Learning to Ski

Well, it was back in 1962 when my folks bought the Echo Motel here in South Lake Tahoe. It was right on Hwy 50, close to the lake and just a short bit from Ski Run Blvd. which led to the Heavenly Valley ski resort. Along with the 22 motel units and pool came an old 4-wheel-drive; a yellow Willys pick-up with "Echo Motel" painted on the doors and with a snow plow mounted on the front. My dad had never plowed snow before but he figured out how do it on his own.

I loved riding along with him as he plowed the parking lot. We would start at the front of the property, lower the plow, and then push the snow all the way back to the end of the parking lot. Then he’d put it in reverse and make another pass. Once we got a good pile going, Dad would put the clutch to the floor right before we got to the snow pile and we would drift into the mound of snow. It would come billowing over the hood and onto the windshield. We would both laugh as he turned on the wipers and backed up to make another run.

Not one to let a perfectly good pile of snow go to waste, I made a ski and sled run out of it. The front side where dad pushed the snow was a steep drop but short and do-able on a snow saucer. Ah, but the backside of the pile was a gradual slope that emptied onto the vacant property next door: my own private ski slope! But to be honest, it wasn't much more than about 35 feet long, give or take a few feet.

Now the only thing I new about skiing was what I saw on TV via the antenna on the roof. At the time we only got 3 or, sometimes, 4 channels on the little black and white. Remember "The Wide World of Sports?" That was the extent of my knowledge of skiing. But after sending my little brother, Eric, down the back side of the pile on his saucer several times (he was my test pilot), I figured it was time to strap on the skis as the little slope was now packed down. I can still see Eric's face... eyes wide, hands gripping the handles of the saucer as I pushed him off the top, twirling round in circles until he came to a stop at the bottom all the while screaming, "Bobby, Bobby!"

Well, now the moment of truth came. I had to ski. I put on the skis with cable bindings, my rubber ski boots, and bamboo ski poles in hand I pushed off. I made it! I didn't know how to stop or turn, but I made it to the bottom of the little slope with out crashing. Hooray! So this went on for several days and I figured out how to turn and come to a stop. I even put a little jump (okay, it was just a little bump) in the run so I could get airborne for a couple of feet.

The next thing I know, my folks are telling me that my aunt and uncle, along with my cousins, are coming up to visit and will stay at the motel during Christmas vacation. I remember being really excited to show my cousin Woody my ski run at the back of the motel and my expertise(?) at skiing. Why, I was so excited I went to bed that night wearing my ski boots, ski pants, and sweater... all underneath the bed covers, anxiously awaiting the next morning so I could get an early start to hit the hill with my cousin Woody. Now, Woody didn't have any ski boots so he strapped on a pair of rubber galoshes over his tennis shoes and we took turns using the skis and poles to make many runs down the little slope. Great fun!

After Christmas vacation was over, my folks signed me up for the "learn to ski" program at Bijou Elementary which was held at Heavenly Valley. A big help! The Austrian, German, or Hungarian instructors were a bit strict but they really taught me how to ski... graceful, rhythmic, and stylish. Skis close together, weight slightly forward, carving big long wide turns. That got me into some ski racing in junior high as well as four years at high school.

Then, I worked at heavenly for four years where I skied and raced a lot. Eventually, I got sick of the scene as skiing had changed. It was now all about shiny ski clothes, really short skis, and a bunch of people calling themselves skiers... but they really weren't. Just a bunch of yahoos who didn't know what they were doing.

So that got me off the chair lifts and in to cross country skiing, snow camping, and ice fishing. For about a dozen years I did both, Alpine(downhill skiing at a resort) as well as Nordic (cross country skiing and mountaineering) but my knees continued to get worse so I had to give it all up.

So, all in all, it was a good ride, or maybe I should say glide, as I glided for many years on the glistening slopes, carving turns through the trees and the wide open runs. And to think it all started on a little pile of snow at the back of the Echo Motel.

Take care,

Bob (aka: Old Long Skis)