traditional family cell and ensure parental investment, as well as maintaining our social rank and preventing any loss of resources. It’s not a moral failing; it’s an ancient alarm system that might misfire in modern life and culture.

Jealousy is also not created equal as some of us individuals feel more jealous than others. This is where it gets interesting. I discovered that jealousy isn’t just about the situation, it’s about how our thinking works and how we feel emotions. Some personal dispositions can amplify jealousy, the ways we get attached. 

For instance if it’s anxiety, we feel the strongest jealousy. If we avoid attachment, it’s suppressed but still present. On the other hand if our attachment is secure, we feel the jealousy but it doesn’t dominate us. The stability of our self-esteem also affects our feelings. When I was younger, my self-esteem was weak and this led me to countless flares of jealousy. 

However when success came and gave me more confidence, I was far less prone to that sentiment. It’s clear that if our identity is tightly tied to a relationship, a social or professional role, a skill or any specific position, so any threat to these domains may trigger jealousy. Some of us are wired to track hierarchy and belonging more acutely than others, and can feel shifts in attention or status like a draft in a room. 

Finally, our brain is learning on the go and picking up patterns, so our past experiences of loss or betrayal teaches our brain that jealousy can be used as a guardrail to make sure that none of these past situations happen again. I would add that if we’ve experienced poverty at some moment in our lives, like it’s been my case, we’ve developed a sense of scarcity. 

So, if we think that love is scarce, opportunities are scarce and attention is scarce, jealousy becomes a default reaction. To conclude, I propose a better way to think about jealousy. Let’s not treat it as a problem, but as data. Jealousy always answers one of these questions: 

• What am I afraid of losing? 
• What part of my identity feels threatened? 
• What scarcity am I perceiving? 
• What story am I telling myself about my worth? 
• What past wound is being reactivated? 

If we can train ourselves to decode these different signals, the jealousy we feel becomes a map rather than a trap. Tomorrow, we’ll talk about Envy, that special cousin of Jealousy...

Hello, I’m jealous! (Part One)

Often, I wonder what triggers the feeling of jealousy? Is it innate and what dispositions makes it stronger with certain individuals? From what I have felt and observed, I’d say that jealousy isn’t random, and it isn’t a flaw either. It’s one of the oldest emotional systems we’ve evolved, signaling us to protect things that we feel essential, like relationships, status, belonging, identity, and security. 

I have experienced enough jealousy through my life to have grown familiar with that pesky monster every time I wasn’t feeling self-secured enough. In researching that feeling, we can understand what jealousy is trying to protect and it becomes far less mysterious. I’ve taken the time to look at that sneaky feeling and what I’ve found is that they’re human situations that will be guaranteed to trigger jealousy.

Almost all cases fall into one of these categories. First, a valued relationship is threatened, whether it is of romantic, familial, or friendly nature. For instance, if someone else gets attention when we feel it should be going to us, or if our partner seems drawn to another person or a friend invests more into someone else. These are classic cases, the jealousy we feel is like a guard dog that watches for what’s attached to us. 

Next there’s a form of jealousy we rarely admit, a threat to our status or our identity. In that situation, a colleague gets praised for something we normally excel at, or someone enters our social circle with a skill we’re known for. Another instance is a co-worker that succeeds in a domain tied to our self-worth. In all these situations our jealousy acts as a protector of what makes our specific identity or strength. 

Another category is a threat to our resources, whether they are emotional, social, or material. For example, someone else gets the job we were hoping for, a sibling receives a larger share of an inheritance or a coworker gets more access to the big boss. All these cases respond to perceived scarcity. Finally, there’s the threat of belonging. 

We’re tribal animals and we don’t want to be excluded. So we get jealous when we’re being left out of plans or of team, when we’re not invited to a party, when we see others bond without us or feel we’re replaced in a working group. This tells us that we’re socially displaced. This pretty much sets the stage for the causes of jealousy and in the next blog, we’ll see how jealousy gets inside us.

Theocracy and nuclear weapons (Part Three)

Just as I see religion, I personally see theocracy as highly irrational and it makes me nervous when such a government is armed with nuclear weapons. Since a theocracy is based on "irrational" beliefs, it becomes the subject of intense philosophical and political debate. 

Now there are people who view religious faith as a valid form of knowledge. Based on analysis from political philosophy and historical examples, theocracy is generally considered to be built on metaphysical, rather than empirical or rational, foundation. 

Mystical belief is considered by some not irrational, but rather "non-rational" or "arational"(like intuitive) because it operates outside the scope of empirical logic and scientific verification, often deemed an experiential, internal, or subjective reality rather than a direct contradiction to objective reality. Talk about semantics and the dog biting its tail! 

Arational sounds irrational or flimsy enough to me! It is argued to be an "arational" experience, something that cannot be validated or refuted with logical evidence. I simply don’t buy that either and I’m not the only one, as many critics argue that organized religion uses mystical beliefs to establish social control, maintain hierarchy, and enforce conformity. 

Religious doctrines are designed to maintain social solidarity or support the power of elites, rather than to reflect objective truth. Further, religious beliefs are instilled at a young age, before critical thinking skills are fully developed, creating a "blind spot" in a person's thinking process. 

There’s also another “glue” called fear (of hell, in particular) and the comfort it provides rather than evidence, making it a "hoax" that keeps people on a "straight and narrow" path. Finally religion is often used to fill knowledge gaps with "God" whenever science does not have a ready answer, an illogical approach to understanding reality. 

While critics cite Israel's non-signatory status to the NPT, possession of nuclear weapons, and demands on Iran as hypocritical, defenders argue that Israel’s security is under threat by a nation that has called for its destruction, making it a matter of survival and not just legal hypocrisy. Yet, Israel’s terrible reputation has been “earned” in almost 8 decades of maltreatment of the Palestinian people. 

I’ll conclude by saying that seeing folks like Bibi and the Ayatollah armed with nukes does not give me any peace of mind. I also know it’s not much better than the two Godless, Trump and Putin!

Theocracy and nuclear weapons (Part Two)

The question of whether a theocracy or a pseudo-theocracy should have access to nuclear weapons is a subject of intense debate among international security experts, theologians, and political scientists. 

The consensus from most international bodies and democratic states is that nuclear proliferation in any non-democratic or highly ideological regime poses significant risks, though some argue that the specific nature of a theocracy introduces unique challenges. 

Israel's policy of "nuclear opacity" (Amimut) is generally tolerated due to its strategic alliance with the West, its lack of membership in the Non Proliferation Treaty (NPT), and perception as a responsible, non-aggressive actor, with of course the exception of its out-of-control current leader Bibi Netanyahu.

Conversely, Iran faces denial of nuclear weapon access because it’s a NPT signatory accused of violating commitments, thus triggering international constraints and fears of regional arms proliferation. 

So when you compare Iran to Israel, the former mistakenly signed the NPT, while Israel hypocritically refused to, amassed an arsenal of nukes and still looks clean before the Judaeo-Christian community that ignores its nuclear status. 

Something is clearly askew with that picture! Tomorrow will dig deeper into the religious excuse and its wild interpretation when circumstances make it necessary…

Theocracy and nuclear weapons (Part One)

The war started by the US and Israel against Iran, begs the question as to whether a theocracy should have access to nuclear weapons? Not a good idea, in my view. This, of course, is a subject of intense debate among international security experts, theologians, and political scientists. But before even debating this, aren’t both Israel and Iran bona fide “theocracies”? 

Since Iran is a Muslim country being judged by Judaeo-Christian cultures, everyone in the West seems to agree that it’s a theocracy. Since the 1979 Revolution, it has operated as an "Islamic Republic" governed by a doctrine known as Vilayat-e faqih (Guardianship of the Jurist), which places ultimate political and legal authority in the hands of a senior Shia cleric known as the Supreme Leader.

On the other end, Western civilization looks the other way when it only sees Israel as a democratic parliamentary republic and not a theocracy. While it defines itself as a "Jewish and Democratic State" and incorporates religious law (Halakha) into personal status matters like marriage and divorce, it lacks a supreme religious ruler and has a democratically elected Knesset. 

 However, it is a subject of debate regarding the influence of the Orthodox Rabbinate on law. So, let’s admit that it’s a little bit theocratic. 

Now, here comes the sticky point. Israel is widely estimated to possess around 100 nuclear warheads, although the estimates range from 80 to over 300. Israel maintains a policy of nuclear ambiguity, neither confirming nor denying its nuclear capabilities. It’s believed to have produced enough plutonium for 100–200 weapons, which can be delivered by aircraft, missiles, and submarines. 

With this in mind, Israel maintains a policy of "nuclear opacity" (neither confirming nor denying its nuclear arsenal) primarily to achieve strategic deterrence without triggering a regional arms race, inviting international sanctions, or violating US non-proliferation laws. This "open secret" allows Israel to deter adversaries while avoiding the political obligations of being an acknowledged nuclear state. 

A really sneaky, dishonest way to handle things in my view. Tomorrow, we’ll continue by taking a special look at Iran, at religion’s relation with weapons of mass destruction and whether both countries should be prevented from having such weapons or not, so please stay tuned...

A revised view of the winter season

Just a few extra observations: 

I have lived through three snow droughts during my short life and my 72 seasons of skiing: First in 1963-1964 in France, then in the West during the 1976-1977 season while I was still living in New York and finally this 2025-2026 winter season. What’s my take-away? 

For one thing, a winter with little or no snow is totally demoralizing. It makes you feel things like: “Will a normal winter ever return?” It casts doubt on the future of skiing and closes the door to a positive outlook. Sure, we feel the exact opposite of folks in New England, in Europe or Hokkaidō that enjoyed a wonderful snow season, but we’re woefully unable to feel their glee… 

Of course, in the context of what goes on in Gaza, Iran, Lebanon, Sudan and Ukraine, these considerations are trivial... 

At the same time we all know that everything is cyclical and good, average and we try to remind ourselves that bad situations come and go, just like good and mediocre ones, so there ‘s hope that better ones will eventually return, but we’ll have to keep in mind that great, normal and worse are hooked on the same cycle. 

Finally, there’s no way we can remove the sobering element, the “elephant in the room” that climate change is. This horrible trend not only isn’t going away, but is likely going to deepen, make greatness less likely, normalcy not so good, while exceptional years will become rarer and terrible circumstances start trending as the norm. 

Did I forget anything?

The aftermath of change-making

Today, inspired by the book we discussed previously, we’ll explore how major, unexpected life disruptions can often transform ourselves in finding new, unexpected directions and growth opportunities within ourselves. 

This is something I particularly enjoy because I naturally like to think in terms of systems, patterns, and long arcs. I’m not just happy to see that “change happens”; I want to understand how change can transform me, change my personality and my identity. 

I also want to evaluate whether a change was good or bad, how we can integrate change into a coherent life story. I’m also curious to know what skills can make us more adaptive than reactive. 

What follows is a framework that addresses these questions. It could work like this: Every change — chosen or imposed — creates four layers of consequences. By analyzing all four, we’ll get a complete picture. 

• It starts with the external aftermath. What objectively has changed in our lives? A job, a location, a relationship, a set of routines and a bunch of constraints. This is the easiest, but also the least interesting layer. 
• Then, as expected, comes the internal aftermath. For instance, what shifted in our identity? Elements like confidence, worldview, sense of agency and emotional tone. This is where we’re talking about a real life changing story. 
• Now comes the narrative aftermath that begs the question, how do we explain the change to ourselves? As it relates to loss, liberation, accident, destiny or just a lesson. We humans don’t live in events; we live in the stories we tell about events. 
• This process concludes with the fourth layer, the skill aftermath. What new capacities have emerged in us? Traits like resilience, perceptual acuity, intuition, adaptability and pattern recognition. This last layer is the opportunity to let our personal strengths shine as we’ve already spent a lifetime turning change into skill. 

I don’t know about you, but this framework works well for me, because it mirrors the way I think naturally. A form of thinking that’s layered, analytical, experiential, meaning‑driven and oriented toward some sense of control and mastery. It can also turn any change — past or future — into something I can debate, evaluate, and learn from.

Completing my ski instructor certification

Just over fifty years ago, I finally got my full French ski instructor certification after a four week training session in Chamonix, France. Between the auxiliary diploma and the national diploma, I spent €2 200 in today’s Euros. Today, the total cost ranges from €15,000 to €25,000 for the entire program (which lasts, on average, 4 to 6 years). 

Since these days, the training of instructors at the École Nationale de ski et d’alpinisme (ENSA) has undergone a profound transformation, evolving from a traditional mountain craft into a highly qualified profession in sports education. First, the educational background and prerequisites changed enormously. 

In the 1970s, training was accessible to candidates with only a minimal level of formal schooling. The top level of certification was perceived primarily as a validation of technical proficiency. Many instructors were "locals", working as farmers, small business employees or tradespeople during the summer months, for whom skiing was a natural skill rather than the result of a formal scholarly training. 

Today, although no university degree is required to enroll, the complexity of the theoretical examinations (anatomy, physiology, theory of skiing, and the legal aspect of the job demands a level of comprehension equivalent to that of at least a high school diploma or higher. The curriculum is now integrated into the LMD system (Bachelor’s-Master’s-Doctorate) in terms of training credits, reflecting the profession's increased sophistication. Then comes the proficiency in foreign languages. 

Back in the 1970s, language proficiency was at best rudimentary and often limited to a few key phrases used to run a lesson (like the comical "Bend your knees," "Follow me", “Fifty Dollars please”. Instruction was essentially visual and based on imitation. Today’s knowing and mastering a foreign language has become a key element of the profession. The final examination (comprising the “Eurotest” and a specific language proficiency test) requires genuine mastery. 

Given the internationalization of the clientele, an instructor must often juggle English (which is mandatory) and frequently a second language—such as Russian, Dutch, or Portuguese—in order to explain complex technical concepts and ensure safety. 

Then comes what I always felt was a huge weakness in the French curriculum, technical and pedagogical skills. In my days, the primary emphasis was placed on the "straight run" and the “Christiania” turn. The teaching approach was directive and standardized: the instructor demonstrated, and the student replicated. Safety was managed in a more intuitive, less formalized manner. 

Today, however, the advent of the shaped skis has revolutionized instruction with more emphasis on carved instead of skidded turns. In terms of pedagogy, differentiated instruction is now employed in which the instructor adapts to the student's psychology, energy levels, and personal goals. In addition, today’s instructors are trained not only in alpine skiing but also in snowboarding, telemark skiing, cross-country skiing, and adaptive skiing. 

Finally, safety is no longer taken for granted. In the 70s, knowledge of the mountain environment was empirical, passed down by seasoned veterans. Off-piste skiing was less regulated, and rescue tools (such as avalanche transceivers) were scarce. Today, the instructor’s training includes advanced courses in snow science, meteorology, and avalanche risk management. The proper use of avalanche transceivers (DVA), probes, and shovels is subject to rigorous examination. 

So, as you can read a quantum leap in skills is what’s offered to skiers who need or want ski instruction!

The way we learn from books (Part Two)

It’s actually quite common to enjoy a book like Maya Shankar’s “The Other Side of Change” yet walk away feeling as if nothing stuck. And that “zero‑takeaway” sensation is not my failure of comprehension, but rather a clue about the way my mind processes ideas. 

Let’s try to explore that issue of style of communication, and then offer a more powerful way to think — and debate — the aftermath of change. There is no framework in the stories that were offered to me in that book, still it was pleasant to read, emotionally touching, but hard to retrieve and cognitively slippery. I must be someone who thrives on frameworks, systems, and meaning‑making. 

A book that doesn’t offer those explicitly typically never leaves a strong imprint in me. To begin with, the topic (change) is too universal When a book describes something we’ve lived deeply — and many of us have lived a life full of reinvention, adaptation, and resilience — the ideas can feel like things we already know intuitively. 

As a result, our mind goes: “Yes, yes, I’ve lived this. Nothing new here.” True, familiarity reduces memorability. Another way to look at how books impact our minds is that without friction there is no retention. We all tend to remember ideas that challenge us, provoke us, or contradict our assumptions. When the tone of a book is gentle, validating, and non‑confrontational, it doesn’t push back against your worldview and provoke us to pay attention. 

We could say that pleasant reading creates almost no cognitive tension and doesn’t make much of an imprint on us. A book too easy to read works more like a reflection and less as a mind-opening tool. In that particular subject of “Change”, a book should be philosophical (why change matters), psychological (how change affects identity) and practical (how to navigate change). 

That book covered these two first points but left me hoping for the third one. In a next blog, we’ll return to the subject of that book and this time, explore how to actually debate the aftermath of change.

The way we learn from books (Part One)

I just finished reading “The other side of change”, a book by cognitive scientist Maya Shankar that explores how major, unexpected life disruptions can lead to profound personal transformation, blending personal stories with scientific research to offer a guide for navigating upheaval and finding new meaning and potential within ourselves. 

Shankar, host of the “A Slight Change of Plans” podcast, uses narratives of people facing events like job loss, illness, or relationship endings to illustrate universal lessons about resilience, identity, and growth, encouraging readers to see change as an opportunity for reimagining who they can be. 

I enjoyed reading the book, but must admit that its contents glided on me like water over ice. The book was experiential, not instructional as the author wrote it in a reflective, narrative style. It’s warm, empathetic, and story‑driven but not prescriptive. 

My brain brain enjoyed the flow but didn’t get any clear “hooks” to store. Has this ever happened to you? This aspect of book retention is a subject I need to dig a bit deeper into, and report my findings to you, so expect that subject to populate my next blog…

Our first and only apartment

Fifty years ago, the day after we got married, both my spouse and I drove to Nevers, on the Loire river, smack in the center of France, to begin my new job as product manager for Look bindings. 

At first, we rented a house in nearby Challuy and the following month we purchased a small, 393 square foot apartment right in the heart of Nevers, on a 3rd floor in a building that must be harking back at least to the 16th century. 

The stone steps were so used up that they were carved out under long and heavy foot traffic like those of the old castle, there was a musky, old smell in the air and we had more difficulties climbing to the third level than we would have today, which says a lot about our physical shape in these days. 

We parked our Citroën Dyane 6, in the street just below. Historic charm certainly has its limits and we sure didn’t enjoy living in Nevers, a small town that went from 75,000 to around 65,000 people today, nor did I enjoy my job with the company, so I resigned and we sold the apartment when we left Nevers. 

Between the acquisition cost, some major improvements (a new roof) and factoring what would have been the cost of renting a place for 14 months, we even managed to make some money... 

Today, our apartment’s interior has been markedly improved from when we had it, but according to Booking.com’s guest comments the funny smell still lingers in the staircase!

Moon shot or Iran war?

As we were watching the launch of Artemis II on Wednesday, my wife asked me how much money this jaunt around the moon would cost the US taxpayers, when we have so many unmet other priorities. Before I go any further, please remember that we’re talking about money the United States doesn't have and will pile up onto our soon-to-be $40 trillion debt. 

The answer is over $4 billion a ride. If we look at the four missions from I to IV, they’ll amount to some $16.4 billion based on NASA’s Inspector General estimate. This figure reflects per‑mission operating cost (SLS + Orion + ground systems) and does not include the massive development costs of the Artemis program as a whole. 

Overall, the total cost, with each mission should amount to about $100 billion if we were to stay on budget. Artemis is essentially rebuilding the entire US deep‑space exploration stack from scratch and including new heavy‑lift rockets (SLS), a deep‑space crew vehicle (Orion), Lunar infrastructure (Gateway, landers), new ground systems and long‑term lunar operations planning. 

As always is the case in these projects, expect the budgeted $93 billion to cost Americans well over $100 billion… 

Now we can contrast that with the war in Iran, where the “excursion” as Trump likes to call his belligerent action, has already cost us $30 to $40 billion depending on the estimates (not factoring the heavy economic consequences worldwide), not including 3 to 5,000 dead and property damage on the Iranian side, and it’s far from over. 

So when I compare these two expenditures, I’d take space exploration any day if I had to choose between this and an unnecessary war.

What really makes us successful ?

If someone had asked me that question, I would have said “Passion” for something that led me into a lifelong activity propelling me to success, but I recently read an article in Inc. magazine that opened my eyes on that subject. According to the piece I read, it wasn’t a trait that traditionally gets the spotlight like creativity, innovation, culture or vision, yet it was often the difference-maker. 

At least the late Steve Jobs thought so. He was not romanticizing resilience. He knew what it meant to keep going when things were bad, like after being fired from Apple, starting over with NeXT, then returning to build one of the most valuable companies in the world. His point wasn’t that talent, timing, or product don’t matter. Without persistence, none of those advantages can come to fruition.

It makes me think of Sisyphus who had to push that boulder up the hill to fully seize the concept of perseverance. We need to get into our heads that failures and setbacks don’t define us; they refine us. The best leaders don’t just move on after getting knocked to the ground; they bounce back and process to dissect what went wrong, what’s still worth pursuing, and what needs to change. That means gathering feedback and data from various sources. 

For example, we can all learn from an idea or an endeavor that flops as it reveals what’s wrong with it. It often exposes gaps in preparation or execution. If we are capable of treating setbacks as feedback systems, we’ll turn dead ends into stepping stones. We just need to remember that every failure always reveals to us some reasons for happening. Perseverance is easier if we’re committed to the reason why we pursue certain dreams. 

Of course, perseverance doesn’t mean charging ahead with a bad idea. It means picking a worthwhile goal and staying committed to it while being flexible in the ways we reach it. If our strategy isn’t working, simply adjust the plan without abandoning the vision. Studies on grit show us that sustained passion and perseverance over time are stronger predictors of success than IQ or talent alone. In retrospect, if I had valued persistence throughout my life, I would have gone much farther, but realizing how important it was came likes small crumbs of wisdom each time I missed a step. 

With enough failures that I can admit today, I finally got it. The leaders who refuse to quit, who show up one more time after setbacks, are the ones who ultimately cross the finish line. When we’re facing a day, week or an extended period of bad news, let’s ask ourselves: “Are we at a dead end, or is it just the natural friction of progress?” Before tossing in the towel, let’s give perseverance another chance. It might be the very thing that separates us from the rest.

Lessons learned from another ski season…

Another ski season is now over, so it’s time to conduct the annual debriefing and find out what I learned as a skier and more importantly as a human being through the turns I’ve made. 

This season stood out for its lack of snow and its subsequent shortness all over the Western US. That’s mostly why skiing looked to be more of a chore than a thrilling experience, but still, I forced myself to go and discover new ways to have fun in a universe of scarcity and keep on learning new things and skills by “pushing the envelope” in the direction of doing “difficult things”. 

When advanced skiers were skiing like beginners as the conditions got extremely tough, I did my very best to stay graceful and nimble on my pair of boards and make something out of nothing, or if you prefer “turning lemons into lemonade”. I learned a few new tricks like using the edge of a run creatively to work my way down an overcrowded spot by passing folks in places they wouldn’t go, using speed defensively and also cutting my way into slush, ice or other heavy types of snow. 

In more than one way I discovered adaptation this season. First, to my advancing age, skiing perhaps less in terms of hours and vertical, but much more efficiently in the ways I expanded my energy into my skiing, in restraining my temerity and also avoiding potentially bad situations which resulted in almost no fall except for one single one in a terrible mogul, without any negative outcome. I learned to do more with less and return home satisfied. 

On the subject of satisfaction, I loved my new Nordica rear-entry boots, although they weren’t perfect but still made a huge difference in getting in and out of them. A few things should be done to them to tweak them into greater perfection, but that will be for another time. There was also the comfort provided by the new covered parking garage at the Canyons Village that made struggling into mud a thing of the past. 

At 78, I learned more about advancing in age and accepting change, particularly when some younger and stronger skiers happened to pass me and leave me in the dust. I was still happy with myself and saw one door closing as another one opened up. Overall and in spite of some weaker muscles I did all the difficult skiing I used to do in previous years and I was pleased with my 72nd winter season. I also was grateful to have done what so many my age, and even younger, can no longer do. 

I’m aiming at doing much, much better next year, snow and weather helping!

Tip of the iceberg in ski racing earnings?

Last week, the official prize earning for World Cup skiers circulated around the specialty media citing figures about what the top best female and males are making, like up to 741 254 Euros for Marco Odermatt, and 615 167 Euros for Mikaela Shiffrin) in winning World Cup races.

This doesn’t include the Olympic prize money that is left to the discretion of each National Olympic Committee ($37,500 for gold in the US vs. 87,500 euros in France). These figures don’t take into account sponsorship contracts, brand deals and social media as well as other special events or involvement (films, books, ski days, etc.) 

In fact, very few skiers make serious money, only a few (Lindsey Vonn, Mikaela Shiffrin, Marco Odermatt) make several millions per year. For instance, this 2025-2026 season, Shiffrin should make between $6 to $8 million and so is Odermatt, but this is almost entirely from endorsements, not prize money. Shiffrin's high sponsorship income is driven by her record-setting career, including 110 World Cup wins and maintaining a high profile in both American and European markets. 

This said she has expenses other athletes don’t have, like special private coaching, mental specialists, etc. In Europe and particularly in Italy and France, many World Cup skiers are often part of the military or state police or even custom agents, which provides them with a relatively low but steady salary and support for training and competition. 

The typical annual income for a pro skier ranges from $30,000 to $125,000 before taxes, and one has to reach the 1% to earn much more. Let’s say that for about 150 men and as many women ranked in the overall Alpine Ski World Cup, the Paretto rules apply, with 20 % of them earning 80% of the total pot of money available.

Professional skiers earn dramatically less than athletes in most other individual sports. Even top World Cup racers or elite freeskiers typically make only a fraction of what golfers, tennis players, or combat‑sport athletes earn. The money in skiing is limited because prize purses are small, the audience is niche, and most income depends on sponsorships rather than winnings.