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Rites of Ski Passage
"My life is better than your vacation."
- disabled ski racer Sam Ferguson
Same crap, different day. And nothing makes me happier.
I have to say, my winters are somewhat repetitive. Once or twice - and if possible, three or four times - each week
from December to April, I do the same damn thing: Head up to our little local ski area, and turn until my thighs
burn.
And by the end of the day, I'm a sore, tired, wet, sweaty - but also a grinning and joyful - fool. And I can't wait
to do it again.
Through sun and snow - in fact, the more foul the weather the better, in my simple way of thinking - I'm up there, getting the most I can out of my season ski pass. Over the course of a winter and spring, I do endeavor to get some variety in my ski season - I hit Taos or Crested Butte or Monarch or Wolf Creek, and I get into the grand and varied San Juan Mountain backcountry as much as I can. But, in general - and again in that simple-minded ski-bum way my mind works - I'm quite content with spending most of my ski days at good old nearby Purgatory.
In fact, my wife and I have made this ski-pass-at-Purgatory thing something of a family policy. Ever since our kids
were old enough to slide a "pizza slice" turn down the bunny slope, we've invested a good chunk of our meager
available disposable income in season passes for each of us. It's no small bite out of our annual family budget, but
with those passes dangling off our powder pants, that is what we do for four or five months. We ski.
And even though Purgatory may not be the greatest or grandest ski area in the Rockies, and even through the dry
snow-sparse years we endured earlier in this Y2K century, I believe it has been the greatest investment we could've
made in our kids' educations.
Here's what I think skiing, a lot, up the same old lifts and down the same dang runs, frequently, regularly, year
after year has bestowed upon my children:
- Health and fitness. This is probably the easiest and most obvious of observations, but skiing is work. It's a hard, demanding, invigorating and exhausting work out. And I want my kids to not be afraid to work hard, and to like being in shape.
- Skill. Being good at anything brings confidence. And I believe that the meta-skill of learning how to learn a skill - best learned by actually acquiring, pursuing, and perfecting a skill over a long period of time - is the most valuable skill of all.
- Risk. Uh, yup. Let's face it, it's part of skiing. It's dangerous. Early in the kids' skiing careers, it was just dodging flailing, wobbling tourists and hormone-whacked out-of-control teens on zinging snowboards. Then, as they grew independent, it was taking off on their own to navigate the mountain. Now that they're hormone-driven, but highly skilled, teens themselves, it's tree skiing and free-style moves. And - new this year, as we enter the mid-teen years - it's driving to and from the area. It's always something. But risk and danger are a part of life - especially teen life - so I'd rather have my kids exploring those boundaries in the mountains, with friends, doing something physical and exciting. With a helmet on.
- Being outdoors. Enough said.
- Beyond just being outdoors, though, is being outdoors somewhere in particular. A lot. Over and over. This creates a sense of "place" and connection with landscape that is sorely and sadly lacking in kids today. When you visit a place over and over, you grow familiar with the landscape, both in the foreground and in the distance. And over time, those landmarks accrue stories, memories, meaning. From Purgatory, we can see valleys where we fish, places we camp, peaks we've climbed, routes we've backpacked. And on the area itself, there are powder stashes we know, tree runs we've discovered, fine lines we've found and shared. And once you connect with places, and map those places on a grander landscape of home, you claim a form of personal connection, of ownership. And when that happens, we begin to care about - and then care for - those places.
- Quiet time. Skiing is about more than going downhill. Going uphill is also valuable. Chair lift rides are time when you have nothing to do but talk with friends or strangers. Or just sit quietly alone, to take in the landscape, the time, the moment. To think. Or to not think.
- Lastly, but perhaps most importantly, is community. Enjoying and being good at something amidst a group that values and is good at that same thing brings membership, companionship, camaraderie, and community. Our kids have found that here. As we have found a life-long group of ski-bum friends who have chosen to live in the same place doing the same things for the same reasons listed above, so , too, our kids have been raised among a tribe of kids doing the same things in the same places, learning and growing and adventuring together. And beyond this particular group of friends, add this ability to bond with others as another skill learned whilst skiing.
So that's why my wife and I - a couple of ski bums who never got over that skiing life - chose to bring our kids up in that same world that brought us together. Because it's not just a ski pass - it's a passage.
Ken Wright's most recent book is The Monkey Wrench Dad (Raven's Eye Press). Learn more at monkeywrenchdad.com.
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