The difference between a rational expectation of an ordered world and blind faith that the world is ordered is a very fine one.
Every few seconds I was swinging between the two.
It was at Vail, America’s largest and arguably best skiing resort. And I was not skiing. There were other things to do than the standard day of skiing. For a start it was night.
Imagine an ordinary bicycle. Imagine someone taking off the pedals and throwing them away and then replacing each wheel with a short ski. And there you have a ski-bike. The rider wears ski boots each with a 30cm ski attached and uses them and the bicycle handlebar to steer. There are no brakes. Let me repeat that. There are no brakes.
Instead the rider negotiates down the ski-slopes like a skier, using turns to slow down and to prevent catastrophic crashes into the firs and aspen forests.
I haven’t finished yet. You do this ski-biking at night, armed with a miner’s lamp. There are no lights illuminating the slopes.
I and a couple of others were being led down the slope by Tatayana – a young woman from Slovakia. Her surname spelt out like letters leftover from a game of Scrabble.
By now I had got to know American ski slopes. The green and blue runs (beginner and intermediate) down which these ski-bikes go are groomed immaculately. Unlike Australian ski-fields where the cover is usually not deep and rocks stick up in inconvenient places, these slopes have no hazards.
I thought of Franklin Roosevelt – there was only one thing to fear, and that was fear itself. It was an ordered world. I knew there would be no hazards and that I could zig and zag down the slope to avoid picking up fatal speed.
Bear in mind I only have a miner’s lamp, creating a moveable circle of grey-white a short distance ahead while all around was black. Moreover, this is not some pseudo-scary roller-coaster or side-show ride which has been pre-determined and controlled by steel and engineers into whose hands one’s fate can be confidently consigned knowing there will be thrills without spills. No; on a ski-bike you are on your own.
It was terrifically exhilarating. The temperature was about minus 10 (centigrade), but the exercise of turning made it warm work. The run – like all runs at Vail – was immeasurably long ( all right, I’ll give you the measurements. The maximum vertical drop at Vail is from 3527m at the top of Blue Sky Basin to 2475m or 1052m with the longest ski run of 7.2kms. The snow-bike run was about 4km and took about 15 minutes. So at times you get up to 30km/h, which is very fast that close to the ground, steering with your feet.)
The reason they do it at night, is that ski-bikes would not mix with skiers or snow-boarders. The snow-bikes need a wide-berth.
On the last bit of the run, Tatayana advised us to point straight down the hill and not slow down by turning, otherwise you run out of momentum on the flat and have to walk.
And then it was into the gondola and back up the hill.
“”This time we’ll go through the trees,” Tatayana said nonchalantly.
At that stage two of our party opted out of the second run. The fir forest drew us silently in. Just the shaking miner’s lamp revealing huge brown trunks and the dinted snow.
That was a case of blind faith.
The next day it was from the ridiculous to the sublime — snow-shoeing at nearby Beaver Creek. At Beaver Creek they maintain 33kms of snow-shoeing trails at McCoy Park at the back of the resort which lead you to some splendid views of the Rockies where you can absorb the silence of the snow. Anyone who can walk can snow-shoe. Modern snow-shoes – with aluminium and light fabric — make the going easier but traditionalists prefer wooden shoes with natural webbing. Indians have used snow-shoes for thousands of years, each tribe have its own distinctive pattern. The more off-trail you go the bigger the shoe you need, particularly if it has just dumped powder snow. Next to trees, you can sink in to your waist on the smaller shoes.
The quality and quantity of snow, the sheer expanse of snow country in the Rockies and the constant below-freezing temperatures allow for a great range of activities: outdoor ice-skating (on a beautifully groomed rink at Beaver Creek), snow-mobiling and dog sledding, for example.
I used to think that snow-mobiles were offensive, noisy, polluting, peace-shattering, unnecessary machines. Until I got one myself. I suppose the attraction in the US is that they are going over what would be ordinary roads and tracks in summer, so it is no worse than going in a car. So it was through the spruce, fir and pine forest, 20kms up beyond the tree line to the continental divide at Georgia Pass (3800m) in the Arapahoe National Forest. The snow under my left foot would melt and go east to the Mississippi and the snow under my right foot would melt and go west, eventually into the Colorado River and the west coast. You could see 300 kms to the east. And you would have grave difficulty getting to this spot without the snow-mobile.
And yes, you can still ski. Indeed, some people think that March and April are the best months for skiing in the US. The snow has built up all winter. The weather is a bit warmer (but still below freeze). You still get dumps of powder snow. The days are longer and the crowds and dropped off. But more of the skiing on a travel page during our season when the interest is higher.
Crispin Hull was a guest of Air New Zealand, Vail Resorts and Good Times Adventures (www.vailresorts.com and www.SnowmobileColorado.com.