Back to the Slopes After 13 Years (Published 1979) (2024)

AFTER trying skiing one season and then staying off the slopes for 13 years, my wife, Marge, and I resumed the sport last winter. In the interim, two children were added our family, and the questions were many. Could man in his mid‐40's and a woman in her early 30's make skiing progress after such a long layoff? Would we be bewildered by new equipment and new teaching methods? And could we afford to put our family of four on skis?

From our first time on skis, in February 1966 —a one‐day outing at Windham Mountain in New York's northern Catskills — we were captivated by the exhilaration that skiing can produce. The impression was strengthened on several day trips to Powder Ridge in Connecticut and a weekend at Stratton Mountain in Vermont. But then parenthood (a son and then a daughter) prompted us to give up skiing, at least temporarily. We planned to return to it when our children were old enough to join in.

We delayed our return far longer than we had planned because our daughter had a congenital tight heel cord that limited her movements. However, early last year, the problem was corrected by surgery and within a few months, the surgeon said, Tara would be ready to try skiing.

So, last January, Marge and I, Tara, 8 years old, and John, 11, finally set out for the slopes for the weekend, we parents for our comeback, the children for their debut.

Since two close friends were doing their skiing Mount Watatic at Ashby in north‐central Massachusetts, about 10 miles from a log cabin they were building, we decided to join them there. Mount Watatic, like scores of small ski areas in the Northeast, is a family‐oriented center with six trails, none of them expert. Its 1,832‐foot summit is about half the height of many of the better known peaks in Vermont.

Compared with the thousands who converge each winter weekend at Stratton, Killington, Mount Snow, Sugarbush and the other better‐endowed ski giants, Watatic generally attracts, on a Saturday and Sunday, 650 skiers, most of whom live no more than 20 miles away.

If chairlifts and nearby lodging are requisites for weekend ski trips, it is best to forget about this mountain. There are no accommodations close to Watatic, and we settled for a Susse Chalet motel in Leominister, a half‐hour's drive away, where we had a pleasant room with two double beds for $17 a night. We took our morning and evening meals at Denny's, moderately‐priced restaurant less than 100 feet away.

Watatic's has only a rope tow and two T‐bars. They were ideal for us and the price was right. A one‐day package, which we took advantage of twice, included rental of skis, boots and poles, lift tickets and a group lesson of an hour and a half — all for $15 each a day.

Moreover, the skis and boots were a revelation. In 1966, along with everyone else, we started with long, cumbersome skis that were difficult to manage. And, as anyone who skied in those days will recall, seemed to take forever to lace up the boots of the prebuckle era. At Watatic, though, and on our subsequent ski trips last winter, we followed the graduated length method, starting with short skis, which are far more comfortable for a beginner, and then graduating to progressively longer skis as our ability increased.

Our instructor — one of 24, most of them parttimers — was a friendly young man from nearby Fitchburg State College who, by the end of the first day's lesson, had us traversing down a small practice slope. Unfortunately, because of insufficient snow, the beginners’ slope was not operating that weekend, but after a while I felt that my son and were doing well enough to try our luck from the midway point of an intermediate run.

John, a good athlete unhindered by fear, did magnificently, while our daughter, about whom we had been so apprehensive, surprised us with her dexterity on the practice slope. (Incidentally, an instructor told me that children can start skiing at the age of 4.) As for my wife and me, we found that, unlike 13 years before when we had skied with carefree abandon, fear of injury was now our overriding concern. Consequently, we moved with extreme caution. But by Sunday afternoon, after a few harmless spills, we had managed to exorcise most of our fears and were skiing about as well as we had 13 years before.

By the time we left for our home in Connecticut late Sunday afternoon, we were eagerly planning our next trip. And Marge and I were delighted to find that total costs for the weekend had come to less than $250.

Three weeks later, again at the recommendation of friends with children, we drove to Carinthia, just south of Mount Snow in Dover, Vt., for weekend. Again we stayed at a Susse Chalet motel, this one in Brattleboro, about half an hour's drive from Carinthia's base lodge. The accommodations, again a room with two double beds at $17 a night, did not measure up to those at Leominister but they were adequate. At Carinthia we rented equipment, which we had put aside for us after the first day, and signed up for group lessons both days. They cost $82 a day for all of us, or $22 more than the daily total at Watatic.

At both Watatic and Carinthia we found that a group lesson can at times turn out to be private or at least semiprivate. Because of bitter cold weather, the weekend turnout was smaller than usual, with less demand for instructors. I wound up at Carinthia with my own instructor, Guy Yovan. He was a 17‐year‐old high school student from Fairfield, Conn., who surprised me with his teaching ability, poise and patience.

Guy had far more confidence in my ability than I did. After I had spent the morning going up on the rope tow, he induced me to try a T‐bar. I had more difficulty with it than 1 did with the slope itself. I fell twice on the ascent after trying to sit back on the bar instead of letting it act as leverage. Fear of injury remained a psychological obstacle for me, as it did for my wife. But I found myself traversing well and, in ending my runs, I no longer had to rely on a wedge, or snowplow, but could stop with a stem turn instead.

Expenses for our second weekend minutes drive from Snow's base lodge. It had all of the amenities — living room with fireplace, dining room, equipment storage areas and, to the delight of our children, a well‐equipped game room.

Arriving at Mount Snow a day before we were to embark on our “For Parents Who Ski” program, we rented equipment from the Mount Snow's shop. Marge and John took 120‐centimeter skis, I had 135's and Tara much smaller size. Then, outfitted in jeans and ski jackets, we headed for the Mixing Bowl, a beginners’ slope, and our first trip on chair lifts.

After a few runs on the granular snow my wife and I realized that John and Tara were skiing as well as if not better than we were and that, in view of their swift progress, it would make no sense for us to ski separately.

Because of the relatively small number of skiers at Mount Snow that week, the four of us were assigned our own instructor, Ray Fougere, a former mathematics and science teacher from Huntington, L.I. In our first lesson, he soon decided that John was a cut above the rest of us and dispatched him to an advanced group, a surprise because we had thought our kids might hold us back on the slopes.

After one run, Mr. Fougere told me looked terrified. This did not surprise me since advoidance of injury still was my main priority.

That afternoon our confidence was shaken further when we saw a woman removed from the slopes on a toboggan after a bad fall. Mr. Fougere was quick. to point out, though, that injuries have been sharply reduced in recent years because of improved ski bindings and boots. By day's end, I had managed, skiing on the Beaver slope, to lessen my fears. I found myself using the skis’ edges with greater proficiency to make smoother turns.

Meanwhile, Marge had become more aggressive on her runs, and it was clear that Tara was on the verge of stepping up in class with her brother.

Weekday skiing late in March certainly had its advantages, particularly for novices like ourselves. For one thing, we practically had Beaver to ourselves at times, leaving us ample room to negotiate the slope. And there were no lines at the lifts.

By the third day, at Mr. Fougere's sugastion, I switched to 150‐centimeter skis while my wife advanced to 135's. As the instructor promised, the longer skis enabled us to turn more easily, and we fell less frequently. John and Tara preferred to retain their shorter pairs.

That afternoon, we found out, somewhat dramatically, that skiing as family is not only more fun but also can be safer than skiing without the children. About a third of the way down Beaver, skiing ahead of the others, fell. Suddenly, my son came hurtling down, faster than I thought he would even dare ski, screaming, “Dad, look out for Mommy's ski !”

Looking uphill, I saw a loose black K‐2 sliding toward me and ducked just as the ski whizzed past my head. Marge had lost the ski in a spill. Tara found the incident so amusing that she fell down laughing. But I shuddered later at the thought of what might have happened if John had not warned me in time.

The lesson learned was that when skier fastens a ski back on again after fall he must place it across the slope, not allow it to point downhill.

By the fourth day of our five‐day stay — and our eighth day of skiing overall as a family — John and Tara had progressed well enough to ski down stretch of Gondola 2, an intermediate run, while Marge and I were skiing with what we regarded as considerable confidence, though not enough to try to negotiate the steeper slope with our children. That, of course, was ironic, since our original plan had been to take part in the “Parents Who Ski” program so that we could get in more skiing and not be held back by John and Tara who, we presumed, would not be able to keep up with us.

Altogether, the five‐day package, which included lodging and meals at the Alps‐Hof Lodge, lifts, lessons and rental equipment, cost $600 for the four of us. Having eaten out on two nights, and with lunches at the Mount Snow cafeteria, our total expenses, including gasoline and tolls, amounted to slightly less than $700. Considering the progress our children made, the individualized instruction, the accommodations and the confidence that my wife and I regained, we thought we had gotten good value for our money.

Indeed, all three of our ski trips cost less than we had expected. This season prices of accommodations and lift tickets have gone up, but at least we will not have to spend anything on rentals. Spotting a newspaper advertisem*nt for a garage sale that included children's skis, Marge picked up a pair of Rossignols for John for $25 and a pair of K‐2s for Tara for $15. Both pairs had bindings and both were in excellent condition.

My wife and I plan to buy our own equipment this winter, along with ski clothes. Jeans may be adequate if you seldom ski, but they get wet and uncomfortable after a couple of spills, particularly in corn snow.

Skiing economically, we found, does not necessarily result in any sacrifice in pleasure. We think we demonstrated that a couple can resume skiing after long absence and do it with children at reasonable cost. We think we also proved, at least to ourselves, that a couple can overcome fear of injury—fear that stems mainly from the responsibilities of parenthood — and make quick progress.

Now we have a new goal : to catch up with our chil children.