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"It's all downhill" - column that appeared in Minnesota Score Magazine.

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1992, I left for Lillehammer, Norway, to witness the 1992 Olympics. The idea started with a buddy of mine who was stationed in Kuwait. He purchased the events tickets, the hotel room, the train tickets and the plane tickets from a satellite phone in the desert. My job was to show up with as much booze as duty free would allow.
The bizarre events that unfolded on an hourly basis that week were mind boggling. I partied hard with a mime (while he was dressed as a mime). I sat half-naked, painted and drunk next to Nancy Kerrigan. I drank Aquavit from wineskins locals passed to me every morning on the train to Lillehammer
starting at 6 am. It goes on and on, but this is a column about skiing, so you?ll have to wait for the book.
That was the first year the moguls event in freestyle skiing was a medal sport. The aerials were still a demonstration sport, and we had never seen or heard of them. But we had four tickets and a couple hours to kill. On the way into the venue, people were selling little square Styrofoam mats for like a billion kroners, which is about five bucks. We asked what they were for. ?You stand on them so your feet don?t get cold.? Right, I?m paying five bucks to stand on your carpet sample. I?m from Minnesota, Olav. I think I can handle
it. We stood outside a rope at the base of the hill with a couple of thousand other people, all of whom were standing on little squares of Styrofoam on the snow. Except us. We had no idea what to expect, nor could we understand the P.A. guy.
Then, with no warning, we looked up and saw a man with skis on, about a hundred yards above us, in the air, twisting and flipping like Patrick Duffy swimming in ?The Man from Atlantis.? It was beautiful, like mid-air ballet. He performed with a bright blue-sky backdrop, the sunglow illuminating him like a ski prophet coming to tell us the truth. ?I will write about this,? I thought. ?There will be a ski bible, and my book will be called ?The Book of Webby.??
He began his descent down toward the 90-degree-angle cement, cleverly disguised as snow. His skies touched, and he exploded. Just when you thought it couldn?t get any better, his head snapped and hit the hill. The yard sale was spectacular; skis and poles and clothing were everywhere. He must have rolled nine times before coming to a stop at the fence, laid out like Charlie Brown after a comeback pitch. My friend Jamie uttered the words that encapsulated the moment perfectly. ?Right on.?
We spent the whole afternoon watching this: extraordinary feats of mid-air gymnastics followed by the greatest wipeouts ever. I couldn?t believe this was a sport. About six times an ambulance had to come on and take away a competitor. These men were killing themselves for my amusement. God bless
them. Only a handful actually landed on their skis, and I believe we booed them.
We had no idea that day how popular the sport of freestyle skiing would become. As I was remembering my trip to Lillehammer I wondered if Minnesota might have become some kind of hotbed for freestyle skiing, considering you
don?t really need a mountain and we have a lack them.
So I contacted Craig Weiler, a 20 year old freestyle skier from Hudson WI. This winter he will be working Park Crew Services for Wild Mountain in Taylors Falls Minnesota. His job will be the grooming and upkeep of Wild?s new state
of the art Terrain Park. That and according to Craig, ?keeping little kids in line.?
First, a clarification of what Freestyle skiing is. In all forms of ski competitions, you are required to accomplish a set of compulsory moves and then based on subjective judging and sometimes time, you either win or lose.
The origins of freestyle skiing are based on the loose idea of ?I bet you Can?t do this.? It really never was intended to be turned into a sport, or a competition or an event. It was intended to be an activity by which REALLY good skiers and snowboarders would pass the day away impressing their friends or hurting themselves. Most freestyle skiers have a mogul background, and grew tired of banging their knees of there chin, working there legs like pistons over the moguls, and instead found great thrill in catching big air, making moves in mid-air, hopefuly landing, and then continuing on.
?At first it was experimentation? says Weiler, ?but now it?s an artfrom. Making it look as effortless as possible. Being creative as possible. Being different than someone else. Basically most people think were just hucking our meat but we are trying to make it look effortless and smooth.?
Hucking your meat by the way is not what Sam the butcher on the Brady Bunch does for a living. It?s ski slang for throwing your body over a cliff or a jump without fear.
?A lot of us saw Johnny Mosely in the 1998 olympics when he pulled the 360 Mute grab during his mogul run? said Weiler, ?after that we were all trying to do it.? Wieler is quick to point out however that Mosely didn?t invent freestyle, he merely was on national T.V.
You would think that freestyle skiing and snowboarding, one of the most popular activites with the 25 and younger demograghic in the country, a sport that?s only requirement is oddly shaped objects covered in snow or ice, would
flourish in a state without any mountains and lot?s of cold and snow. You would think. But it really hasn?t been taking off, and it?s not because of lack of demand. Most ski areas in Minnesota have terrain parks. But they are generally nothing more than a series of poorly built jumps out of piles of hardpacked snow. In fact, freestyle skiing is discouraged because of the danger to the freestyle skier/snowboarder and to others. Not to mention insurance costs and other headaches that come with it. But the freestylers are out there, and they want big air.
?They (the ski hill operators) may think it?s trendy? said Weiler ?but ironically there inaction may cause the youth to lose interest because of lack of good terrain parks and a lack of ability to participate.?
Seems like a no-brainer gold mine to me. It did to Wild Mountain as well. This year they have opened their brand-new terrain park, complete with a very well built and maintained half pipe. Some, like Weiler, claim it to be the best terrain park in the state. ?Wild has fed more into an expert type terrain park for skiers. No one is stepping up more than Wild Mountain to try to expand the sport.?
So even though freestyle skiing was born out of the idea that it was a competition for the competitors by the competitors, without any judges or trophies, it has become just that. Big business and big air means big bucks. Weiler will be wearing the logos of Smith eyewear, DaKine and skiershop.com
when he heads up to Spirit Mountain in Duluth this February for the MS03 competition. Weiler took second at MS02 in big air.
But even though the original intent of freestyle seems a little blurry, it Doesn?t seem to bother Weiler. ?We do it because the courses are set up so well and there?s an opportunity to ski a well manfucatured course and meet a
lot of people. But it?s still more fun to go out with your buddies and a camera and make ski videos.?
Meanwhile back in 1992 in Lillehammer, our feet were freezing. I would gladly have paid 3 billion Kroners for a Styrofoam square at that point, but Olav was gone, turning profits into Aquavit. Plus, fate had a certain mime it wanted me to meet.

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Twin Cities Weekend Ski Report
Friday, March 1, 2002
Eric Webster
KFAN.com Ski Analyst
Dick Barrymore was a filmmaker from the 60's. Dick made ski movies. Dick never gained any significant level of recognition for his movies other than people wondering if he was related to the famous Barrymores of film. Dick would respond, "I am the famous Barrymore of film."
One of Dick's movies, called "Last of the Ski Bums," featured music by a group called The Sandals. On the album cover for this soundtrack, the band is in a VW bus. If you ski, you can stare at the album cover for a long time. There it is: the life you pause and wonder about. A VW bus, friends, a band writing songs about skiing and a guy making ski movies about you.
And then it hits you.
I should move to a mountain and become a ski instructor.
For most skiers, that moment happens about once a year, and for most of us it only lasts a few minutes before we realize that we're kind of like Marshal, Will and Holly. We would go, but we just can't put the crystals in the right order.
This past weekend I began training as a ski instructor at Wild Mountain here in Taylor's Falls, Minn. While I was there I met a real-life ski bum, and I learned some of the ski bum crystals' requisite patterns. (I'm now done torturing you with "Land of the Lost" metaphors.)
I spent the day on the slopes with self-proclaimed ski bum, Ski Instructor-instructor Kristin Ulstad. I re-learned how to walk in boots, grab a towrope, and ski without poles. Afterward, I sat down with her and learned her story.
Kristin is 26 years old. She was raised by ski bums who ran the ski school at Hoigard's. Soon after Kristin graduated from Carleton College, her father died. She decided to live out both of their dreams and move to Colorado. She says she picked Telluride because, "I heard they had a bluegrass festival, so there must be good people there." It really is hard to argue with that logic. She went through three days of training with many other hopefuls, and then the cuts were posted on the door of a local drinking establishment. The rules were simple: If your name was on the door, come on in and celebrate. If not, please don't come in and wreck our buzz.
Kirsten was invited in to imbibe. She does not consider herself a great skier. In fact, she said she's improved greatly in just the last two years. But teaching skiing isn't about being a great skier, says Kristin, it's more about "your ability to teach and learn quickly and being able to communicate with kids."
The difference between teaching kids and adults is a personal choice. Some people are better with adults, and some are better with kids. The pay is generally the same but, according to Kristin, "Adults are more sensitive and critical." Not critical of themselves mind you, of the instructor.
Speaking of pay, the average ranges from about $6 to $11 an hour, and people do tip. Some say adults tip best, some say adults whose kids you taught tip better. You also can pick up extra money if you have special skills. For example, if you're bilingual, you're generally paid a quarter more per language you know. Kristin observed that it also it helps if you're Australian. "Why?" I asked. "I don't know," she told me "People love Australians." Yes, right. Don't we all? Anyway, it's also worth noting that even the most qualified, high-level instructors never become rich living out this ski bum dream. Forty thousand a year is the high end, and that's for a very lucky few.
Kristin moved back to Minnesota last year to get her nursing degree at the U of M. Then what? "Back to Telluride to teach skiing and be a nurse."
I think I saw that movie. "The Telluride Nurse Carnival."
Since most hills offer their own ski instructor training courses, possibly the simplest way to live the ski bum dream is to pick your mountain and go. FYI, returning instructors have priority when selecting each year's instruction teams.
This is not the only way to become a ski instructor ski bum. You can also start by earning certification through the Professional Ski Instructors Association. The PSIA requires about ten weeks of clinics, after which you must pass a written and performance-based ski certification test given by a PSIA official. This costs about $200, plus your lift tickets. There are three levels of PSIA certification. It costs $200 to test for each level.
Other testing facts:
It takes two days.
If you don??t pass, you start over and pay over.
You must purchase PSIA manuals, which can run anywhere from 25 to 50 bucks.
You have to retest (and therefore repay) about every two years.
Your pay can increase just a few dollars an hour with PSIA certification.
PSIA certification will make you a more attractive candidate to the hills to which you apply, but some hills will still require you to go through their training program.
PSIA charges annual membership dues.
You can probably get some kind of really cool jacket, but I'm not sure whether or not you have to pay for it.
My advice? Become a ski instructor at one of our local hills. Instructors are in demand, and you don't have to pack up and move. You don't have to quit your job, you can easily learn how to teach the curriculum of the hill, and you can pretend you're a ski bum a couple days a week.
Still thinking about doing it full time? Keep these facts in mind:
Only about six percent of the 260 million people in the United States ski, and of those, only about 10 percent take instruction.
Competition for ski instructor jobs is increasing as nationwide, more people are working in or towards jobs that marry their passions with work.
Pay can be low, housing can be difficult to find, and the job itself can be boring and stressful as you contend with difficult students.
Of course the cheapest and most simple way to live the life a ski bum is to stare endlessly at the Sandals album cover with a six pack. FYI, If you substitute the album cover from Houses Of The Holy, Led Zeppelin, It's also the cheapest and simplest way to become a naked little girl rock climber.

   

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