Many people who live in or near a mountain town get picky about when then ski because well, they can. This is called being a ski snob and it's a bit of a badge of honor. It means you can choose not to ski on a day when it's too cold, too icy or you're body is begging you for a break. Most ski snobs out here have what's known as an Epic Pass that makes this snobbery seem oh-so permissible.
Epic Pass: The creme d' la creme season ski pass that gets you unlimited access to all six Vail resorts with no blackout dates. Last year this pass cost $2,200 but this year, thanks to the economy and Vail's desire to lure in more long-term visitors like me, it cost only $579. This is a steal any way you look at it, trust me.
So this weekend I did it up like a local, put on my ski snob outfit and took Saturday off from the mountain. It was -11 when I got up and the thought of another cold day on the mountain with my sore-as-shit feet did not sound fun. Dog Park Guy called me first thing and offered to take me to pick up my newly-modified ski boots (awwwww) and convinced me to schedule a massage for myself that afternoon. We then went to brunch at Westside Cafe where I had a Bloody Mary and Cap'n Crunch French Toast (yes, there is such a thing and it was amazing)!
Dog Park Guy then went to work, so I took Gunther for a hike on a trail near my place. Then I headed down to Vail Village to hit up the Colorado Ski Museum (pretty interesting stuff) and then to do a little shopping. After that I had my fabulous massage and enjoyed some sushi at a nearby restaurant to continue my zenful day— and it was even happy hour on the sushi!
Sunday the weather looked much nicer but my legs were still pretty sore. I opted to head to The Beav again since I could drive and didn't have to hassle with the whole bus ordeal. Beaver Creek still amazes me: they hand out fresh baked cookies to everyone on their way into the resort every morning as well as on your way out. That place has it figured out! I didn't ski long because my feet/legs were still giving me problems. So I toured around the village for a bit before heading home, donning my ski snob grin the whole time.
Sunday night Dog Park Guy took me out to a fabulous dinner at a seafood restaurant called Montouk in Lionshead. The food was amazing and so were the bottles (yes, plural) of wine he ordered. It made for a fun night; almost as fun as our hangovers this morning.
Today I skied for a couple hours at Vail, but again the legs are just done. I talked to quite a few people about the symptoms and now it seems like there is less blame put on the boots and more on just the overuse of my legs. Specifically, I think I have some tendonitis in my lower calves. Time for another day off, Sue the ski snob says to herself.
I met up with Dog Park Guy after skiing for some Chinese food and a movie. I definitely am eating much better now that I met a fun boy. So much for my weight loss the first week and a half—I think that's about gone now!
Tomorrow is Tuesday and I can't believe I have to start thinking about leaving this place. I plan to get on the road on Friday which means I only have Wednesday and Thursday to ski with my friend Jayne when she gets up here. I guess that's a good thing though, I am really starting to miss my "home friends" and goals that focus on something other than skiing!
Monday, December 29, 2008
Friday, December 26, 2008
Dog Park Guy
When I decided to venture out here, I will admit that I struggled with the fact that I wouldn't be with my family or long-time friends on Christmas Eve and Christmas. I never once had missed our traditional gatherings, and since I didn't have many connections out here yet, I had no idea what would be in store for me on the holiday. It was the number one question people asked me when I told them about the trip, "What are you going to do on Christmas day?" Maybe it's because my friends and family knew I was a sucker for all things Christmas including: National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, a meal with more calories than the entire McDonald's menu and yes, singing Silent Night at church on Christmas Eve.
Christmas Eve day I skied until early afternoon and headed back to the house. Colleen invited me to come with her to her family gathering, but I thought that would be a little much considering she and I had yet to even do anything social together. It was a nice offer, but I opted to do my own thing. I had looked into Christmas Eve services at the Vail Chapel and knew that if nothing else, I could go there. Next I headed to the liquor store for some wine. If I had to spend Christmas Eve alone, at least I'd have red wine to keep me company. I went to West Vail Liquor and remembered that a cute guy I had met at the dog park a few days ago had said he worked there. I didn't go looking for him though, I just picked out my two bottles of Zinfandel and headed to the register. Sure enough, guess who's working the register? Dog Park Guy! He remembered me right away and then asked me what my plans were for Christmas Eve. I said I didn't have any yet, so he asked if I'd like to meet up at the dog park when he got out of work. When we met up at the dog park, he mentioned he had just picked up some nice champagne and wondered if I wanted to help him drink it. Let's see, church by myself or champagne with a cute, sweet guy? I'll opt for option #2, thank you!
Dog Park Guy and I spent Christmas Eve together, drinking, laughing and even looking through photo albums. I felt like I had known this guy forever and was pretty happy that by the end of the night we had decided to spend Christmas dinner together too.
Christmas morning I got up and hit the slopes for a few hours. When Dog Park Guy and I talked, he told me that he'd be inviting a few friends over and he'd be cooking a Christmas dinner for us. This was perfect, I'd get to spend more time with him, plus meet a lot of new locals! His menu and preparation was adorable. We had smoked Cornish Game Hens, green been casserole, salad, bread, pies, appetizers and of course, more fabulous champagne! The night was a blast. National Lampoon's Christmas played all night long, we sang drunk Christmas carols and I even learned how to inject Cornish Hens with a butter/BBQ sauce. Who knew injecting birds was a culinary technique?!
Today I woke up and hit the mountain again, but had to call it a short day because my boots were killing my feet. I had huge bruises on both of my inside ankle bones and pretty excruciating pain when I skied. I was pretty cranky. Why the hell did I buy new boots to have them destroy my feet and make it so painful I can't ski?! So I called Dog Park Guy to whine, because every once in a while everyone is permitted to whine. Dog Park Guy was so sweet. He told me to ski down and that he was going to pick me up (no bus!) and we were going to go get my boots some inserts or whatever was needed at the ski shop where his friends work. Ahhh, chivalry is not dead. I felt so relieved that here this sweet guy who I've known less than a week was taking care of me and I was loving it.
They are working on my boots tonight and I think I'm taking tomorrow and Sunday off from skiing to try and let the bruises heal. I have ice on them now and I'm pretty excited to take a break from the frigid temperatures and let my body rest for a bit. Tomorrow Dog Park Guy and I are going to breakfast before he goes to work and then I'll probably hit up yoga and the dog park again. It definitely worked well for me the first time!
Christmas Eve day I skied until early afternoon and headed back to the house. Colleen invited me to come with her to her family gathering, but I thought that would be a little much considering she and I had yet to even do anything social together. It was a nice offer, but I opted to do my own thing. I had looked into Christmas Eve services at the Vail Chapel and knew that if nothing else, I could go there. Next I headed to the liquor store for some wine. If I had to spend Christmas Eve alone, at least I'd have red wine to keep me company. I went to West Vail Liquor and remembered that a cute guy I had met at the dog park a few days ago had said he worked there. I didn't go looking for him though, I just picked out my two bottles of Zinfandel and headed to the register. Sure enough, guess who's working the register? Dog Park Guy! He remembered me right away and then asked me what my plans were for Christmas Eve. I said I didn't have any yet, so he asked if I'd like to meet up at the dog park when he got out of work. When we met up at the dog park, he mentioned he had just picked up some nice champagne and wondered if I wanted to help him drink it. Let's see, church by myself or champagne with a cute, sweet guy? I'll opt for option #2, thank you!
Dog Park Guy and I spent Christmas Eve together, drinking, laughing and even looking through photo albums. I felt like I had known this guy forever and was pretty happy that by the end of the night we had decided to spend Christmas dinner together too.
Christmas morning I got up and hit the slopes for a few hours. When Dog Park Guy and I talked, he told me that he'd be inviting a few friends over and he'd be cooking a Christmas dinner for us. This was perfect, I'd get to spend more time with him, plus meet a lot of new locals! His menu and preparation was adorable. We had smoked Cornish Game Hens, green been casserole, salad, bread, pies, appetizers and of course, more fabulous champagne! The night was a blast. National Lampoon's Christmas played all night long, we sang drunk Christmas carols and I even learned how to inject Cornish Hens with a butter/BBQ sauce. Who knew injecting birds was a culinary technique?!
Today I woke up and hit the mountain again, but had to call it a short day because my boots were killing my feet. I had huge bruises on both of my inside ankle bones and pretty excruciating pain when I skied. I was pretty cranky. Why the hell did I buy new boots to have them destroy my feet and make it so painful I can't ski?! So I called Dog Park Guy to whine, because every once in a while everyone is permitted to whine. Dog Park Guy was so sweet. He told me to ski down and that he was going to pick me up (no bus!) and we were going to go get my boots some inserts or whatever was needed at the ski shop where his friends work. Ahhh, chivalry is not dead. I felt so relieved that here this sweet guy who I've known less than a week was taking care of me and I was loving it.
They are working on my boots tonight and I think I'm taking tomorrow and Sunday off from skiing to try and let the bruises heal. I have ice on them now and I'm pretty excited to take a break from the frigid temperatures and let my body rest for a bit. Tomorrow Dog Park Guy and I are going to breakfast before he goes to work and then I'll probably hit up yoga and the dog park again. It definitely worked well for me the first time!
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Champagne (def):
Skiing in powder is the best possible scenario in a skier's career. It makes all the days of ice, overly groomed trails and shitty, hard-packed moguls worth it. It is in essence, why we ski.
Before today, I had only had one great day of powder skiing in my career and that was last January in St. Anton, Austria. And then there was today: this was hands down my best day thus far in the Vail valley and possibly my skiing career.
I started off my day coming off a nasty food poisoning of some sort that left me couch-bound yesterday. So when I woke up feeling close to normal and looked outside to see 14" of fresh powder, it was time to rally! I caught the first bus down the Lionshead to demo my new potential skis. Now I don't know if it was the skis or the fresh 14" of champagne powder (def. below), but the next five hours of skiing were something to write home about.
Champagne (noun): Light, fluffy snow so good that you want to drink it. It usually comes in depths over a foot and makes people giggle and scream the whole way down the run.
My new skis (yes, I went ahead and bought them) were amazing! The skis I had been skiing were about nine years old and didn't have any of the width to handle powder or crud. And let me tell you, these new Volkl Auras floated like little love bubbles on the champagne! Plus, they looked pretty. And just like ski boots or running shoes, you are not allowed to buy skis on aesthetics alone. But if they happen to ski like a dream and they look like something you'd see on an Aspen fashion runway, then there's no harm. Really.
I met up with my friend Jon (from my trip to Chamonix, France in '07) and we skied some fabulous runs. Skiing in powder is like none other: you float, you just think about turning and you do, and if you fall, you feel like you are on a bed of feathers. It's truly the reason we all ski and it was the best day ever!
After skiing, I met up with Pete, a new guy I had met on the mountain, for some beers and a bite at the Tap Room, a bar in the village. Then Pete and I went to Pepi's bar to meet up with Jon for a few more drinks. There was a live musician who reminded me of Jeremy Sprags from my days at Harper's at Michigan State— he sang Neil Diamond, Jimmy Buffet and James Taylor. It took me back and made me smile. It was strange that this was the 23rd of December and here I was singing, "Sweet Caroline" with strangers and yet it felt so at home.
Before today, I had only had one great day of powder skiing in my career and that was last January in St. Anton, Austria. And then there was today: this was hands down my best day thus far in the Vail valley and possibly my skiing career.
I started off my day coming off a nasty food poisoning of some sort that left me couch-bound yesterday. So when I woke up feeling close to normal and looked outside to see 14" of fresh powder, it was time to rally! I caught the first bus down the Lionshead to demo my new potential skis. Now I don't know if it was the skis or the fresh 14" of champagne powder (def. below), but the next five hours of skiing were something to write home about.
Champagne (noun): Light, fluffy snow so good that you want to drink it. It usually comes in depths over a foot and makes people giggle and scream the whole way down the run.
My new skis (yes, I went ahead and bought them) were amazing! The skis I had been skiing were about nine years old and didn't have any of the width to handle powder or crud. And let me tell you, these new Volkl Auras floated like little love bubbles on the champagne! Plus, they looked pretty. And just like ski boots or running shoes, you are not allowed to buy skis on aesthetics alone. But if they happen to ski like a dream and they look like something you'd see on an Aspen fashion runway, then there's no harm. Really.
I met up with my friend Jon (from my trip to Chamonix, France in '07) and we skied some fabulous runs. Skiing in powder is like none other: you float, you just think about turning and you do, and if you fall, you feel like you are on a bed of feathers. It's truly the reason we all ski and it was the best day ever!
After skiing, I met up with Pete, a new guy I had met on the mountain, for some beers and a bite at the Tap Room, a bar in the village. Then Pete and I went to Pepi's bar to meet up with Jon for a few more drinks. There was a live musician who reminded me of Jeremy Sprags from my days at Harper's at Michigan State— he sang Neil Diamond, Jimmy Buffet and James Taylor. It took me back and made me smile. It was strange that this was the 23rd of December and here I was singing, "Sweet Caroline" with strangers and yet it felt so at home.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Handwarmers and Hail Marys
It's been three frigid days of skiing since I last graced your computer with a blog entry. I figured people need a weekend away from logging on, and I needed a weekend away from thinking of how to narrate my day's happenings. And the other reason for the hiatus is that Karyn and Ed were here keeping me entertained!
Karyn and Ed's flight landed almost on time on Friday morning, which was no small miracle considering the weather conditions in Chicago. I picked them up at the Vail/Eagle airport (who doesn't love the direct O'Hare/Vail flight?!) and headed right to their hotel so they could check in and we could get on the slopes as soon as possible. We were on the mountain by about 1pm and thankfully, the temperature on Friday was a balmy 20 or so degrees! After our afternoon on the mountain, we warmed up with some cold beer, margaritas and nachos at Los Amigos in Vail Village. Part of my excitement of having K&E visit was I knew that I'd be in store for some good meals. I had been eating most meals at home since I had arrived, so the prospect eating my way through the next two days at restaurants was about as exciting as getting fresh powder!
In addition to the fabulous company and food, another great benefit of K&E's stay was that their hotel was right in Vail Village and I could valet my car there and just walk to the directly to the lift! What does this mean for me?! No bus and hellish hike back up the hill for at least two ski days! Plus their hotel had free coffee in the lobby in the mornings! Damn, how quickly I had forgotten how fabulous hotel life can be!
Saturday morning when I started my car, the car's temp gauge read an impressive -6 degrees. And yes, this was before the wind. A day like this means a lot of layers and both glove and boot warmers! My Mom had bought me a jumbo pack before the trip, and on a day like this, they honestly saved you from severe frostbite. Even with the warmers nuzzling up to all ten of my digits, it was still painfully cold at the top of the mountain. Karyn was in a lesson for the day which meant Eddie and I hit the mountain together. We opted not to hit the backside of the mountain, because the wind reports were staggering. We had a great day on the mountain, lost each other a few times due to zero visibility, but always managed to meet up on the next run or so. Thank God for cell phones on the mountain. I really can't even remember what we would do when we lost someone skiing before cell phones and text messaging. Anyway, we stopped to warm up a few times and had a great day. When Karyn bailed out of her lesson, we all met up for one last run and Karyn left me at the bottom of the mountain wondering her whereabouts for about 45 minutes. At one point, I was sure she was carried down on a stretcher and started freaking out. If I'm this overprotective with friends, I'd hate to see myself with kids!
After day two of skiing we checked out some shops, grabbed a beer and then met up for a fabulous late dinner at a place called Sweet Basil—definitely the best food on the mountain, as far as I can tell. I donned my thick chain necklace and Ed from now on will be referring to me as "Junk Yard Dog" after some wrestler in the 80s who wore a big chain. I took this as quite the compliment, especially the barking that came with it.
K&E's flight left bright and early this morning, so we ventured out to the airport in the pitch dark. Their flight got off the ground relatively on time and I was bummed to see my real friends head home. But I eased my sadness with a great bagel and a giant coffee at a little bakery/deli in Avon, near Beaver Creek. And honestly folks, it was probably the best bagel I have ever had. Sometimes it's the little things...
Once home, Colleen (my roommie out here) and I decided to hit the mountain for a few hours. It was a beautiful day once we got out, although it was still bitter cold. The sun was out for the morning though, so it seemed warmer and we headed back to Blue Sky Basin again.
Now, Colleen is a ripper of a skier:
Ripper (noun): This has nothing to do with flatulence; it's a complimentary term for someone who can seriously rip on the mountain. Someone who skis 100+ days a year and has the skills to show for it.
So Colleen basically handed my ass to me on a platinum platter. She took me down some hairy double black diamonds, and little ole Midwest here was huffing and puffing to keep up. If I was Catholic, I would have sent up a few hundred Hail Marys for stronger quads, new skis, asthma-free lungs and just plain better skiing ability. It's great to challenge yourself though. I'll never get better by cruising down blue groomed trails, no matter how pretty I look doing it. I broke off from Colleen in the afternoon, opting for walking over crawling to the mountain tomorrow. I then went to scope out some new skis (more on that tomorrow) and grab a beer at my favorite bar, Bart and Yeti's. I'd say this weekend was not a bad way to end my first full week in Vail at all!
Karyn and Ed's flight landed almost on time on Friday morning, which was no small miracle considering the weather conditions in Chicago. I picked them up at the Vail/Eagle airport (who doesn't love the direct O'Hare/Vail flight?!) and headed right to their hotel so they could check in and we could get on the slopes as soon as possible. We were on the mountain by about 1pm and thankfully, the temperature on Friday was a balmy 20 or so degrees! After our afternoon on the mountain, we warmed up with some cold beer, margaritas and nachos at Los Amigos in Vail Village. Part of my excitement of having K&E visit was I knew that I'd be in store for some good meals. I had been eating most meals at home since I had arrived, so the prospect eating my way through the next two days at restaurants was about as exciting as getting fresh powder!
In addition to the fabulous company and food, another great benefit of K&E's stay was that their hotel was right in Vail Village and I could valet my car there and just walk to the directly to the lift! What does this mean for me?! No bus and hellish hike back up the hill for at least two ski days! Plus their hotel had free coffee in the lobby in the mornings! Damn, how quickly I had forgotten how fabulous hotel life can be!
Saturday morning when I started my car, the car's temp gauge read an impressive -6 degrees. And yes, this was before the wind. A day like this means a lot of layers and both glove and boot warmers! My Mom had bought me a jumbo pack before the trip, and on a day like this, they honestly saved you from severe frostbite. Even with the warmers nuzzling up to all ten of my digits, it was still painfully cold at the top of the mountain. Karyn was in a lesson for the day which meant Eddie and I hit the mountain together. We opted not to hit the backside of the mountain, because the wind reports were staggering. We had a great day on the mountain, lost each other a few times due to zero visibility, but always managed to meet up on the next run or so. Thank God for cell phones on the mountain. I really can't even remember what we would do when we lost someone skiing before cell phones and text messaging. Anyway, we stopped to warm up a few times and had a great day. When Karyn bailed out of her lesson, we all met up for one last run and Karyn left me at the bottom of the mountain wondering her whereabouts for about 45 minutes. At one point, I was sure she was carried down on a stretcher and started freaking out. If I'm this overprotective with friends, I'd hate to see myself with kids!
After day two of skiing we checked out some shops, grabbed a beer and then met up for a fabulous late dinner at a place called Sweet Basil—definitely the best food on the mountain, as far as I can tell. I donned my thick chain necklace and Ed from now on will be referring to me as "Junk Yard Dog" after some wrestler in the 80s who wore a big chain. I took this as quite the compliment, especially the barking that came with it.
K&E's flight left bright and early this morning, so we ventured out to the airport in the pitch dark. Their flight got off the ground relatively on time and I was bummed to see my real friends head home. But I eased my sadness with a great bagel and a giant coffee at a little bakery/deli in Avon, near Beaver Creek. And honestly folks, it was probably the best bagel I have ever had. Sometimes it's the little things...
Once home, Colleen (my roommie out here) and I decided to hit the mountain for a few hours. It was a beautiful day once we got out, although it was still bitter cold. The sun was out for the morning though, so it seemed warmer and we headed back to Blue Sky Basin again.
Now, Colleen is a ripper of a skier:
Ripper (noun): This has nothing to do with flatulence; it's a complimentary term for someone who can seriously rip on the mountain. Someone who skis 100+ days a year and has the skills to show for it.
So Colleen basically handed my ass to me on a platinum platter. She took me down some hairy double black diamonds, and little ole Midwest here was huffing and puffing to keep up. If I was Catholic, I would have sent up a few hundred Hail Marys for stronger quads, new skis, asthma-free lungs and just plain better skiing ability. It's great to challenge yourself though. I'll never get better by cruising down blue groomed trails, no matter how pretty I look doing it. I broke off from Colleen in the afternoon, opting for walking over crawling to the mountain tomorrow. I then went to scope out some new skis (more on that tomorrow) and grab a beer at my favorite bar, Bart and Yeti's. I'd say this weekend was not a bad way to end my first full week in Vail at all!
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Blizzard at The Beav
Beaver Creek is a sister resort to Vail but in sibling terms it's definitely the classier, more affluent sister. This is the place where you see just as many fur coats as you do ski parkas and frequently many of those staying at the resort don't even pretend to ski. But, since getting to Vail includes me either paying $25 to park or taking the bus (and the corresponding hike that goes with it), today I opted to check out Beaver Creek.
It's a quick drive to "The Beav" (what locals call it) and I got to the free shuttle parking lot by 8:15 or so. The lifts didn't open until 8:30, so I perused the facilities and discovered that not only do they have self flushing toilets at The Beav, they also have heated toilet seats! The bathrooms were honestly stunning: floor-to-ceiling marble, free tampons and hand lotion and leather couches in the lounge area. Beaver Creek's tagline is, "Not exactly roughing it" and they mean it! Mark, for your benefit, Beaver Creek is the sister resort to Lech/Zurs in Austria (if that gives you any clue)!
After the lifts opened, I enjoyed the resort almost to myself. Apparently rich people don't get up early to ski. I mixed up my runs and was happy to have a day to ski solo. It's great because you can ski any run you want, stop whenever and focus on your form a lot more than if you were skiing with someone else. I alternated a black run with a blue run, but the black runs at Beaver Creek really weren't as challenging as they would've been at Vail. Again, rich people like to think they are better skiers than they actually are.
It was snowing all day, but the powder was piling up and made for some great conditions. I skied through lunch again and headed up to an area of the mountain called the Rose Bowl, which is at the top of the resort, about as far away from the base as you can get. About half way down my first run in that area, the steady snow flurries suddenly turned into a blizzard in the matter of 30 seconds. I could see the snow cloud work it's way across the mountain and in moments, it was blowing horribly and I could barely see my hand in front of my face. But of course, when I got to the bottom of this run, I had to take the lift back up because I needed to take another trail to get to the bottom.
Before getting on the chair lift, I asked the lift op (definition below) what was the quickest route to the bottom. He told me the direction and to hurry down, because he just got word they were closing the mountain for the rest of the day. I had seriously never seen conditions this crazy in my life.
Lift Op (aka Liftee): The cute guy or girl who runs the chair lift. They make minimum wage, but get a free season pass. They are usually from some other country. It makes resorts like Vail and Beaver Creek appear uber global and hip.
The lift ride up was like something out of the "Everest" documentary. The chairs were blowing sideways and I couldn't feel my face. But I had no choice, I had to go up to get back down. Once at the top I skied as quickly as I could to get out of the blizzard conditions. The wind was literally pushing against me so forcefully that I could barely traverse the mountain. I made sure to keep an eye on someone in front of me so as not to get off the trail. Everyone on the mountain at this time was heading down, so there was no worry that the person I was following would be heading anywhere else.
I made it down and headed directly to the bus. I got back to my car and stopped off at Loaded Joe's (my new fave coffee shop) for some caffeine before the drive back to West Vail. I ran into Colleen and her new beau, it's amazing how small it can feel after only a few days. Then I sat in some wicked traffic on I70 since it was snowing and there was a bad pile up. It took me about an hour to get back when it should have taken me about 15 minutes. Good times!
But I'm home safe and sound now. It's pretty ugly out there tonight, so I think I'm staying in and taking it easy. Karyn and Ed are supposed to fly in tomorrow to ski for the weekend and I'm super excited to see them. But the weather in Chicago and here may have an other idea. I just hope their flight gets off safely and they don't have to cancel their trip. Cross your fingers that the weather isn't as bad as they predict it to be in Chicago tomorrow morning! I'm ready for some ski buddies!
It's a quick drive to "The Beav" (what locals call it) and I got to the free shuttle parking lot by 8:15 or so. The lifts didn't open until 8:30, so I perused the facilities and discovered that not only do they have self flushing toilets at The Beav, they also have heated toilet seats! The bathrooms were honestly stunning: floor-to-ceiling marble, free tampons and hand lotion and leather couches in the lounge area. Beaver Creek's tagline is, "Not exactly roughing it" and they mean it! Mark, for your benefit, Beaver Creek is the sister resort to Lech/Zurs in Austria (if that gives you any clue)!
After the lifts opened, I enjoyed the resort almost to myself. Apparently rich people don't get up early to ski. I mixed up my runs and was happy to have a day to ski solo. It's great because you can ski any run you want, stop whenever and focus on your form a lot more than if you were skiing with someone else. I alternated a black run with a blue run, but the black runs at Beaver Creek really weren't as challenging as they would've been at Vail. Again, rich people like to think they are better skiers than they actually are.
It was snowing all day, but the powder was piling up and made for some great conditions. I skied through lunch again and headed up to an area of the mountain called the Rose Bowl, which is at the top of the resort, about as far away from the base as you can get. About half way down my first run in that area, the steady snow flurries suddenly turned into a blizzard in the matter of 30 seconds. I could see the snow cloud work it's way across the mountain and in moments, it was blowing horribly and I could barely see my hand in front of my face. But of course, when I got to the bottom of this run, I had to take the lift back up because I needed to take another trail to get to the bottom.
Before getting on the chair lift, I asked the lift op (definition below) what was the quickest route to the bottom. He told me the direction and to hurry down, because he just got word they were closing the mountain for the rest of the day. I had seriously never seen conditions this crazy in my life.
Lift Op (aka Liftee): The cute guy or girl who runs the chair lift. They make minimum wage, but get a free season pass. They are usually from some other country. It makes resorts like Vail and Beaver Creek appear uber global and hip.
The lift ride up was like something out of the "Everest" documentary. The chairs were blowing sideways and I couldn't feel my face. But I had no choice, I had to go up to get back down. Once at the top I skied as quickly as I could to get out of the blizzard conditions. The wind was literally pushing against me so forcefully that I could barely traverse the mountain. I made sure to keep an eye on someone in front of me so as not to get off the trail. Everyone on the mountain at this time was heading down, so there was no worry that the person I was following would be heading anywhere else.
I made it down and headed directly to the bus. I got back to my car and stopped off at Loaded Joe's (my new fave coffee shop) for some caffeine before the drive back to West Vail. I ran into Colleen and her new beau, it's amazing how small it can feel after only a few days. Then I sat in some wicked traffic on I70 since it was snowing and there was a bad pile up. It took me about an hour to get back when it should have taken me about 15 minutes. Good times!
But I'm home safe and sound now. It's pretty ugly out there tonight, so I think I'm staying in and taking it easy. Karyn and Ed are supposed to fly in tomorrow to ski for the weekend and I'm super excited to see them. But the weather in Chicago and here may have an other idea. I just hope their flight gets off safely and they don't have to cancel their trip. Cross your fingers that the weather isn't as bad as they predict it to be in Chicago tomorrow morning! I'm ready for some ski buddies!
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Zen and the Art of Beverage Maintenance
Three beers go to your head quickly when you're living at an elevation of 8,200 and some odd feet. It's true, when you're at a higher altitude, you don't get as much oxygen in your blood stream, therefore beers go to your head about twice as fast. And that's why it's 8:30 at night and instead of rallying and heading back to Vail Village for more beers with some locals I just met, I have opted to relax and call it a night.
But I had a busy day, so I will use that as an excuse. When I woke up this morning my calves were still causing me to walk much like a lumbering Big Bird, so I took the day off skiing and headed to yoga instead. We got about a foot of snow overnight again, so the roads were pretty horrible. Thank God for the all-wheel-drive Audi! My yoga class was in Avon about 8 miles down I70, near Beaver Creek resort and since there was only one other person in my class, I got a lot of personal attention and was able to connect with my inner zen and my muscles.
After yoga, I discovered a great cafe called Loaded Joe's. I grabbed a coffee, caught up on email, read the local Vail Daily newspaper and prolonged my stay long enough to order up lunch. Following my zenful morning in Avon, I ran back to get the dog for a trip to the dog park just down the street. And let me tell you, dog parks are significantly different in these parts because there are no fences. Damn, these people are laid back! And if you have a dog that minds as well as Gunther, this is a bit alarming. But I armed myself with treats in my pocket, practiced a few recall commands and felt confident enough as we headed into a snowy meadow with 2 feet of fresh powder and a handful of local dogs romping. I met some great new people, all of whom had quit their "real" jobs and moved out here to work at liquor stores, restaurants or in other esteemed professions. I was inspired.
After our dog park adventure, Gunther and I continued our date together and drove into Vail, where parking is free after 3pm. We walked around town and then ventured into the one dog-friendly bar in the village, called Bart and Yeti's. Even though walking in with Gunther is like walking in with a hot wingman, it's still a bit intimidating to walk in to a crowded bar and to try to find room at the bar for your dog and yourself. But it was a cool bar, loaded with locals and walls covered with cheeky bumper stickers. It was small, eclectic and again, a place where everyone was genuinely open to saying hello. By the end of the night, I ended up meeting another great group of locals who I may ski with tomorrow and somehow didn't end up paying for even one of my beers. Now I don't know if people out here genuinely are more friendly than in Chicago or if I am just more open to it, but honestly I have met the most amazing, friendly people in the past three days. If this place continues to be this welcoming, I better be careful because I won't be able to remember why living in Chicago is such a fab choice!
But I had a busy day, so I will use that as an excuse. When I woke up this morning my calves were still causing me to walk much like a lumbering Big Bird, so I took the day off skiing and headed to yoga instead. We got about a foot of snow overnight again, so the roads were pretty horrible. Thank God for the all-wheel-drive Audi! My yoga class was in Avon about 8 miles down I70, near Beaver Creek resort and since there was only one other person in my class, I got a lot of personal attention and was able to connect with my inner zen and my muscles.
After yoga, I discovered a great cafe called Loaded Joe's. I grabbed a coffee, caught up on email, read the local Vail Daily newspaper and prolonged my stay long enough to order up lunch. Following my zenful morning in Avon, I ran back to get the dog for a trip to the dog park just down the street. And let me tell you, dog parks are significantly different in these parts because there are no fences. Damn, these people are laid back! And if you have a dog that minds as well as Gunther, this is a bit alarming. But I armed myself with treats in my pocket, practiced a few recall commands and felt confident enough as we headed into a snowy meadow with 2 feet of fresh powder and a handful of local dogs romping. I met some great new people, all of whom had quit their "real" jobs and moved out here to work at liquor stores, restaurants or in other esteemed professions. I was inspired.
After our dog park adventure, Gunther and I continued our date together and drove into Vail, where parking is free after 3pm. We walked around town and then ventured into the one dog-friendly bar in the village, called Bart and Yeti's. Even though walking in with Gunther is like walking in with a hot wingman, it's still a bit intimidating to walk in to a crowded bar and to try to find room at the bar for your dog and yourself. But it was a cool bar, loaded with locals and walls covered with cheeky bumper stickers. It was small, eclectic and again, a place where everyone was genuinely open to saying hello. By the end of the night, I ended up meeting another great group of locals who I may ski with tomorrow and somehow didn't end up paying for even one of my beers. Now I don't know if people out here genuinely are more friendly than in Chicago or if I am just more open to it, but honestly I have met the most amazing, friendly people in the past three days. If this place continues to be this welcoming, I better be careful because I won't be able to remember why living in Chicago is such a fab choice!
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
A Date with the Dentist
Third dates are always a make it or break it kind of thing. My theory is most "relationships" either end after three dates, three months, or three years. So I figured why not have a third date with a guy I am dating in Chicago out here in Vail?! In honor of this guy's pride and anonymity in case we continue dating, I will impart a Sex and the City guise and hereby refer to him as, Mr. Dentist.
Mr. Dentist had plans to be out in Summit County long before I told him I would be out here, so there's no strange stalker behavior on either of our parts that lead to this third date. On our second date back in Chicago, he asked if I'd like to meet up with him for a day of skiing after we realized that we'd both be out here at the same time. Considering I have a whole lot of nothing planned for my three weeks out here, meeting up to ski with a cute boy I'm dating sounded just what the doctor, er dentist, ordered. Ahh, bad puns never get old!
Anyway, Mr. Dentist and I met up at Mid Vail this morning, and I'll admit to some trepidation on meeting a guy for a third date to ski. For one, I had no idea how good of a skier Mr. Dentist was. Most skiers from the Midwest say they are good skiers, but then in person I've been underwhelmed at best. And on the other hand, I didn't want him to be ridiculously good where I felt intimidated by his skills (read into this statement all you'd like). Next, it was about 5 degrees and snowing like mad which meant lots of layers of clothing, serious snot runnage and a nose as bright as Rudolph. In other words, prime conditions for a flattering third impression. Oh, and to top that off, you get to look forward to meeting his family later in the day if the date goes well.
But we have good news on all fronts: Mr. Dentist is a great skier for Midwest standards, but not too good for me. We skied a full day of runs both in the back bowls as well as the front side of the mountain. The snow didn't let up all day and left us both with some nasty wind burn when we met up with his Mom, Dad and brother. And might I add, that his 60+ year old parents were damn good skiers for any age standards. Good genes are definitely part of the equation here!
Around 4pm after last chair, we went to a bar in Lionshead (one of two base villages in Vail) and I inadvertently ordered a giant 24-oz can of PBR. I'm quite sure his family thought I was a lush because Mommma Dentist, Daddy Dentist and Big Brother Dentist all ordered soda. But I drank it down anyway and think I managed to make a good impression on the whole Dentist family in spite of my PBR oil can.
The only bad news is that at the end of day two my calves are literally so sore that I can't walk without looking like a cripple. It's more like hobbling and I'm not sure if skiing is in my future tomorrow even though we got a good twelve or so new inches of snow today. Good news is, more snow is on the way so it might be time for a yoga/spa day after all!
Mr. Dentist had plans to be out in Summit County long before I told him I would be out here, so there's no strange stalker behavior on either of our parts that lead to this third date. On our second date back in Chicago, he asked if I'd like to meet up with him for a day of skiing after we realized that we'd both be out here at the same time. Considering I have a whole lot of nothing planned for my three weeks out here, meeting up to ski with a cute boy I'm dating sounded just what the doctor, er dentist, ordered. Ahh, bad puns never get old!
Anyway, Mr. Dentist and I met up at Mid Vail this morning, and I'll admit to some trepidation on meeting a guy for a third date to ski. For one, I had no idea how good of a skier Mr. Dentist was. Most skiers from the Midwest say they are good skiers, but then in person I've been underwhelmed at best. And on the other hand, I didn't want him to be ridiculously good where I felt intimidated by his skills (read into this statement all you'd like). Next, it was about 5 degrees and snowing like mad which meant lots of layers of clothing, serious snot runnage and a nose as bright as Rudolph. In other words, prime conditions for a flattering third impression. Oh, and to top that off, you get to look forward to meeting his family later in the day if the date goes well.
But we have good news on all fronts: Mr. Dentist is a great skier for Midwest standards, but not too good for me. We skied a full day of runs both in the back bowls as well as the front side of the mountain. The snow didn't let up all day and left us both with some nasty wind burn when we met up with his Mom, Dad and brother. And might I add, that his 60+ year old parents were damn good skiers for any age standards. Good genes are definitely part of the equation here!
Around 4pm after last chair, we went to a bar in Lionshead (one of two base villages in Vail) and I inadvertently ordered a giant 24-oz can of PBR. I'm quite sure his family thought I was a lush because Mommma Dentist, Daddy Dentist and Big Brother Dentist all ordered soda. But I drank it down anyway and think I managed to make a good impression on the whole Dentist family in spite of my PBR oil can.
The only bad news is that at the end of day two my calves are literally so sore that I can't walk without looking like a cripple. It's more like hobbling and I'm not sure if skiing is in my future tomorrow even though we got a good twelve or so new inches of snow today. Good news is, more snow is on the way so it might be time for a yoga/spa day after all!
Monday, December 15, 2008
Lexicon Lesson #3 & #4
Today was day one on the slopes and I have a sore shoulder and a few good stories to prove it. I got up early to aim for first tracks:
First tracks: The envy of every skier's eye; when you get first access to new snow and get to leave your "tracks" behind you as you schuss down the mountain.
Now the big snow here fell on Saturday night and Sunday, so this was not fresh powder, but since Vail had not opened Blue Sky Basin (one of the best places for powder) on Sunday due to avalanches, that meant today the snow would be pretty good in Blue Sky. Plus it was my first day. And I was never one to be late for the first day of anything. So I was up at 6:30 and treking to the bus by 7:45. Now, when Colleen was telling me about her place, she mentioned her place was "right on the bus route." This statement was a lie. It is about a half mile from the stop, which wouldn't be bad if their was not a ridiculously steep decline on the way there and incline on the way back, at the end of the day when your legs are fried. Adding to the complexity and joy of this walk, is that it's slippery as hell on the way down, you are walking in ski boots and carrying your skis and poles. Oh yeah, at it's -8 at this time of day.
The bus came on time though and I made it to the mountain by 8:30. The lift straight out of Vail Village was closed and that meant I got to hike another half mile uphill carrying my skis to another lift. When I got there, two nice guys in line for the lift asked me to join them on the way up. This is common practice, but I must have had my charm working for me because at the end of the lift, they invited me to ski with them for the day. They were nice, cute and of course, two single guys from Denver, I mean Menver. The rumor is that Denver has about six men for every woman. Remind me why I don't live there again, please?
Anyway, Chad and Ben and I headed over for a day of pretty hard skiing in Blue Sky Basin. Since it wasn't fresh powder and it was so blasted cold out, this made the snow extremely grabby:
Grabby: Snow that is so cold that it doesn't glide easily under your skis. And it unexpectedly can grab your skis and throw your body forward and make you look like a cartoon character who was hit from behind by a semi truck.
And this folks, is what happened to me and resulted in one impressive fall that reaffirmed my faith in my new helmet. I was cruising along at a pretty good clip, following cute Ben and that nasty, mean, grabby snow stopped my skis dead in their tracks. And we all know how physics works, the momentum of your body wants to keep going at that same zippy speed. Thus, you are literally thrown out of your skis and ususally land on your head, which I did. Thankfully the snow was pretty soft and my helmet was new. I then hit with my right shoulder. For a minute I didn't move. Thoughts raced through my head and I said to myself, "Holy shit, what if you came all the way out here to ski for three weeks and you break your shoulder on the first day?!" But then I wiggled it and realized I was fine. Cute Ben came back to help me get back in my skis (which were about 20 feet behind me), I shook it off and we kept on skiing for another 3 hours or so in some wicked fun, knee-deep powder.
At about 3pm, my legs were absolutely fried. Apparently I didn't do nearly enough squats for this kind of heavy snow skiing. So I said buh-bye to my new friends and we said we'd meet up again if they come up to Vail again in the next few weeks. I then headed to the Tap Room in Vail Village for a beer at the bar. I have never been one who is good at going to the bar by myself. Guys do it all the time, but for some reason it's hard for a lot of us women. But I guess that's why I'm here: to do things that aren't in the norm, to become a better a skiier and a bit of a more interesting person too. So I grabbed a beer, chatted it up with the bartender and got an invitation to come back for all-you-can eat wings night at 5pm. He must have known I was from the Midwest!
First tracks: The envy of every skier's eye; when you get first access to new snow and get to leave your "tracks" behind you as you schuss down the mountain.
Now the big snow here fell on Saturday night and Sunday, so this was not fresh powder, but since Vail had not opened Blue Sky Basin (one of the best places for powder) on Sunday due to avalanches, that meant today the snow would be pretty good in Blue Sky. Plus it was my first day. And I was never one to be late for the first day of anything. So I was up at 6:30 and treking to the bus by 7:45. Now, when Colleen was telling me about her place, she mentioned her place was "right on the bus route." This statement was a lie. It is about a half mile from the stop, which wouldn't be bad if their was not a ridiculously steep decline on the way there and incline on the way back, at the end of the day when your legs are fried. Adding to the complexity and joy of this walk, is that it's slippery as hell on the way down, you are walking in ski boots and carrying your skis and poles. Oh yeah, at it's -8 at this time of day.
The bus came on time though and I made it to the mountain by 8:30. The lift straight out of Vail Village was closed and that meant I got to hike another half mile uphill carrying my skis to another lift. When I got there, two nice guys in line for the lift asked me to join them on the way up. This is common practice, but I must have had my charm working for me because at the end of the lift, they invited me to ski with them for the day. They were nice, cute and of course, two single guys from Denver, I mean Menver. The rumor is that Denver has about six men for every woman. Remind me why I don't live there again, please?
Anyway, Chad and Ben and I headed over for a day of pretty hard skiing in Blue Sky Basin. Since it wasn't fresh powder and it was so blasted cold out, this made the snow extremely grabby:
Grabby: Snow that is so cold that it doesn't glide easily under your skis. And it unexpectedly can grab your skis and throw your body forward and make you look like a cartoon character who was hit from behind by a semi truck.
And this folks, is what happened to me and resulted in one impressive fall that reaffirmed my faith in my new helmet. I was cruising along at a pretty good clip, following cute Ben and that nasty, mean, grabby snow stopped my skis dead in their tracks. And we all know how physics works, the momentum of your body wants to keep going at that same zippy speed. Thus, you are literally thrown out of your skis and ususally land on your head, which I did. Thankfully the snow was pretty soft and my helmet was new. I then hit with my right shoulder. For a minute I didn't move. Thoughts raced through my head and I said to myself, "Holy shit, what if you came all the way out here to ski for three weeks and you break your shoulder on the first day?!" But then I wiggled it and realized I was fine. Cute Ben came back to help me get back in my skis (which were about 20 feet behind me), I shook it off and we kept on skiing for another 3 hours or so in some wicked fun, knee-deep powder.
At about 3pm, my legs were absolutely fried. Apparently I didn't do nearly enough squats for this kind of heavy snow skiing. So I said buh-bye to my new friends and we said we'd meet up again if they come up to Vail again in the next few weeks. I then headed to the Tap Room in Vail Village for a beer at the bar. I have never been one who is good at going to the bar by myself. Guys do it all the time, but for some reason it's hard for a lot of us women. But I guess that's why I'm here: to do things that aren't in the norm, to become a better a skiier and a bit of a more interesting person too. So I grabbed a beer, chatted it up with the bartender and got an invitation to come back for all-you-can eat wings night at 5pm. He must have known I was from the Midwest!
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Climate Change
When I rested my weary head on my slightly scratchy Motel 6 pillow last night, it was about 52 degrees. So warm that I didn't even bother bringing a coat in the hotel with me. And then I woke up. Apparently Chicago isn't the only place where weather can change on a dime, because when it was time to let the dog do his business outside, it was -2 out, and that was before the windchill which must have been impressive because it was 40mph gusts. Great, and the forecast said snow was on the way.
I got ready quickly this a.m. and was back on 1-80 by 7:15 in order to avoid as much of the snow as possible and get as far as I could if I needed to stay the night somewhere else. It was pitch dark and blowing like crazy. These cornfields are crazy! And you should've seen these poor freezing cows just standing out there! I mean it was cold and they were just standing there with snow piling up on their backs! Anyway, about an hour in to my trip, the snow really started coming down along with the blowing. The driving conditions got so bad that I had to turn off today's book on tape (Kafka on the Shore) because concentrating on anything but the road in front of me was too much for me. The snow squalled and blew; pumping gas in it was a treat. It then slightly let up until I crossed into Colorado. And the snow really started to fly. No plows had been out yet, so it was just a one-lane road and white knuckles the whole way. By the time I got to Denver, there was about 8 unplowed inches on the road, but it finally stopped snowing.
It was time for a break. Gunther and I stopped to meet Jayne (my resident Colorado friend) and tour her condo in Denver. It was a cute place, except the toliet was clogged from some male houseguest the night before. And I hadn't pee'ed in about 6 hours and 3 coffees ago. So I attempted to plunge her toilet (good friend, eh?) but it didn't work. So I just pee'ed on top of the mess and shut the lid. Swell. Let's go to lunch, Jayne.
Jayne brought me to a cute brunch place nearby called Snooze or something like that. I left Gunther in the car since I was afraid he might chew up Jayne's condo. It was good comfort, Colorado food and of course, I had more coffee to amp me up for the rest of my drive up I-70 to Vail. In good weather, the drive should take an hour and a half. But this was not good weather. Reports said Vail and most of Summit County got a foot of powder in the last 12 hours, which is great for skiing, but bad for driving. But I took it slow though and made it Vail in a little over two hours.
I got a little lost finding Colleen's (and now my) condo because none of the roads are marked, but thankfully Colleen talked me in on the cell. Thank god there's reception up here! For those of you who don't know, I had never met Colleen. She is a friend of Jayne's who opened up her condo to me and the hound for the time. She's getting paid well, but still I had to wonder what was wrong with this girl. Good news: so far nothing! She seems laid back and cool although she's a ridiculous health food/organic/vitamin/tea freak. But I guess that's good. Maybe my big, cheese-loving thighs could learn something from her.
Colleen has a dog too, named Oso. Oso gave a few good growls and snaps at Gunther, so the two are being separated for now. I think that'll pass though. Colleen helped me haul in all my stuff, showed me the bus map and schedule and made me some hot tea (I got to choose between about 30 different kinds)! My room is nice enough, pretty plain which is good since the crate Gunther was supposed to stay in (Colleen had one) isn't big enough for him to turn around in. So I think I'm just going to lock him in the bedroom when I leave and hope for the best. If he opts to chew anything, it will only be my things anyway. At least I'd like to think he won't chew the dresser, the floor lamp or the bed, which is about all that's in here.
So that is the summary of day two's drive. It took a little longer than expected, but I'm here safe and sound in Vail and relaxing on a pretty comfy bed. I'm definitely going to bed early tonight to prepare for some first tracks at Vail's Blue Sky Basin. It was closed today for avalanch dynamiting, which means all that fresh powder will be waiting for me tomorrow morning!
I got ready quickly this a.m. and was back on 1-80 by 7:15 in order to avoid as much of the snow as possible and get as far as I could if I needed to stay the night somewhere else. It was pitch dark and blowing like crazy. These cornfields are crazy! And you should've seen these poor freezing cows just standing out there! I mean it was cold and they were just standing there with snow piling up on their backs! Anyway, about an hour in to my trip, the snow really started coming down along with the blowing. The driving conditions got so bad that I had to turn off today's book on tape (Kafka on the Shore) because concentrating on anything but the road in front of me was too much for me. The snow squalled and blew; pumping gas in it was a treat. It then slightly let up until I crossed into Colorado. And the snow really started to fly. No plows had been out yet, so it was just a one-lane road and white knuckles the whole way. By the time I got to Denver, there was about 8 unplowed inches on the road, but it finally stopped snowing.
It was time for a break. Gunther and I stopped to meet Jayne (my resident Colorado friend) and tour her condo in Denver. It was a cute place, except the toliet was clogged from some male houseguest the night before. And I hadn't pee'ed in about 6 hours and 3 coffees ago. So I attempted to plunge her toilet (good friend, eh?) but it didn't work. So I just pee'ed on top of the mess and shut the lid. Swell. Let's go to lunch, Jayne.
Jayne brought me to a cute brunch place nearby called Snooze or something like that. I left Gunther in the car since I was afraid he might chew up Jayne's condo. It was good comfort, Colorado food and of course, I had more coffee to amp me up for the rest of my drive up I-70 to Vail. In good weather, the drive should take an hour and a half. But this was not good weather. Reports said Vail and most of Summit County got a foot of powder in the last 12 hours, which is great for skiing, but bad for driving. But I took it slow though and made it Vail in a little over two hours.
I got a little lost finding Colleen's (and now my) condo because none of the roads are marked, but thankfully Colleen talked me in on the cell. Thank god there's reception up here! For those of you who don't know, I had never met Colleen. She is a friend of Jayne's who opened up her condo to me and the hound for the time. She's getting paid well, but still I had to wonder what was wrong with this girl. Good news: so far nothing! She seems laid back and cool although she's a ridiculous health food/organic/vitamin/tea freak. But I guess that's good. Maybe my big, cheese-loving thighs could learn something from her.
Colleen has a dog too, named Oso. Oso gave a few good growls and snaps at Gunther, so the two are being separated for now. I think that'll pass though. Colleen helped me haul in all my stuff, showed me the bus map and schedule and made me some hot tea (I got to choose between about 30 different kinds)! My room is nice enough, pretty plain which is good since the crate Gunther was supposed to stay in (Colleen had one) isn't big enough for him to turn around in. So I think I'm just going to lock him in the bedroom when I leave and hope for the best. If he opts to chew anything, it will only be my things anyway. At least I'd like to think he won't chew the dresser, the floor lamp or the bed, which is about all that's in here.
So that is the summary of day two's drive. It took a little longer than expected, but I'm here safe and sound in Vail and relaxing on a pretty comfy bed. I'm definitely going to bed early tonight to prepare for some first tracks at Vail's Blue Sky Basin. It was closed today for avalanch dynamiting, which means all that fresh powder will be waiting for me tomorrow morning!
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Vonnegut vs. Betteridge
It's about 50 degrees in Kearney, Nebraska right now, but the good news is my trusty Weather Channel tells me that it's snowing like mad in the Rockies. So, as long as the snow doesn't pile up too much to close the pass, I will be in Vail (hopefully with plentiful feet of new powder) by tomorrow afternoon.
I drove about 650 miles today which equaled just about 10 arduous hours on on the road. It didn't get to be tiresome until about the last hour or two though namely, because I spent a good six-hour chunk of my drive listening to an audiobook which Amie and Wally so lovingly loaded up on an iPod for me. I'll admit, this was my first full audiobook experience. I was skeptical of my own ADD tendencies in the car, but I'm proud to say I prevailed. Kurt Vonnegut's "Breakfast of Champions" was a good length to concentrate. I can't imagine being able to make it through 52 hours of War and Peace or anything like that. But this was good: the reader had an engaging voice, Gunther didn't distract me with too many bad breath burps and the characters were odd, which translates to interesting.
So now I'm cozily tucked into my Motel 6 room in Nebraska, which was $39.99 very well spent. It's clean, charges nothing extra for the dog and even offers free Internet. I can't figure out how when you stay at the W in Manhattan for $380 a night or the Mondrian in LA, you have to pay about $15 per day for Internet, but it's free here. And I think they give me a continental breakfast tomorrow morning too. Ahh, I'll never get tired of a good bargain!
I drove about 650 miles today which equaled just about 10 arduous hours on on the road. It didn't get to be tiresome until about the last hour or two though namely, because I spent a good six-hour chunk of my drive listening to an audiobook which Amie and Wally so lovingly loaded up on an iPod for me. I'll admit, this was my first full audiobook experience. I was skeptical of my own ADD tendencies in the car, but I'm proud to say I prevailed. Kurt Vonnegut's "Breakfast of Champions" was a good length to concentrate. I can't imagine being able to make it through 52 hours of War and Peace or anything like that. But this was good: the reader had an engaging voice, Gunther didn't distract me with too many bad breath burps and the characters were odd, which translates to interesting.
So now I'm cozily tucked into my Motel 6 room in Nebraska, which was $39.99 very well spent. It's clean, charges nothing extra for the dog and even offers free Internet. I can't figure out how when you stay at the W in Manhattan for $380 a night or the Mondrian in LA, you have to pay about $15 per day for Internet, but it's free here. And I think they give me a continental breakfast tomorrow morning too. Ahh, I'll never get tired of a good bargain!
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Ski Lexicon Lesson #2
If you ask any seasoned skier what the most important piece of ski equipment is, most will say your ski boots. But ski boots are definitely not the most sexy piece of equipment. Never will someone say, "Wow, those boots make your butt look great!" or even, "I can tell those boots are the new '08 Fancy Pants brand, nice!" You will definitely get more attention from a $10 new ski hat than you will from a $600 new pair of ski boots. But although they may not make you feel hot, today I will tell you why they are the unsung hero of ski equipment.
Until today, my ski boots were about 12 years old. My Dad bought them for me in college and although there was nothing particularly wrong with them, I had a feeling that it was time to invest in new boots. I had heard things about "power transfer" and custom fit, so today I made the pricey and strangely lackluster decision to upgrade my most practical and boring piece of over-loved equipment. Now I will admit, this was a tough decision for me. Because there is just something inherently difficult about dropping good money on new equipment when, as far as you can tell, your old boots work just fine. Plus there is the emotional attachment dorky skiers like me have with their equipment. You remember where you bought them (Mission Ski & Sport in East Lansing), when you first lost your big toenails breaking them in fresh powder (Steamboat, CO) and of course, the many apres ski drinks you imbibed wearing these beloved pieces of plastic (too many places to list). But, I did know that new boots were said to be warmer, more comfortable and were created to make the most out of power transfer with shaped skis. That brings me to my first definition of today:
Shaped Skis (aka Parabolic Skis): Up until about ten years ago, skis were pretty much a straight design on the length of ski, with the obvious ski-like tip. But in the past ten years or so, the design of ski has changed immensely (not kidding). They are now significantly wider at the front end (called the shovel), most narrow near the boot, and flair out again in the back.
Ok, but back to boots. So after deciding it was time to contemplate purchasing new boots to match my newer shaped skis, I made an appointment at Viking Ski and Sports here in the city. This is known as a fabulous place to buy boots as they spend a lot of time with you. Again, boot fitliness is next to godliness. There's nothing worse than a boot that pinches, cramps your calves, crams your toes or lets your heels lift off the ground. Ski boots have never been comfortable because of their rigid plastic and tight fit, but there is a huge difference between a boot that you can tolerate for an hour of skiing and one you can crank in for eight hours and still wear it to the bar after. Obviously, the latter is what we're aiming for here.
Now, walking in to Viking Ski on a Sunday afternoon before ski season undoubtedly restored my faith in the economy. Because there was damn near a line out the door. Now I don't know if this is truly saying much about the economy in Chicago, but it was clear to me that there sure were a lot of people who were much worse skiers than myself, willing to drop 3K-5K on outfitting their family of four with new ski equipment. Yikes. Thankfully I am just funding a family of one.
The guy I really wanted to fit me was named Drew, but he was booked up with other customers. Drew is known as one of the best boot fitters in the Midwest (yes, there is such a cache) and it doesn't hurt that he's easy on the eyes. But instead of Drew, I got stuck with his co-worker Tom. Now, buying boots at this place is similar to buying running shoes at Fleet Feet in Chicago. You are not allowed to choose a shoe on color and none of the shoes you try on have prices that are easy to spot. Same story with Viking. The idea is that they want to find the best fit, regardless of color or price. Great, bet I'm going to end up in the neon green and hot pink boots that are $1200.
But, after Tom asked me about my ski level and I got some nicely-timed gasps from everyone in the store when I said I was about to leave on a three-week ski trip, he brought out a couple boots for me to try on. Neither felt as good as my old boots. So he brought out two more. And then about six more. I kept comparing them to my existing boots and just wasn't convinced it was worth the cash. And then I tried on every single advanced women's ski boot in the entire store until I finally found a boot that felt good. It was a Tecnica, nice enough looking and thankfully was not the most expensive boot in the store (I was finally brave enough to inquire about price).
Then, Tom started telling me about the heat fit technology that comes with the boot. Not only will they outfit me with heel inserts and all sorts of other custom adjustments, but they will actually heat up the lining and then mold it to your foot. Now this, was genuius! If Tom would've told me about this technology at the beginning of his sales pitch, I would have been sold much sooner! My Dad had a pair of Hanson boots he kept for over 30 years because of a technology similar to this. He swore it was the best purchase he had ever made. Suddenly, I was feeling much better about my decision to buy a new pair of boots after a measley 12 years because I was getting custom molding!
In order to achieve custom fit, they heat up the linings, suit you up in these special socks and then have you basically flex forward in your boots for 15-20 minutes. Since the flex move was the beginning of a squat move, I took the liberty to knock out about 500 squats instead. I think the other shoppers thought I was a bit strange, especially when I started noticably sweating, but I figured it was a good use of time, and a fabulous way to getting the boot insert just how I wanted it.
Then it came time to bring in my skis so they could fit my bindings to the new boots. I thought they could do this on the spot, but no, they need three days. And of course, there is a charge for this. When I heard about the amount of the charge, I had some slight consumer dissonance. In fact, I almost walked out of the store and said forget it. I couldn't believe how here I was, spending $550 on boots and then they were going to charge me $40 to move the bindings on centimeter! I explained the idiocy of this charge to the manager and told him that if he'd like my business again, he wouldn't charge me for something it takes an 18-year-old two minutes to do (no exaggeration here, either). So thankfully, they took off the service charge and I was able to actually complete the transaction, pay for my new boots, and walk out of the store hoping I made a good purchase. I will pick up my new boots and old skis on Thursday evening, one day before I hit the road. Perfect timing. Now all I can do is pray for snow!
Until today, my ski boots were about 12 years old. My Dad bought them for me in college and although there was nothing particularly wrong with them, I had a feeling that it was time to invest in new boots. I had heard things about "power transfer" and custom fit, so today I made the pricey and strangely lackluster decision to upgrade my most practical and boring piece of over-loved equipment. Now I will admit, this was a tough decision for me. Because there is just something inherently difficult about dropping good money on new equipment when, as far as you can tell, your old boots work just fine. Plus there is the emotional attachment dorky skiers like me have with their equipment. You remember where you bought them (Mission Ski & Sport in East Lansing), when you first lost your big toenails breaking them in fresh powder (Steamboat, CO) and of course, the many apres ski drinks you imbibed wearing these beloved pieces of plastic (too many places to list). But, I did know that new boots were said to be warmer, more comfortable and were created to make the most out of power transfer with shaped skis. That brings me to my first definition of today:
Shaped Skis (aka Parabolic Skis): Up until about ten years ago, skis were pretty much a straight design on the length of ski, with the obvious ski-like tip. But in the past ten years or so, the design of ski has changed immensely (not kidding). They are now significantly wider at the front end (called the shovel), most narrow near the boot, and flair out again in the back.
Ok, but back to boots. So after deciding it was time to contemplate purchasing new boots to match my newer shaped skis, I made an appointment at Viking Ski and Sports here in the city. This is known as a fabulous place to buy boots as they spend a lot of time with you. Again, boot fitliness is next to godliness. There's nothing worse than a boot that pinches, cramps your calves, crams your toes or lets your heels lift off the ground. Ski boots have never been comfortable because of their rigid plastic and tight fit, but there is a huge difference between a boot that you can tolerate for an hour of skiing and one you can crank in for eight hours and still wear it to the bar after. Obviously, the latter is what we're aiming for here.
Now, walking in to Viking Ski on a Sunday afternoon before ski season undoubtedly restored my faith in the economy. Because there was damn near a line out the door. Now I don't know if this is truly saying much about the economy in Chicago, but it was clear to me that there sure were a lot of people who were much worse skiers than myself, willing to drop 3K-5K on outfitting their family of four with new ski equipment. Yikes. Thankfully I am just funding a family of one.
The guy I really wanted to fit me was named Drew, but he was booked up with other customers. Drew is known as one of the best boot fitters in the Midwest (yes, there is such a cache) and it doesn't hurt that he's easy on the eyes. But instead of Drew, I got stuck with his co-worker Tom. Now, buying boots at this place is similar to buying running shoes at Fleet Feet in Chicago. You are not allowed to choose a shoe on color and none of the shoes you try on have prices that are easy to spot. Same story with Viking. The idea is that they want to find the best fit, regardless of color or price. Great, bet I'm going to end up in the neon green and hot pink boots that are $1200.
But, after Tom asked me about my ski level and I got some nicely-timed gasps from everyone in the store when I said I was about to leave on a three-week ski trip, he brought out a couple boots for me to try on. Neither felt as good as my old boots. So he brought out two more. And then about six more. I kept comparing them to my existing boots and just wasn't convinced it was worth the cash. And then I tried on every single advanced women's ski boot in the entire store until I finally found a boot that felt good. It was a Tecnica, nice enough looking and thankfully was not the most expensive boot in the store (I was finally brave enough to inquire about price).
Then, Tom started telling me about the heat fit technology that comes with the boot. Not only will they outfit me with heel inserts and all sorts of other custom adjustments, but they will actually heat up the lining and then mold it to your foot. Now this, was genuius! If Tom would've told me about this technology at the beginning of his sales pitch, I would have been sold much sooner! My Dad had a pair of Hanson boots he kept for over 30 years because of a technology similar to this. He swore it was the best purchase he had ever made. Suddenly, I was feeling much better about my decision to buy a new pair of boots after a measley 12 years because I was getting custom molding!
In order to achieve custom fit, they heat up the linings, suit you up in these special socks and then have you basically flex forward in your boots for 15-20 minutes. Since the flex move was the beginning of a squat move, I took the liberty to knock out about 500 squats instead. I think the other shoppers thought I was a bit strange, especially when I started noticably sweating, but I figured it was a good use of time, and a fabulous way to getting the boot insert just how I wanted it.
Then it came time to bring in my skis so they could fit my bindings to the new boots. I thought they could do this on the spot, but no, they need three days. And of course, there is a charge for this. When I heard about the amount of the charge, I had some slight consumer dissonance. In fact, I almost walked out of the store and said forget it. I couldn't believe how here I was, spending $550 on boots and then they were going to charge me $40 to move the bindings on centimeter! I explained the idiocy of this charge to the manager and told him that if he'd like my business again, he wouldn't charge me for something it takes an 18-year-old two minutes to do (no exaggeration here, either). So thankfully, they took off the service charge and I was able to actually complete the transaction, pay for my new boots, and walk out of the store hoping I made a good purchase. I will pick up my new boots and old skis on Thursday evening, one day before I hit the road. Perfect timing. Now all I can do is pray for snow!
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