Not surprisingly, I was the last guest tester to arrive at breakfast the following morning. When I did, I was presented with a stack of comment cards we would use to rate each ski and briefed on what to expect in the coming minutes. We had four categories of skis to test, a dozen skis in each, and four days to get them all in.
We were confined to the runs in the immediate vicinity of the Sterling Express lift, which not only contributed to an impartial testing environment, but also maximized our time. We were expected to have all of our skis done by lunch. There was, after all, free skiing in the afternoon, an unfamiliar mountain to explore, and chutes to be had.
Testing every ski before lunch meant we would only have one opportunity to get to know each pair. This was an unexpected wrinkle I had not prepared myself for. I was going to have less time to find my ski legs than I originally hoped.
The rookies and I made our way out to a little fenced-off area next to the Sterling Express lift, which was to serve as our ski corral. There, two binding technicians and a dozen skis in the All Mountain Expert (AME) Free category were waiting for us. I grabbed my first set of sticks, Atomic Savage Ti's, if memory serves me correctly, clicked in and made a red-eyed, foggy-headed skate over to the lift line. I passed the Pontiff of Powder on my way.
"How's the altitude flu," he asked?
"I can't tell," I replied. "I'm too hung over."
"How else could you do a thing like this righteously? Want to take a run?"
"Not a chance," I replied. "I need to find my legs first."
I made my way to the loading zone and hopped on a chair. During my ride, I decided the only way to get over this anxiety of not skiing in two years was to tackle the problem head on. I would take my first run down Birdseye; the trail directly under the lift.
When I reached the summit, I skied a little ways down and stopped. I looked over the terrain as far down as I could see, took a deep breath, and pushed off. The first couple hundred feet were all about momentum, then I tried to work into my first turn. I got real tall and stiff, put some pressure on my right ski, and leaned into a left hand turn. My right ski went flailing into the air as I nearly fell on my side. Amazingly, I was able to regain my balance. I peeked up above and could see some of the pros scattered among the dangling chairs. Their eyes were fixated on me, or so I feared, watching my every move. I did what any self-respecting skier would do in this situation; straight-lined the rest of the run and snow plowed into the ski corral.
"How did it feel," Tom asked as I glided in?
"I didn't ski her," I replied.
Tom looked perplexed as I put my head down and skated back to the lift.
When I reached the summit for a second time, I skied to the same spot and looked over the run. I took in two deep breaths and pushed off. As gravity set in, I exaggerated my stance, bent my knees, and made my upper body as big as I could. The side cut swept me away as I leaned into the start of a big, smooth carved GS turn.
"Oh yeah," I thought to myself! "This is how it's supposed to feel!"
I touched my downhill pole to the snow, stood up, and leaned into another; my knees bending and my stance growing wider as I rode the vertical. I linked another big turn and then another until I was hogging the entire run, going end-to-end at speed, as if no one else was on the mountain.
I pulled into the ski corral to see Tom was in the same place as before.
"How did it feel," he asked hesitantly?
"That was fun," I replied!
I clicked out, grabbed another set, and jumped back on the lift. I spent the next three hours skiing laps. With each run my technique became more solid, my confidence grew, and before lunch I felt like I had been skiing all winter.
I hammered though the rest of the category and went inside to join my fellow guest testers to refuel. I was anxious to see how everyone's morning went and to find out how people felt about the category. We all agreed there were obvious dogs and obvious winners. In some cases, you knew whether you were going to enjoy the ride within the first couple of turns.
To be continued...