Riding smooth
Posted by Zach Johns on Thursday, February 28, 2013 Under: Down Hill Skiing
It’s funny how things just work out sometimes.
Back at the beginning of the high school ski racing season, our coach gave us a calendar listing of all the races. As a devoted parent, I used that calendar to plan my floating days off so I could watch my son race and help-out when needed. It worked fine until a week before sectionals when I received an email stating that the calendar was wrong and the race was actually the day before it was listed.
Well, my job requires me to put day off requests in ahead of time and although I tried, that new day off never cleared. I then discovered a rule I didn’t know about: I had to give a 48 hour notice to CANCEL a day off!
Suddenly, there I was with a day off that I didn’t NEED, but in actuality was better anyway. Instead of standing on the side of the hill gate-keeping for the Section 7 participants, I got to actually SKI on my day off! And the best part was, when I got to the Ridge on that Wednesday morning, Smooth Rider was there, too!
“Smooth Rider.” It’s a name given by “Smiley,” (whose name was given by Smooth Rider - nobody at Giants Ridge skis under their real name). His actual name is Robert … uh … Hamilton or something - not that it matters - he is really Smooth Rider. He was bestowed that title because his skiing style is just impossibly smooth - I mean, if they had a skiing video game where the character always stayed in perfect form and could link five million turns without a break - that’s him. Smooth. He’s an amazing skier.
And retired.
I first met Smooth Rider during the winter of 1997-98. It took a while. I spent half the season skiing by myself and wondering who that crazy old dude was who I saw on the hill every day. From the chairlift I would watch him link turns through the steep, tight tree lines and launch off the jumps with huge spread eagles.
One day we ended up at the bottom of the lift at the same time and one of us must have asked the other if they minded company. I don’t remember exactly, but I imagine we just started talking about skiing and from then on we were ski buddies. Me, in my early 20s, right out of college and in the prime of my skiing abilities. He, in his mid-50s, just into retirement and in the prime of his skiing abilities.
We had fun. Lots of fun.
Through the years we’ve had many memorable moments. Once, we built a snowman and put it on a chair and took turns riding up with it all day. Another time, we crashed a photo shoot by FAST snowmobiles by jumping over a sled positioned on top of the hill. (We did it for fun but then the snowmobile people asked us to do it again so they could get pictures). We even mocked the ski patrol my making a dummy in a ski patrol uniform and tying it in the woods to make it look like it had crashed into a tree!
Yeah, we were kind of renegades.
But despite all the horsing around, we were, first and foremost, skiers. We skied hard - every day. No matter if it was -20 or +50, dumping snow or thunderstorms, sunny or windy, we skied. We pounded moguls, launched in the terrain park and searched for powder in the woods. Skiing was life.
In those early years (before kids) I did a lot of traveling and Smooth Rider did too. I would come back from Whistler and find out that he had just returned from Montana. He would head to the Sierra Nevada and I would go to the Wasatch. One January we were riding up the lift at the Ridge and I told him of the trip I was about to embark on - a few days at Bridger Bowl, down to Big Sky, then Jackson Hole and Grand Targhee on the way back to Bozeman.
“I’ve always wanted to ski Jackson,” he said.
“Well heck, come on out! We’ll be staying at the hostel at the bottom of the hill,” I exclaimed, seriously wanting him to come but knowing he wouldn’t.
“I just might…”
A week later my friends and I pulled into the parking lot of Jackson Hole’s Hostel X and there was Smooth Rider’s pickup parked just like I had seen it countless mornings at the base of Giants Ridge. The old man had actually driven out there! We went downstairs to the big common room and there we was, relaxing on a couch, watching a ski movie.
“I can’t believe you actually came!” I yelled.
“Well, I told you I was...”
For some reason we never got his room number before we turned in for the night and the next morning we looked all over for him as we got in the tram line. But Jackson Hole is one of the biggest ski areas on the continent and the chance of finding him was slim to none.
We rode the tram to the top of the mountain, clicked into our skis and made our way down the immense Rendezvous Bowl. Then we raced down a groomer until we came to the Hobacks, some of the wildest inbounds terrain in the country. Just as we were about to begin our run, a lone figure came out of the trees. It was him! How in the world did we find each other on our first run?! Our best guess was that our skiing styles were so in-synch that we naturally choose the same runs!
He joined our group and we spent the rest of the day ripping some of the greatest ski terrain in the country. At about three o’clock he announced he had to get going as he wanted to make it to Bozeman before the next storm hit.
The next day he enjoyed a full-on Bridger Bowl powder day. My buddies and I skied the scraps two days later.
It was memories like these that Smooth Rider and I laughed about during that unexpected day off two weeks ago. He told me that he usually heads home at about eleven these days, but since I was there he stayed until one. He showed me some of the new lines he cut over the summer, hiking up and clearing the brush and repositioning rocks so we would have new lines to ski. I skied hard that day. Probably the hardest ski day I’ve had all season.
On one of the final rides up, we laughed reminiscing about at trip we took to Whitecap, Wisconsin - a nice little ski area on the Michigan border. When we bought our lift tickets they told us that if we wanted to ski the black diamond runs we would have to take a test with the ski school.
This was five days after we had returned from Jackson Hole, well-known as having some of the toughest terrain in the country. We showed them our lift tickets. Wouldn’t THAT qualify us? Nope, if you wanted to ski the blacks at Whitecap, we had to be tested.
At the end of the day they gave us cards showing that we were indeed “black diamond certified,” in case we returned. Laughing, Smooth Rider announced, “I still have mine, see!”
He folded over the plastic armband that held his Giants Ridge season pass. There it was: Whitecap, Wisconsin. Black Diamond Certified.
“Boy, those were good times, weren’t they?” he sighed.
Yes, they were. But that was a good day as well.
It’s funny how things just work out sometimes.
Back at the beginning of the high school ski racing season, our coach gave us a calendar listing of all the races. As a devoted parent, I used that calendar to plan my floating days off so I could watch my son race and help-out when needed. It worked fine until a week before sectionals when I received an email stating that the calendar was wrong and the race was actually the day before it was listed.
Well, my job requires me to put day off requests in ahead of time and although I tried, that new day off never cleared. I then discovered a rule I didn’t know about: I had to give a 48 hour notice to CANCEL a day off!
Suddenly, there I was with a day off that I didn’t NEED, but in actuality was better anyway. Instead of standing on the side of the hill gate-keeping for the Section 7 participants, I got to actually SKI on my day off! And the best part was, when I got to the Ridge on that Wednesday morning, Smooth Rider was there, too!
“Smooth Rider.” It’s a name given by “Smiley,” (whose name was given by Smooth Rider - nobody at Giants Ridge skis under their real name). His actual name is Robert … uh … Hamilton or something - not that it matters - he is really Smooth Rider. He was bestowed that title because his skiing style is just impossibly smooth - I mean, if they had a skiing video game where the character always stayed in perfect form and could link five million turns without a break - that’s him. Smooth. He’s an amazing skier.
I first met Smooth Rider during the winter of 1997-98. It took a while. I spent half the season skiing by myself and wondering who that crazy old dude was who I saw on the hill every day. From the chairlift I would watch him link turns through the steep, tight tree lines and launch off the jumps with huge spread eagles.
One day we ended up at the bottom of the lift at the same time and one of us must have asked the other if they minded company. I don’t remember exactly, but I imagine we just started talking about skiing and from then on we were ski buddies. Me, in my early 20s, right out of college and in the prime of my skiing abilities. He, in his mid-50s, just into retirement and in the prime of his skiing abilities.
We had fun. Lots of fun.
Through the years we’ve had many memorable moments. Once, we built a snowman and put it on a chair and took turns riding up with it all day. Another time, we crashed a photo shoot by FAST snowmobiles by jumping over a sled positioned on top of the hill. (We did it for fun but then the snowmobile people asked us to do it again so they could get pictures). We even mocked the ski patrol my making a dummy in a ski patrol uniform and tying it in the woods to make it look like it had crashed into a tree!
Yeah, we were kind of renegades.
But despite all the horsing around, we were, first and foremost, skiers. We skied hard - every day. No matter if it was -20 or +50, dumping snow or thunderstorms, sunny or windy, we skied. We pounded moguls, launched in the terrain park and searched for powder in the woods. Skiing was life.
In those early years (before kids) I did a lot of traveling and Smooth Rider did too. I would come back from Whistler and find out that he had just returned from Montana. He would head to the Sierra Nevada and I would go to the Wasatch. One January we were riding up the lift at the Ridge and I told him of the trip I was about to embark on - a few days at Bridger Bowl, down to Big Sky, then Jackson Hole and Grand Targhee on the way back to Bozeman.
“I’ve always wanted to ski Jackson,” he said.
“Well heck, come on out! We’ll be staying at the hostel at the bottom of the hill,” I exclaimed, seriously wanting him to come but knowing he wouldn’t.
“I just might…”
A week later my friends and I pulled into the parking lot of Jackson Hole’s Hostel X and there was Smooth Rider’s pickup parked just like I had seen it countless mornings at the base of Giants Ridge. The old man had actually driven out there! We went downstairs to the big common room and there we was, relaxing on a couch, watching a ski movie.
“I can’t believe you actually came!” I yelled.
“Well, I told you I was...”
For some reason we never got his room number before we turned in for the night and the next morning we looked all over for him as we got in the tram line. But Jackson Hole is one of the biggest ski areas on the continent and the chance of finding him was slim to none.
We rode the tram to the top of the mountain, clicked into our skis and made our way down the immense Rendezvous Bowl. Then we raced down a groomer until we came to the Hobacks, some of the wildest inbounds terrain in the country. Just as we were about to begin our run, a lone figure came out of the trees. It was him! How in the world did we find each other on our first run?! Our best guess was that our skiing styles were so in-synch that we naturally choose the same runs!
He joined our group and we spent the rest of the day ripping some of the greatest ski terrain in the country. At about three o’clock he announced he had to get going as he wanted to make it to Bozeman before the next storm hit.
The next day he enjoyed a full-on Bridger Bowl powder day. My buddies and I skied the scraps two days later.
It was memories like these that Smooth Rider and I laughed about during that unexpected day off two weeks ago. He told me that he usually heads home at about eleven these days, but since I was there he stayed until one. He showed me some of the new lines he cut over the summer, hiking up and clearing the brush and repositioning rocks so we would have new lines to ski. I skied hard that day. Probably the hardest ski day I’ve had all season.
On one of the final rides up, we laughed reminiscing about at trip we took to Whitecap, Wisconsin - a nice little ski area on the Michigan border. When we bought our lift tickets they told us that if we wanted to ski the black diamond runs we would have to take a test with the ski school.
This was five days after we had returned from Jackson Hole, well-known as having some of the toughest terrain in the country. We showed them our lift tickets. Wouldn’t THAT qualify us? Nope, if you wanted to ski the blacks at Whitecap, we had to be tested.
At the end of the day they gave us cards showing that we were indeed “black diamond certified,” in case we returned. Laughing, Smooth Rider announced, “I still have mine, see!”
He folded over the plastic armband that held his Giants Ridge season pass. There it was: Whitecap, Wisconsin. Black Diamond Certified.
“Boy, those were good times, weren’t they?” he sighed.
Yes, they were. But that was a good day as well.
It’s funny how things just work out sometimes.
In : Down Hill Skiing
Tags: ski skiing "giants ridge" biwabik downhill chalet minnesota north northern
Zach Johns is an alpine skier, backpacker, paddler and all-around nature lover who lives on Minnesota‘s Iron Range. Originally from Osceola, Wis., Johns attended the University of Minnesota-Duluth so he could ski every day and be close to the trails of his beloved North Shore. There, he earned a degree in Communication and was editor of the student newspaper. However, the real education he gained at UMD was in honing his outdoor skills. He took courses in subjects such as backpacking, winter camping, rock climbing and canoe tripping. By the time he graduated, that was all he wanted to do. In January of 1997, he moved to the Range where he met a group of die-hard skiers dedicated to making turns at Giants Ridge every single day of the winter (when they weren’t out skiing the big mountains of the west.) Throughout the late nineties he built a very impressive ski resume, taking several trips to Utah, Montana, Wyoming, California, British Columbia and Alaska. During the off-season, he took to the hiking trails. In 1997, he hiked the entire Superior Hiking Trail during the single season (what had been completed until that time) and in following years, took trips to Yosemite, Glacier and the Grand Canyon. He also made two attempts to climb King’s Peak, the highest mountain in Utah, but failed to summit both times. In 1999, he attempted the infamous 43-mile Kekekabic Trail through the heart of the BWCA and limped out after only ten miles with a hernia. He did finally complete the Kek in 2005, during one of the hottest weeks on record. Besides hiking, he also continued dabbling with paddling, making several canoe trips to the BWCA and became an enthusiastic (yet very novice) whitewater kayaker. He is now a father of two sons, Nick and Jackson, who accompany their father on nearly all his adventures. Both were skiing fairly soon after they could stand and from 2006-2011, the three hiked in every state park in Minnesota, 195 miles of hiking in 65 parks. Since becoming a dad, Johns has suddenly realized that you can’t just be out there skiing, hiking, paddling, etc. without also working to protect the very things you love. With that in mind, he founded an adventure club at work to get co-workers outside who might not otherwise be inspired to go. The club has gone on hiking, paddling, winter camping and cycling trips and annually go on a trash pick-up hike to celebrate Earth Day. He believes that once you get people out into beautiful wild places, the more likely they will be to protect them. He has also done a lot of volunteer work for the Superior Hiking Trail Association including adopting a backcountry campsite which he and the boys maintain twice a year. It is of extreme importance, he believes, to introduce children to the outdoors early. Not only is it good for them, but they will be the ones protecting these places once we are gone. Future plans? There are a few local goals to check-off including hiking the Border Route Trail in the BWCA and Isle Royale. Mostly, it’s just to take the boys hiking and camping in more of our national parks, skiing the big western mountains, and more of their usual seasonal cycle: Giants Ridge in the winter, Superior’s North Shore in the spring, South Shore in the summer and back to the North Shore in the fall.
