Unexcused Absences

Many personal friends already know this; it’s been a very tough month for me and my family. My mother-in-law passed away just before Christmas (read about Ruth here). A few days later, my mother underwent urgent surgery and subsequently experienced serious enough complications for a second, emergency surgery. She continues to improve, but it’s a long, hard (and frankly boring at times) road to recovery. I have been skiing in Colorado only three days since December 15^th.

Exhausted and working on a head cold, I arrive at our condo in Avon at about 11:30 pm Tuesday evening. I certainly feel tempted to sleep in, but I have signed up for a training class offered for Beaver Creek ski instructors who are studying for their PSIA (Professional Ski Instructors of America) Level 2 certification. The training opportunities at The Beav are amazing, and it’s REALLY rude not to show up when you have enrolled in a class. No unexcused absences for me at The Beav!

The alarm wakes me early Wednesday morning. I look out the window and see big, fat flakes gently floating to earth. Snow! I pull together my things, grab my skis and walk 2 minutes to the town bus stop where (fortunately) the bus arrives two minutes late — one minute after I arrive.

Kent McInnis, a Beaver Creek instructor and one of my new-hire trainers, has offered to lend me his daughter’s skis. I’m amazed at how he organizes his day, because no matter what he always finds time to lend a hand to instructors around him – and there are ALWAYS folks around him. I find him in the locker room, and he quickly fits me into the skis before running off to train some other instructors. I am now on a pair of Volkl Mantra skis.

I meet my classmates, all fellow instructors hoping to pass their next PSIA test this season, and we head off to train with Simon Marsh, another trainer at The Beav who doubles as a coach for the Ski Club Vail. I quickly realize that I am, without a doubt, the weakest skier in the bunch. We train on classic PSIA parallel turns (those perfect, round, in-control turns instructors make with their classes) and the snow continues to fall and build up around us. Now, we’re all dedicated instructors who plan on furthering our snow careers by passing a series of tough tests, but we finally we can’t stand it. We have to ride the powder or die.

Fortunately, our instructor Simon sees the wisdom of testing our new skills on tougher terrain (to expose our weaknesses we rationalize) and we head to Grouse Mountain. Now, there are about 6 inches of new powder covering the biggest moguls I’ve ever skied on in my life. And this is how good both the skis and the instruction is; I easily (but not gracefully) make my way down the hill (occasionally doin’ it right). I even “do it right” for a small stretch at the bottom and it feels wonderful. The skis twist around on a dime, my body coils and uncoils like a spring, and I travel down the hill, through the powder. It’s not effortless, but the sensation is wonderful. I’m laughing when I reach the bottom.

Class in Thresher Glade

I’m not the only one having fun. The group decides we need one more run, especially since I need to reinforce what I’ve just learned. At the top, Dave and Russ suggest the Royal Elk Glades, at which point five helmeted heads whip around and look at me. I can tell they are worried about my skill level. I let them know I’d like to go if they think I can ski the run safely. They have a quick conference, talk through the toughest points of the terrain and settle on a route they feel confident I can do. Some quick advice from Elizabeth (ski your own line) and off we go through the glades.

Tree trunks rise through snow that is so deep it covers nearly every bit of brush in the forest. Pines add some muted color to the landscape of white snow and the butterscotch grey and black of the aspen trunks.

Simon turns to me and says, “Ski the white.” That’s when I see it, the Hidden Land of Powder. It lies thick in this glade, around the tree trunks, in small meadows, around the tallest bushes which have not yet been swallowed by its depth. It is a world of white – waiting to be skied. We spread out in the glade, weaving our way between trunks, making fun turns in open patches. I keep hearing fellow skiers shouting and laughing with delight – it’s the only sound that breaks the silence in the forest. I’ve never done anything like it, but with my new skills and the turn-on-a-dime powder skis I’ve borrowed, I’m feel as ease and exhilarated all at once. I’ve travelled the Hidden Land of Powder.

A big thank you to Kent McInnis (for letting be borrow the skis), to Simon Marsh (for teaching such a great class), and finally to Dave (our auditor) and my classmates, Elizabeth, Russ and Dave for their patience and encouragement. Thanks for making the epic day possible!