Unexcused Absences

Old School

Ever seen a person on the slopes wearing ski clothing from another decade and sporting equipment so vintage your wall is jealous? Today, that’s me.

I’m back at Bryce Resort in Basye, Virginia to celebrate Christmas with Kent, his father, my mother, and the whole gang at Bryce. Due to the quick and unexpected nature of my return, I have absolutely no ski gear or ski clothing with me.

I can’t face not skiing, so I start to hunt through the closets and the crates of old clothing at the cabin. In the shaded recesses of my closet, I find an old pair of black stretch pants (meow)! Alas, neither luck nor force produces a pair of downhill boots I can wear for more than thirty seconds.

I notice a pair of telemark boots and skis formerly owned by “Dr. Omatic” innocently sitting in the gear closet along with a copy of “Free-Heel Skiing.” The boots seem too big for me, but not ludicrously large. I put them on and they feel … odd. Must be OK. I look at the book, and the first exercise is “Wedge Turns.” I’ve just finished six days of instructor training at Beaver Creek, most of it devoted to the wedge turn. Definitely OK! I could wedge turn a pair of plastic dinner knives!! I am going to be a telemark skier.

Stretch pants on, puffy down coat zipped up and book in hand, I head down to the hill. Most folks immediately notice something is wrong with my outfit. Their eyes drift from the tips of my skis (over my head), down to my mirrored aviator sunglasses, over my puffy jacket to the stretch pants (meow)! They finally settle on my clearly-too-large boots as they mentally put me in the “charity” category. The fact that Dr. Omatic’s skis are probably from the 1980’s does not help my case.

Folks I know ask if I’m taking up telemark, now that “I’m living on a big mountain.” Seconds later they realize this probably isn’t the case (remember, I’m clutching “Free-Heel Skiing”.) I’m pretty sure I can tell who’s tried telemarking; it’s the folks shaking with silent laughter.

Getting into telemark skis isn’t obvious, and as helpful as “Free-Heel Skiing” may be, there are no illustrations on how to get INTO your brand-new-to-you telemark skis. Kent and I eventually figure it out, and I head to the carpet lift. The lift runs slowly, so I have plenty of time to read the book in anticipation of my first run. Plus, the book only contains about 5 pages on learning to ski along with lots of pictures of trust-afarians skiing the Haute Route, so it’s a fast read.

Studying technique on the carpet lift

Wedging in telemark skis is like … wedging in really really out-of-tune downhill skis (with a broken heel-piece). I quickly progress to linked wedge turns. I have an excellent beginner stance and good, open hand position. This is because I’m a ski instructor with lots of training.

I play around for a few runs, but quickly decide that there is little point in wedging in telemark skis; they are for telemarking! This is where my skills fail me because I am not athletic. Sinking down and sliding my legs apart does not feel natural on skis, nor does it feel like it will do anything to help me stop. But then, suddenly I turn to the right! Woo hoo!

Since telemarking does (sort of) work for me, I decide to progress to the more advanced carpet lift. For my first run, I wedge most of the way down (waste of time, I know) since my telemark skills are lacking. I am making half wedge/half telemark turns by the time Kent comes to visit. The turns are pathetic. We head to Redeye (wow, riding the lift!). I arrive at the top of Redeye (the main green run at Bryce).

Wow! Who put a cliff on this green run? I suddenly see all sorts of terrain, double fall lines, scary bumps, ditches and pitches I failed to notice in the past thirteen years of skiing this slope. I wimp out and wedge or side-slip through the steeper parts. I experience limited success on the shallower pitches. My legs are rarely, if ever, parallel. I stare at my feet (a big no-no since you should actually look where you are going). The skin-tight pants accentuate my odd, bow-legged stance. If my instructors at Beaver Creek could see me now … they would probably shoot me thinking I was a wounded animal. Still, I am sliding down the mountain in control!

To sum it all up, I find telemark skiing awkward and tiring. It’s more fun than sitting in the lodge on a nice day, but less fun than sitting in the lodge in foul weather. It is, though,  far superior to not skiing. Next time, I’ll find Sammy L. and beg him for a lesson. He may not be old enough to drive yet, but I’m convinced he knows more about telemarking than the five pages devoted to it in “Free-Heel Skiing.” Tomorrow, I’ll borrow Karen’s old ski boots and hit the slopes the way I am meant to (on downhill skis), but with a little more respect for beginners.

Location:Bryce Mountain, Virginia