When snow comes late

As it finally arrived “en masse” yesterday, January 20, snow has taught us – once more – to be extremely patient and that it doesn't automatically blanket our slopes on November 1.

This reminded me of my first ski season as an instructor at Avoriaz, France during the infamous 1969-1970 winter season.

The season started with very little snow (there was no snow-making at all in these days in the Alps) and as a junior instructor, there was no business for me, so I got a job insulating a mid-mountain restaurant called “Le Petit Pin”, to earn a few Francs.

The snow only came in quantity on January 16 that year, and when it began falling, it never stopped until it accumulated to some 20 feet early May, after wreaking havoc, including a terrible avalanche in Val d'Isère.

Will this be the same season? Who knows? Hope is eternal.

The curse of being a huge resort...

Large ski resorts offer more terrain, more ski runs but also require much more man-made snow on a drought year like this one.

Without counting Deer Valley, its next door neighbor, this is the case of Park City Mountain and its 7,300 acres of terrain that count 348 trails. Today 2,465 acres and 148 trail are open, thanks mostly to the hard work of Park City snow-making crews and snow guns.

This season, we had to wait until the end of January to see most of the runs covered with man-made snow.

What lessons should we learn from this one-in-forty-year snow season? 

• First, that beefing up their infrastructure is key; adding underground pipes, water pumping and air compressing stations, gathering more water sources and perfectly maintaining the entire network. 
• Next, that improving terrain maintenance by removing rocks, bushes, fallen trees and stumps to get a maximum of terrain ready to ski with a minimum snow cover. 
• Finally, that resorts should begin making as much snow as they can as soon as the temperature gets low enough to produce snow, unless there's an abundance of natural snow, and never take a chance on mother nature. 

 I guess that's it. Gee! My prayers have been heard; it's now snowing hard outside!

Dealing with dead Facebook friends...

As time goes on and as we age, we are bound to lose Facebook friends as they pass on.

Besides the sadness and grief that any loss entails, it seems to me that there's a right way or a wrong way to handle that departure as far as Facebook or any other social media is concerned.

I've already lost four Facebook friends and three of them have lingered a reasonable amount of time online, before someone in their family shut the account down. Better yet, Facebook offers the option to memorialize the account (see picture below), but few families do it, it seems.

Short of exercising that option, I think there's something morbidly voyeuristic about having an online presence, long after someone is deceased.

Today, after more than a year following the death of my fourth “friend”, I decided that it was time to “unfriend him”. What else would you have done?

Ski racing and me

Even though I enjoy watching ski races on occasion (that is, Alpine skiing only), I've always had an ambivalent relationship to that activity. I don't think it really represents skiing; it just is an offshoot of the sport and one that is quite artificial at that.

To me, skiing is an activity that begin with a blank canvass and that gets filled in as wanders around, according to the mood of the day, the weather, the sights, the quality and quantity of snow, the paths that are accessible, the infinite variations in terrain and all kinds of surprises.

It's totally unpredictable, changes as it unfolds and no skiing experience is ever quite the same. To me this totally unpredictable adventure is what skiing ought to be.

In contrast, ski racing is an ersatz too far rigid and so removed from that rich experience that skiing ought to be...

Let's wage war on whippers!

On a snow less seasons like this one, every bit of terrain preparation counts and a smooth slope can be opened with a minimum amount of snow. I think it's passed time for our local ski resorts to wage an all-out war on whippers.

You know what I'm talking about, these awful twigs and growing bushes or aspen shoots that are often more intimidating than harmful to skiers and stand on their way, until the time more snow comes or they get chewed up by the edges of our boards.

Okay, I'm not even mentioning the larger elderberry bushes that are to be avoided at all costs...

I feel the resorts should draft a brigade armed with machetes and loppers. In return, they'd reward these trailblazers with free ski pass... Another idea to chew on!

The margin of success

Some people experience occasional success whether it's in sports, business, politics or simply in the pursuit of their daily life.

Sometimes it's sporadic (the spectators say “it's pure luck”, and they're probably right, “it was written” or “well-deserved”, something utterly fatalistic), sometimes their winning way is so consistent, that after the initial applause, their success quickly becomes an irritant.

It just seems unfair, right? This would be a sensible reaction, except that when we look at it closely, these folks all have one huge element in common. It's called a huge margin of that key ingredient that is essential in their continued success.

Don't fool yourself, this reserve has not just showed up instantly overnight; it's been cultivated relentlessly over a long period of time, and maintained at the cost of discipline, constant efforts and higher standards, to the point that it has become ingrained into these successful individuals, that it seems second-nature to observers.

That right, no one can see that hidden life of efforts and sacrifices that has led to these people's success and these same observers are unable to learn the silent lesson these exemplary lives are telling them.

Snowboarders to the rescue?

Imagine the situation: You get badly hurt while skiing on a very difficult terrain, high up in the mountain, a sled has been called to rescue you, and when it arrives, you see two patrollers on snowboards.

How would you feel?

If I were the injured party, I'd be spooked. Not that I don't trust the two rescuers, but rather their ability to control their board on a rough terrain and take me safely down the hill.

You see, this picture conjures what we know and have observed about snowboarding.

This sliding alternative isn't skiing and never will be. It has too many limitations and without getting into its technical shortcomings, nothing will ever beat skiing as long as snow and mountains will co-exist!