Hitting The Slopes – Quite Literally – Until One Beginner Skiers Tip
When the PR company I just joined invited me to go on their annual ski trip to Mammoth Mountain, I was both thrilled and a bit apprehensive.
First of all, I had only been on the job a week and they were inviting me on their retreat. That was exciting. But then again, I barely knew any of my co-workers (and bosses) and did not want to do anything that would jeopardize my new position, so I was cautious about in my approach to it.
Plus, I did not know how to ski.
This was the worst part – I did not want to confess I had only been on a slope once before in my life, and that was a tiny run on a beginner’s slope in Gatlinburg, TN. This was Mammoth Mountain in California’s Sierra Nevadas, a place that I quickly learned lived up to its name.
Naturally, I did not want to confess I did not know how to ski and while part of the company bonding experience was skiing together, I made up an excuse that I had to rent equipment and would catch up with them later. Everyone was either expert or advanced intermediate level – and boss man was good friends of Warren Miller, he of the awesome and original ski extreme movies – and I did say I was a “self-taught beginner.”
How’s that for good PR!?
I rented my skis and had been advised the best area for me would be off chair 15, which was not the main lodge. So I headed there and managed to get off the lift with no problem, made a turn and ran smack dab into a steep run.
There’s no way I could negotiate that without killing myself so I tried to go down it gingerly. As anyone who has ever skied will tell you, that doesn’t work. I wound up going about 10 feet in half an hour while still staring at the imposing downhill in front of me.
Finally, I said “this is ridiculous; if you fall it’s only snow” and pointed the skis to the bottom.
I took off in a hurry and had one problem: I did not know how to stop. So I did the next best thing: I intentionally wiped out in order to come to a stop.
Eventually, I kind of got the hang of being on the skis but could not figure out how to turn or stop. So I called upon my years of baseball experience and simply did a slide.
Back at the condo that evening – over many beers; turns out this crew liked to party! – I confessed my lack of ski skills and said I just wish I knew how to stop. That’s when a co-worker’s husband gave me a great tip that I use to this day.
“Just stick out your butt,” he said.
I tried it the next day and by golly it worked like a charm. After a few practice runs, I even joined the group and managed to sort of keep up, tho I had a couple classic wipeouts that I learned in skiing were called “yard sales.”
Since that first experience, I’ve been back to Mammoth many times. As well as to Park City, Whistler, Big Bear, the lively Mont Tremblant in Canada and have also skied the Swiss Alps.
And I always wonder what would have happened if the guy on the first trip had not told me to stick out my butt. I doubt I would have ever been comfortable on skis.
Now I am truly a “self-taught intermediate.”
Cheers!
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