Experiencing the

White Circus

One of the things I love to do in the winter is follow the exploits of the U.S. Ski/Snowboard Team. I find myself constantly going to their website to check results from the previous weekend’s races. Doesn’t matter whether it’s the latest exploits of the traditional Alpine ski racers, the Freestylers, Nordic boys & girls, or even all those young buck Free Skiers and Snowboarders. Obviously, I’m a fanatic when it comes to keeping tabs on the sport, in addition to peripherally involving myself in various aspects of it too.

This past September in the course of a casual conversation with the husband of my cousin, he mentioned that he’s been a volunteer course timer for the Birds of Prey World Cup Downhill races in Beaver Creek, CO. the first weekend of December. The first set of Alpine Ski Races (Speed events) take place every year in North America, and Birds of Prey is considered the kick off speed events for the entire circuit. January through March, most, if not all the races are in Europe so it’s a perpetual set of away competitions if you happen to be one of the kids from this side of the pond. Every race is an away game if you’re a competitive ski racer from the Southern Hemisphere.

Almost immediately I excitedly told him that if a spot on the 2017 volunteer crew opened up, please forward me an application to fill out, send in, and hopefully they’ll grace me with admittance. As some of you well know, I jump on these volunteer bandwagons (Website/Blog Essay posting-11/10/17) about as often as most folks flip through the remote control to find out what’s on the Boob Tube. Being one of the Birds of Prey course prep folks? How cool is that when you’ve transformed yourself into a ski race fanatic who makes diehard NFL fans look like indifferent observers?

When you think about it, volunteering for this thing wasn’t going to be a laidback affair. For one, the races are located halfway across the state so that meant I’d be taking the better part of two days just to drive back and forth to Beaver Creek. There are definite disadvantages to living in such a remote rural area like South West Colorado, and this is one of them.

Next, I’d have to deal with the fact that most on-mountain volunteers were required to do their volunteer shift in Alpine ski gear. I’m still a Telemark skier and all my equipment is of the free heel variety. Slight stylistic problem here.

On the other hand, a lot of the skiing I do these days is basically Alpine style turns anyway. Plus, I like to tell people that I still want to have knees when I’m 75 years old, and wanting this to occur I’m eventually going to switch back over to using Alpine gear full-time. That old saying in skiing circles that when you become a Telemark skier you, “Free the heel, and subsequently you free the mind,” should actually be amended to say, “Free the heel, plant the face.” Crashing while you’re learning to do a proper Telemark turn? Basically, that leaves you carrying half the snow on the mountain with you as a result of all those yard sale type crashes. Using rental Alpine gear? I was looking forward to it, so that problem was solved.

By mid-October I found out I’d been accepted to work on the on-mountain course prep. work crew (Talon Unit). This excited me immeasurably, but as the actual day to drive up to Beaver Creek grew closer and closer, I got somewhat apprehensive. Basically, more nervous than a broker who’s recommended a sizeable purchase of the wrong stock to their client. Insider tips keep telling him the commodity will tank faster than a cowboy singer at a hard-core Rap concert.

I knew the courses for these World Cup speed events has a reputation for being steep, but only had a vague idea just how precipitous. Introductory emails in my cache didn’t dissuade my apprehension either. If anything, they encouraged it. The reminders section of my Talon Crew Application distinctly stating that all on course participants are required to wear helmets and traction devices at all times (crampons preferred). Really? Then that first day when I got switched over to a security crew I fully understood why.

The leader of the Talon unit I was assigned to was apprehensive about my abilities, so he told me they’d take yours truly to the top for a test of my skills that first morning. I didn’t help matters by falling right as we were getting on the initial chairlift that morning. Then when I was going through the test of my skiing abilities, nervousness had my legs shaking like a drug addict going through withdrawal. Probably confirmed his deeply held suspicions that this was indeed one of the few times in the past ten years I’ve attached skis to my feet.

Luckily, he talked to some of the security folks and had me reassigned to them. I felt totally embarrassed. That night I looked over the printed emails in my possession, and realized I should have gone through an orientation day before even getting on the mountain for that first downhill training session. Having not done that, I felt bad about the fact that I probably misled my cousin’s husband about my skiing abilities. I got a late start (didn’t begin skiing till I was 11). My abilities are decent, but after going through this adventure I’m thoroughly convinced that none of these World Cup racers need to go through any sort of sleepless nights worrying about competition from D.G. Swanson.

During a break that first day I walked over to the edge of what’s referred to as “The Brink”, a section of the downhill race course that empties onto a particularly steep section of the mountain. This totally blew me out of the water. An ice encrusted cliff, which gives a whole new meaning to the terms, “being intimidated.”

I’ve come up with a new way to interrogate terrorists. All these Inquisition Officials need to do is deposit their prisoners to the top of a particularly steep section of a ski race course (wearing a swim suit no less) and the prisoner is pushed off the edge. Think about it, the effectiveness of this interrogation procedure makes Waterboarding look like a casual visit to the Water Park.

During the four days that I was doing my Birds of Prey thing, the people who shared a condo. with me were a great bunch. Besides the leader of that Talon crew I ended up not being a part of; my cousin’s husband was there, as well as three older ladies, another one of the Talon guys, and the son and daughter of one of the ladies checking things out for the first two days of races.

Being an interloper of this sweet little set-up they had, I immediately volunteered to roll out the sleeping bag and take up residence on one of the couches. When my in-law asked me if I didn’t mind this inconvenience, I told him that being a former U.S. Peace Corps volunteer makes you a very adaptable person. Casually noting that a successful PCV stint is basically a triumphant two-year camping trip.

All of us got along swimmingly, and my only complaint about the housing accommodations situation was the fact that some of us (including the rookie) had to get up before the butt crack of dawn in order to catch a shuttle to report for duty early every morning. This inconvenience was only for four days, so I didn’t have a problem dealing with it. It definitely has its advantages. You ever ridden a chairlift as the sun is rising over the peaks? I have, and it’s well worth all the effort.

Safety detail each day was a different experience. Due in large part to the fact that I kept asking to be assigned to a different location all the time. One day I’d find myself working at the top of the downhill race course, the next I’d be doing security near the start of the Super G race course. The last day I found myself working the finish area before quitting early to make the long cruise back home. All this shuffling around from one spot to another made for all sorts of unique situations one could potentially use as fodder for future stories. Best of all, meeting, and getting to know a lot of great fellow volunteers, and observing the athletes from different countries in action.

Hard not to be impressed with these competitors. All of them have this intense, focused look of determination that clearly gives them a man-on-a-mission appearance. Particularly the guys from countries that you know have a chance of doing well. The usual top notch Alpine Ski Racing suspects; guys from Germany, Switzerland, Austria, the Scandinavian countries, the French and Italians, the U.S. and Canadian skiers.

That brings up another subject; I found myself watching the competitors get ready for their races and rooting for the little guys. Contestants from countries that don’t allocate more money than their GDP to their national team. The Slovenians, Croatian, this competitor from Denmark (where does that guy train?) the U.K. You can always tell these guys since they were the ones skiing by my security check point wearing old style warm up gear (80’s fashion) and without the most technologically advanced racing equipment. Obviously indicates that budgets for them are tight, and the chances of one of these guys landing on the podium are analogous to a competitor from Kazakhstan winning the World Surfing title. Then again, hope springs eternal, right?

When all was said and done, I ended up having to blow out town early Sunday afternoon in order to beat a predicted snow storm that never materialized (damn, Colorado could sure use the moisture). The experience was a good one, and I’m hoping I can get on the BOP race crew for next year’s edition. Hopefully a course prep. crew in order to make up for not doing it this year (due entirely to my apprehensiveness). Obviously, these World Cup ski races are quite a bit more work to successfully pull off, (with a huge number of logistical details) than the casual observer realizes. Like the best things in life actually.