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Do you remember your first day skiing? - Page 2

post #31 of 74

Yea, I remember my first day. It was at the tender age of 54.


The steepish section at the top of the green run was a real challenge, made more so by rental boots and skis. By Season two I had my own equipment. Armed with a season pass and a fist full of cash I skied 42 days and took 15 lessons. By season three I was halfway decent and my wife wasn't bored skiing with me. I look forward to season nine.

post #32 of 74

Mine was in Portillo, Chile in 1996.

I was 16, and back then Portillo used to have week packages were you'd get 4 meals a day, plus 3 hour ski classes every morning.

I was hooked by the beauty of those mountains and after a week having classes every day I was really having tons of fun on the slopes.


This trip changed my life!

post #33 of 74

I was five and very unsure of what I was doing. It was cold, and I had no goggles.

post #34 of 74
When I was in high school my friend and gymnastics teammate Ken “taught” me to ski at Four Lakes in Lisle, IL. Here is the level of instruction that I received in its entirety: “Rent the equipment, it is easy.” So after leaving the rental shop and putting on my skis I headed up the rope tow watching people skiing down as I headed up. Based on what I saw, I put my skis together and pointed them downhill. Without turning I sped up as I headed downhill well past the bottom of the rope tow into the parking lot. Fortunately my skis were aimed at the passenger door of a car which allowed me to catch myself and absorb any impact with my arms while my ski tips went under the car without hitting the tires. Neither the car nor I was harmed by this. I made my way back to the rope tow and watched people skiing as I headed back up. This time I noticed that they also turned their skis. I proceeded to make a combination of right turns and pointing straight down until I was as far to skier’s right as possible by the time I made it to the bottom of the hill. After a long step and push back to the rope tow I headed up for my third run. I was able to combine left turns with right turns which allowed me to ski directly back to the bottom of the rope tow. On my fourth ride up I noticed that there were some people who actually fell when they skied. I had no desire to do this as I hadn’t fallen, but I was concerned for their safety so I practiced stopping on my way downhill just in case they fell in front of me. I skied the rest of the day without falling even once. My friend Ken was right. It was easy.
post #35 of 74
Yes, even have a video. It was back in 05, was doing amazingly well for a first timer, but didn't ski again for quite a few year after.
post #36 of 74

I grew up in Florida, swimming, surfing and skateboarding.


I had a friend back in the mid 70's when we were just out of high school who somehow ended up in Breckenridge attempting to be a full time ski bum. But he would run out of money and come back to FL in the summer and he would not shut up about how much better skiing was than surfing. Well for him it was true because he was a disaster in the water anyways but I remember thinking that I was a surfer not a skier and if I have time and money it's going to be Hawaii not Colorado.


In the 80's my girlfriend (now wife) was from New England. The first winter we were together we ended up in Stowe and of course she had to impress me with her cross country skills. She could ski-skate up those little rises no problem and I would have to use my poles and brute strength to keep up with her. I was humbled and humiliated and frankly pissed off!


The next year we went to Mt Wachusett and went down some hills the way God intended and that was more to my liking. I don't remember the equipment but it was 1985 rental stuff whatever that would have been. We only had one afternoon there but it was fun and there was a lot of snow. Later on her family moved up to North Troy (Jay Peak) and it was a yearly trip after that.


I've never skied more than 7 days in a row or more than 10 days in a season but I've never missed a day that I could have skied. The surfing has kinda been put on the back burner. Skiing is a lot more forgiving than surfing for a 61 year old man. I can still surf but I tend to have a lot more fun on the mountain than the beach.

post #37 of 74

March of 1986...Telluride, Colorado...I was 14 years old and my dad and I were on a father-son bonding road trip from Missouri where I guess the plan was for him to talk to me about the facts of life (which I don't recall him ever doing).  We had a friend who owned a place just outside of Telluride.  On this drive from Missouri, it was my first time farther west than Junction City, Kansas.  The first Rocky Mountain that I laid eyes on was Pike's Peak (like many before me).  I was blown away by the beauty and size of the Rockies and kept thinking as we drove along the Arkansas River "How do people ski down THOSE?!?"


When driving to Telluride, I saw two other ski places along the way.  Ski Broadmoor was visible when passing through Colorado Springs (back then) and Monarch was right along the way.  There really wasn't much to see from the road when passing these places.  What I could see didn't look too bad.  Then I arrived at Telluride.  Holy moly!  I was exhausted from the long drive and there I was in town looking straight up the Telluride Face.  I felt sick.  We drove all that way only to die a horrible death.  In all the mountains I've been to over the years, no place has quite the effect that Telluride does when it comes to a steep mountain rising out of the town (Aspen Mountain is the only one that comes even remotely close, in my experience).


I was greatly relieved upon learning that Telluride has a gentler "backside" known as Gorrono Basin.  I spent my first day there taking an all-day lesson which was spent exclusively on the Meadows run (Lift 10 had not yet been built).  I took a morning lesson on Day 2 and then started heading up the mountain.  I fell in love with many things on that 4-day trip: mainly snow skiing, the Rockies and everything that is Telluride.

post #38 of 74

For Christmas 1963 (I was 10)  my parents gave my brothers and me skis.  They had just built a cabin near Stevens Pass and this was their way of getting rid of the kids for the day so they could enjoy some quiet time.  I was the youngest (brothers were 16 and 19) and had no interest at all, but I had no choice.  It was miserable.  No real instruction, just "get out there and do it."


It took me a couple of years but I became addicted and never looked back.  Now the cabin is mine and I still ski at Stevens.  Next season will be my 52nd.

post #39 of 74

i most certainly and fondly do!  actually a love-hate day.... while at cornell went to greek peak 1974 with my beautiful and ski/skate local champ lenore mazza (shoulda kept her forever, but that´s another story).


snapped into skis but forgot to tie the leash... so, first, absolutely first time off the chairlift (didn´t fall, entirely), fell immediately, ripped a brand new jacket she´d given me, lost one ski, and walked all the way down to recover said ski at base of that run.  hated it so much never skied gp again, and only 2 years later ¨skied¨ at some southern vt place with 4 college buddies, don´t remember much of that day...


now, i´m hooked!

post #40 of 74
Boy, it might have been 74 that I went to Greek Peak on a company bus trip, got GLM length skis, and realized that I'd learned something in Austria... Can't remember if that was 73-74 or 74-75.
post #41 of 74

i easily remember my first day...a family of Texans in Taos. I remember getting out of the truck and the first words out of my mouth was "were all going to die here". I took to skis pretty quickly coming from the coast water skiing. before anyone says anything, yes the techniques are totally opposite but there's still that feeling of sliding across a slick surface that felt very familiar. at the end of my first group lesson, the instructor dismissed everyone for the day and pulled me aside. he said "hey hot shit Texan, wanna check out what this is all about?" not knowing what I was about to embark on I agreed, and he encouraged me that I was ready to tackle the hill and that I was well advanced of my never ever classmates. It was almost impossible to hide my anxiety as we loaded the lift and started what felt like the steepest climb of anything ive ever been on. I remember looking over my shoulder and the village looked like ants. I couldn't get over the sheer beauty of the place and it agged me on into places I wasn't really comfortable with, yet rewarding me with a feeling I had never felt before. I thought everything was insanely steep, and everyone on the slopes had some sort of suicidal tendencies as they flew around me at warp speeds jumping off of everything imaginable. we took it slow stopping every few hundred feet jumping from point to point giving instruction along the way. That was it, I was hooked, I needed more, and I needed it now. we worked our way to the bottom on that crowded cat track called white feather, and once we reached the bottom he asked if I was down for another run.....that trip down the hill eventually set in motion  a 1300 mile move from the texas coast to the colorado front range. weve been loving life ever since!

post #42 of 74

I've told this story here and apologize to those who've read it.


After my father retired, my parents moved back East from Iowa to fulfill my mother's 40-year desire to leave Iowa (the blasted wilderness) and return to her home state.  In 1988 or '89, my wife and I visited them from California one Christmas, where they lived on Lake Mascoma in Enfield.  The winter had been brutal; the snow was deep and the nights far below zero.  For Christmas, my parents gave us both bright blue snow pants, matching bright blue fleece neck-warmers, blue hats, and long underwear, and said they'd set us up for a day skiing (with a lesson for me).


My wife was game, having skied since she was six (Afton Alps, and various places in Colorado and California), and I was too, sort of, because why not (other than it was windy and ten below)?  I was 31 or 32, chronologically.  We went to Whaleback and rented equipment -- boots feel very strange, the first time you put them on -- and I clumped out to get the lesson.  It lasted about ten minutes (long enough to lose touch with my feet), on a bunny hill about ten yards long with ten feet of vertical.  The guy showed me how to snowplow (still the vocabulary then), and then disappeared, saying, "You can head on up the mountain, now."  Really?  My wife wafted up at about that moment, so we took the lift for the top.


Following behind her was super nice -- such a lovely thing to see! -- but my shins were killing me in that stupid wedge, and I couldn't figure out how to turn or how to stop, except to crash into whatever soft object I found in my path.  When we got to the bottom, we called it a day.  


I didn't ski again until my son was four, in 2005.  This time, I googled "How to ski," and discovered a primitive Harald Harb website, which taught me how to ski parallel, stupid-wedgeless, which I did while my wife taught my son to ski (poor thing).  I still fell down a lot, but I could go places, and I could stop, which I can still do, pretty well.

post #43 of 74

My apologies, this is a very self-indulgent post, but some of you may find it interesting.  I skied for the first time five times.


1) After skiing 3 months everyday on local cross-country snowpack in 78-79, winning Kentucky’s first and only (AFAIK) XC race, I go to the newly-opened local ski hill, Paoli Peaks.  I ski on their flat “black” run (“Graber’s Express,” still there) on my 45mm XC racing skis, part of a slick $200 ensemble from Elan, dodging fallen skiers all the way.  So light, 2.5 pounds on each foot including boots.  It looked like a war zone, but nothing serious :) .  I lamented my lack of metal edges or sidecut but had loads of fun…nobody passed me, a nice ego boost.


2) Moved to Jackson Hole in Sept ’79, did construction then got a skiing job with the mountain: base bathroom and onslope portajohn sanitation called “Bowl Patrol,” a job description that still exists.  Very little snow in Dec. meant a trip to Targhee to get ready.  I had good gear, but was flailing for two (blue) runs on Crazy Horse.  So I think, maybe I need to go faster?  Bingo, in one turn I go from barely intermediate to advanced, no worries after that.  Rendezvous was my skiing world for a 100-day-long season, until bang in May, broken neck and paralysis.


3) Went to Breckenridge Outdoor Education Center in 1982, their 2nd year, skied in little bathtubs, “Arroya” and “Mountain Man.”  They worked OK in soft snow.  I bought one and skied locally in KY and IN, actually there were 3 local ski areas then.  But the hard snow and the drag-the-short-pole-in-your-hand method of braking to turn was hell on my shoulders.  To simulate this, cut your poles short so that the base of your grip rests *on* the basket, i.e. no shaft, then scrape this stub (“ski brake”) on the snow to turn.  Try it on ice…  In 1983 I went to Santa Cruz to see the Arroya’s designer, Peter Axelson, and said (along with many others), “this needs a ski under it!”  In year he did just that and still uses that unit to this day.


4) From KY then Maine I moved to SoCal in ’87 and visited  Tahoe in ’90, having just heard there was a *real* sit-ski: one ski, outrigger skis, suspension, the works.  I did it a few times at Alpine Meadows and fast became an intermediate again, after a decade.  But they kinda left me alone out there, taking interest in the less-disabled skiers.  So that and the 8-hour drive led me to do other sports.


5) Moved to Nebraska in ’95 for work, then back to KY.  Decided to look again at sit skiing in 2009 and holy shit, there’s a local adaptive program!  But the main instructor sucked, the gear wasn’t set up right (the ski was mounted one *foot* too far back), back to intermediate on ice.  Busted my head bad on one fall and lost a year to subdural hematoma, but skied a little each season.  Finally went west to Breck in 2012, returned to Jackson in April 2013 and March 2014.  Then a great*** first-year local sit skier named Odie Pierce said, “Dude!  Except when riding the lift, we high-level paraplegics *must* have our seatbacks locked *forward* to ski!”  That simple little nugget transformed my skiing, just like that first impulse many years ago to try more speed.  The next day I was doing this

in an easy-but-slow children’s dual ski (my gear had problems), and went much faster using my mono ski the next day.  After 34 years, I’m finally back to blackness and more trips west including mighty Jackson in March.     


***Odie, a high-level paraplegic like me (nearly quadriplegic) from birth, skied for the first time last season.  He has skied around 40 days in his life, oddly about the same on-snow sit-ski time I've had in all this time.  In February, with another Steep-and-Deep Adaptive Camp participant, he skied over 40,000 vertical feet in one day at Targhee... OFF PISTE.  That's 20 summit laps and 25+ miles long!  They were the very first on the chair and took no breaks until down from the *very* last chair.  Among other things, that means no water all day.  Am I a good sitskier?  After you see Odie, not just no, but **** no.



Edited by whippersnapper - 9/29/14 at 4:21am
post #44 of 74
Thanks for indulging us. Great post.
post #45 of 74

I remember it like it was yesterday.


1985   Smokey Mountain Ski club in Labrador City, Newfoundland, Canada.  (I bet I'm the only person on this site to have skied there lol)


Labrador was a VERY cold place to ski.   All lifts at that time were platter poma lifts.  They had a fixed grip poma for beginners and a 'high speed' detached poma for experts.


There was no way anyone who hadn't skied before could manager the detached poma so I only rode fixed grip for my first year, and it only went a 1/4 way up what was a 1000+' vertical mountain.


I loved it from the first day, but I was NOT good at all to say the least.   I did develop parallel skills pretty quickly which was nice.   Skied nearly every day with my dad and brother at this hill for 2 full years.   Our house was 4 miles from the lift.


We used to ride our snowmobiles there with our ski boots on and we had a locker there with our skis and poles in it.  Such an easy way to ski...

post #46 of 74
Originally Posted by MT Skull View Post

I remember crushing the bunny slope at Vernon Valley.:D


Seriously though; I remember my folks taking me to my first ski swap on Rt 23 in North Jersey in '68 or '69. I think I was 7.


My first skis had screw-in edges, and step-in bindings. I was the lucky one; my older brothers all got some God-awful cable bindings that were constantly falling off. Also had leather boots, but with buckles, as opposed to lace-up. I vaguely remember my first lesson; being taught how to fall, get back up using my poles, how to side-step, and V-step, snowplow, ride a rope tow, all that good stuff. Can't really remember if it all happened the first day, or if it was spread out throughout the short season. Either way, by season's end, I was riding chairlifts, and skiing Sugar Slope, either in lessons, or with the Fam.


Dad got us season passes, and we skied every weekend during the 68/69, and 69/70 seasons. After that my folks split, but dad continued to take us skiing on his visitation weekends, as well as enrolling us in our school's once a week trips to Craigmere, then Snowbowl, then Vernon Valley/Great Gorge from 3rd grade through middle school. Later, mom got us hooked up for YMCA trips to Huntah during high school.


I've always said, teaching me to ski was one of the greatest things my dad ever did for me. OTOH, dad had/has some anger issues, so skiing was always kind of a high-pressure endeavor. It wasn't until I got my driver's license at 17, and started night skiing with my buddies that I really started to enjoy the sport. 


This post made me smile. I am also a member of the "Rt 23 Ski Club". Rt 23 was and is NJ's Ski Highway.


Initially, there was lots of time skiing in the back yard. My first ski area was Craigmeur when I was  4 in 1965 and I am pretty sure I remember it, although we did ski Craigmeur many times. I do remember skiing at Big Tupper, NY, later that year. We also skied Snow Bowl, Campgaw, Mt Peter, and eventually Vernon Valley and Great Gorge. My Dad taught me and my Mom and eventually my sisters and brother. Sadly, he passed away about a year ago. My mom still skis and they created a family that loves skiing.We still ski together many times each year.



My parents with me at Craigmeur, 1966


 My mom and her kids at Stratton last year

Edited by x10003q - 10/6/14 at 8:21am
post #47 of 74
Nice to see I'm not the only late bloomer! Started at age 50 six years ago on New Year's Day 2009. It was bitter cold for PA, sub-zero when we started, maybe 0 C high for the day. My wife had skied a lot in her teens and college years in WI, but then married a Texan that knew nothing about snow, although grad school at UW toughened me up when it came to the cold. Flash forward to middle school and my wife wants to finally get the kids on skis, but she is worried I will hate it, which will make it difficult to sustain as a family activity. Having always been athletic through my life, I looked at it as just another cool sport to try and master. Just one problem. I'm 6' 7" annd weighed 240 lbs (gained a little too much weight when injures made me give up basketball and running!), which leads her to believe I will kill myself somehow. So we head to Jack Frost in the Poconos, and the kids and I hit the bunny slope with our rentals and lessons while my wife gets acquainted with the new shaped ski technology (the local ski shop laughed at her old straight skis, boots, and bindings, but that was for the best). After the lesson, my daughter and I hit the green trails and avoid killing ourselves, while my son follows my wife down a blue and never looks back. Skiied that day to the last lift line and still try to! I did have to bail out once to avoid hitting a tree, so maybe her fears were warranted, but I wanted to go again immediately. Since then, my ski days have steadily progressed in number each season, I bought us boots ands skis then tuning equipment so I can do it myself, and we've started making trips to New England for extended days (Mt Snow last year, planning to visit Sunday River and a different VT resort this year). Seeing as how I'm posting here, I think you can see that I've definitely caught the bug! Skiing inspired me to get back in better shape so I'm hitting the gym regularly and I'm down to < 230 lb, but would like to get to 220 lb before this season. My wife and son can ski circles around me, but what do I care, I'm having a blast!
post #48 of 74
Originally Posted by Fuller View Post

I grew up in Florida, swimming, surfing and skateboarding.


I had a friend back in the mid 70's when we were just out of high school who somehow ended up in Breckenridge attempting to be a full time ski bum. But he would run out of money and come back to FL in the summer and he would not shut up about how much better skiing was than surfing.

I've never skied more than 7 days in a row or more than 10 days in a season but I've never missed a day that I could have skied. The surfing has kinda been put on the back burner. Skiing is a lot more forgiving than surfing for a 61 year old man. I can still surf but I tend to have a lot more fun on the mountain than the beach.

Oddly, I have found myself getting away from surfing over the last 3 years, as I adopted two buddies that want me to walk with them in the mornings.  Thing is, when I do get out in the water, it is crowded and 3+ guys paddling for every wave.  It gets old (or maybe I am) scrapping for waves.  In the mountains, even when it is crowded, I can hold up for a moment, let the crowd go by and then have the line to myself.  I really love both the ocean and the mountains, but the inconsistency of the surf and the crowds just make skiing so much more fun for me.


And I remember my first time on skis, my friends took me to Mammoth and up Chair 5.  For a first run on skis I wasn't happy, but once I ditched those idiots and found the bunny slopes I was hooked.

post #49 of 74

Grand View Golf Course, Duluth Minnesota, 1968. It had 1 rope tow about 50 feet long. I skied with wood Spauldings, cable bindings, and leather lace boots.

post #50 of 74

My first, first-time on skis.  Night skiing lessons at Catamount.  I didn't know better.  Rental equipment, I don't remember if anything fit.  No snowpants, no waterproof jacket.  I did have mittens. 


My class was myself and a little boy about 6 years old.  I was 23 and scared as hell.  Lesson #4 (of 6) the 16 year old teacher decided to challenge us so she took us up a lift and put us on top of something that was kinda icy and badly lit.  Down we went.  All pretty good until a particularly weird turn and instead of the binding releasing, my knee did.  No sled, just gritted my teeth and finished the lesson. 


I didn't ski again for 15 years. 


My second first time on skis was a lot better.  Thanksgiving day at Breckenridge and so little snow they had to ride us up on snowmobiles to get us to terrain that was at all covered. Still had rental equipment that produced a bloody, raw ankle-bone afterwards.  No fear this time.  Just joy.


I'm still skiing.

post #51 of 74

Funny; my parents started me out right, with ski pants, ski jacket, gloves, hat, goggles, etc. At some point during Jr High, or High School I decided I was too cool for all that, and started skiing in jeans, no hat, and sunglasses. I remember skiing in jeans on my first, and second trip to Snowbird, once during a major dump, and having snow pile up on my thighs on the lift, only to melt, and refreeze on each subsequent lap. Soaked right through to my cotton long-johns too, but I was too young and dumb, and having way too much fun to care!


Sometime in my mid twenties I rediscovered ski clothing and goggles, and in my forties, helmets, and have never looked back. (except to ridicule myself in my teens and early 20's) OK, the hot pink Nevica pants I had in my late 20's were kind of ridiculous too, but still way more functional than the jeans! Wish I still had those pants, and the teal SOS shell for gaper/long-board days! 

post #52 of 74

parts of that first day are very clear. It was in 1969, when I was 12, signed up for a junior high school bus program 6 Saturdays in January and February up at Mission Ridge, 3 hours away.


I remember hiking up a berm in class with the others, and doing the first snow plow ever. I remember by the end of the day we were doing pretty good off the rope tow, which is still in existence today at the same location on the mountain., of course newer parts (maybe that's what I need, new parts) It was a morning lesson and then all afternoon free. I remember looking at the chairlift at the end of the day and thinking that was where I would go next week. (I was up at Mission for the first time in many years about 5 years ago and the chairlift is still there and has no new parts, more like myself. Old two seater riblet chugging away)


I remember wet blue jeans and cotton long johns, when the fun of the skiing was over and I had my first taste of cold and miserable on the hill before poly propylene was here to save us. It took me a few times (If I remember right) before I went to the army surplus store and bought a pair of GI rain pants, wow those were fast when you fell on a steep slope. Oh Yeah, my boots were rented Raichles, plastic made to look like leather (most plastic boots then were made to look like leather, after all plastic is cheap stuff )


For the next four years the six weeks of Saturday skiing where pretty much all I got, and while the first day was not bad I definitely got to know Mission Ridge and progressed through the stages on each step of difficulty, 1) I'm going to die, 2) I will kill myself before I ever do this again 3) I made it but I will kill myself before I ever do that again 4) you know that was not too bad.


This isn't the first day but I did a lot of skiing at Mission and the question brought up some memories, among them standing in hip deep cascade crud on Toketie watching a tucker sno-cat tow a chunk of chain link fence by about a 150 yds  below us, might as well have been on the moon for all the help it gave us for the  next 45 minutes or so that it took to get to the "groomed snow". This was one of those I'll kill myself moments, which I over came and today those are laughable fun times, glad I have enjoyed them wouldn't change it for the world. 

post #53 of 74

Christmas day 1958. I've got a 3 hour long string of Super8 reels spanning 15 years on my computer with about 5 minutes of that day. If I ever learn how to edit I'll post it up. I was rad and just pointed down the fall line an straight lined it baby :yahoo:

post #54 of 74

I remember this more vividly than my first kiss. 


I was 10 years old. Joined ski club to make friends because I didn't have any. And it was a Wednesday night in January at a place called Clear Fork in Northern Ohio. I got yelled at for being late to the bus and holding everyone up... I didnt want to leave... and havent since. 

post #55 of 74

My father was from Maine and my mother from Idaho, and they decided to live in SoCal because they both hated snow. I first saw snow fall at college in New Jersey.


Introduction to skiing was a total fluke. A friend invited me (age 23) along on his uncle's high roller junket to Las Vegas for New Year's 1976. The uncle was from Miami and his daughter wanted to see snow, so we all went out to Lee Canyon (now Ski Las Vegas) and got rentals and played around on a 100-foot handle tow for a couple of hours.


Intrigued, I checked out my closest local area (Baldy, not a good choice for a beginner) when it finally snowed in February 1976. On my second Baldy day in March 1976 I blew out my left ACL and was not walking normally for the next 3 months. As the knee is not unstable, I didn't know the nature of the injury until an MRI revealed it 19 years later.


I was still interested in skiing and managed 5 days in 1977, which was dominated by my then overriding obsession of tournament bridge. I put in some more effort in 1978, becoming your typical low intermediate, sort of parallel skier on the easy runs, by March of that 12-day season. April 1-2 and May 13-14 were my first Mammoth trips.


By now I had the bug, but I was troubled by my slow progress as a beginner, consistent with my dismal performance at nearly all sports while growing up. I'd begun reading about skiing and was aware of the prevailing opinion that "skiing is easy to learn, but very hard to break through the intermediate plateau and ski carved turns, steep terrain and variable snow."


I was also very sore after those 2 Mammoth weekends and therefore started YMCA ski fitness classes in November 1978. The snow gods smiled upon SoCal in 1978-79 and I was able to ski at least one day of every weekend from November 18 until April in SoCal if I wasn't at Mammoth.


By April 1979 I had skied 30 days, the feared "intermediate plateau" was history and I was a true addict. I was carving turns by February, and I had a 50K weekend at Mammoth March 31/April 1 which included my first runs on Wipe Out/Drop Out.

post #56 of 74

first day skiing would have been in January of 1989 at Manning Park in BC. My dad & brother had been skiing for years. Finally got to ski. So we loaded up the 84 4 door civic and headed up to the hill. It was a perfect bluebird day and maybe -2 -3. This was also the time that the stretchy ski pants were all the rage(thankfully no pictures exist)


took a 2 hour lesson and was skiing a half-functional parallel by the end of the day. It was awesome and a day i'll never forget. Skied regularly up until 2000 and unfortunately took too long of a hiatus until 2012. Now I'm back skiing and really do regret the time I missed. 


Ah well, i'm only 32 and have a lot of great days ahead!

post #57 of 74

I can't remember my first day of skiing.  One of my earliest memories was waking up after knocking myself unconscious underneath the chairlift and everyone pointing and laughing..  :)  I think I was 8 or 9..flat-light.  I think I broke the toe piece of my binding that same year going down the steepest bump run at the hill I was at.  I remember a lot of jeans and cotton long-johns from those days...  Good times! 

post #58 of 74
It was a long time ago, so all that's left are snapshot images and recalled sensations. It was a bright, sunny day in the winter of '65 ("we were hungry, just barely alive"), at a place then called Timber Hill in the fantastic Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania. Just turned four years old. Pretty much the same equipment as MT Skull; wooden skis a foot and a half taller than my little blond head, beartrap bindings, ungodly leather boots with laces, and, worst of all, scratchy wool ski pants made for someone who actually had hips, and which kept falling down my butt. Shown how to walk up the flat side of a little incline in front of the lodge and slide down the steeper part. Then Daddy went off, probably to teach a lesson, and I was left to my own devices. Lots of stepping on my own skis, falling down and being very uncomfortable with my ski twisted behind my head. According to my father's revisionist history, I was so lazy and cunning, I would simply lay there screaming until some kind soul would pick me up, at which point I would then speed off.

The next year, or the year after, my father went to Big Boulder to teach for Marilyn Hertz, which is when I was actually given instructions.

It has taken me 49 years of therapy to get over that day. I find the best therapy to be sliding down snow-covered mountains.
post #59 of 74
I used to ski with Marilyn. I think her husband died in the last year or so.
post #60 of 74
Originally Posted by Utah Andrew View Post

It was the early 80s and I was five at the time.  I remember going to either Wolfe's or Gart Brothers Sporting Goods (anyone remember those places?) in Salt Lake to try on ski boots.  That Christmas I got my first skis and a few days later my dad took me skiing at Brighton.  I don't remember a lot about that day but do remember sliding around and being cold but having a lot of fun. 

I too learned at Brighton in 1977.  If I remember correctly, Sears actually had a season beginner ski package (skis equipment, Brighton lessons,half day lift tickets).  I got the ugliest ski pants ever made.  They were 4 panel clown pants.  The 4 colors were like the most popular 70's shag carpet colors.  I am sure the pants were my parent's choice based mostly on price.  My parents have absolutely no concept of cool.  If I recall right, I think my dad tried to drive the Chevy Vega station wagon with his ski boots on.  He deserves big credit for taking the risk to do something new.


We didn't get up to Brighton in time to get a lesson.  I skied anyway.  I remember being completely frustrated trying to untangle the safety straps and click back into the bindings.  Eventually, with lessons, I got to the advanced intermediate level.  My primary sport commitment was very time consuming and didn't allow very much time for skiing.  It is a shame because we lived at the mouth of the Cottonwood canyons and my high school had a ski club that went up on Wednesday afternoons.  Most of my friends had season passes to Alta, Snowbird or Solitude.  My first girlfriend competed in moguls.


I didn't learn to ski well until I moved to Oregon and took a ski class in college in the late 80s.  Then to add to the irony, my wife's aunt was the ticket manager for Snowbird.  Her family were Snow Basin OGs when it opened as a Co-Op.  Her aunt took over as Snowbird ticket manager when it opened.  At least I got free lift tickets to Snowbird when we visited family.

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