Category Archives: Skiing

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In Search of Winter

IMG00053dcnr_008372imagehandler I always liked the change of seasons here in Pennsylvania. The changing leaves of the fall were alwyays a sign that winter was on its way and for some strange reason, I have always loved the snow and the winter. I still do to this day in spite of the fact that most people my age are looking to go south to get out of the cold. From the time I was a boy, when the first snows came, I was the first kid out the door with the pan or the Flexible Flyer to the Stowell’s back yard for a sled ride until my dad rang the bell for me to come home for dinner. Oftentimes it was not enough snow and too much mud and the sledding was a little rough. But as the winter progressed, those early outings and the exuberance of the early season was rewarded with deeper snows and better sledding.

As I started to ski in earnest, I would listen to the ski reports and hope that the phone would ring and Bob Rose would tell me to get ready for the trip to the mountains for the first skiing at our local area, Seven Springs. When I could drive, my folks were pretty understanding of my passion for winter and when we had a snow day off for school, my mom’s car was packed and I was on my way to the mountains. They told me to be careful which I was as I had some harrowing rides on the PA Turnpike, but I always arrived in one piece and left the same. Weekends were the same way with Friday afternoon drives after school to the mountains and the return on Sunday after bunking at the Rich family house on County Line Road near Seven Springs. I loved the winter. I loved the snow. I loved the wool hats and clothes. I still love everything about winter.

One of the more interesting and humorous outings was a while back with my friend Mike Hudson. I had taken Mike to Tuckerman Ravine and showed him big time winter camping and skiing. We had done several road trips and Mike was relegated to hearing my enthusiasm about winter for hours at a time. One time we were at a party together in early winter and I told him that it was going to snow up north of Pittsburgh. For those of you who are not from this area, we have this bigtime snow machine called Lake Erie and when the clippers come across the lake from Canada, it can dump unusual amounts of snow in northern PA. and Western New York State. I went to college not far from the lake and it was winter for most of the year in that neck of the woods. I said,” Hud- we need to go cross country skiing tomorrow and I will pick you up at the crack of dawn.” He was game and we took my International Scout northward towards the snow belt. We started to see snow around Oil City and decided that we would start at Drake’s Well which is in Oil Creek State Park. It was the site of the first oil well in Pa. and as we observed the well while suiting up, the snow was coming down hard and we were excited for an early winter outing. What we didn’t realize was that the ground was still fairly warm and as we broke the fresh snow with our skis, it was sticking to the bottoms of the skis and we were leaving green tracks all over the place. We tried waxing and scraping the snow but the frustrations were mounting and I told Hud,” We are out of here.”

We drove up to the Allegheny National Forest and settled on some trails that were close to the roadway. Same situation occurred. The ground was too warm and the snow was too wet. We were getting soaked and Hud’s enthusiasm was waning. I liked being out in the weather but Hud was getting frustrated with the weather, the conditions, and me. Had I been by myself, I would have enjoyed the day, regardless of what had happened but I was intent on making sure Hud was having a good time. I convinced him that we needed to get closer to the lake because it would be colder with more snow. That was a huge shot in the dark. We ended up at a cross country area near Erie and the conditions were a little better but the snow was still sticking to the skis. I kept plodding onward and Hud was finished. He begged me to get in the car and drive home. I reluctantly said ok and off we went down I-79 in a snowstorm.

I dropped Hud off and told him thanks for the company. He laughed and said,” McCloskey- I have spent 12 hours with you and I need to recuperate. I am not going out now and probably will not leave my house for days after that outing.” Hud is a character and I didn’t take it too personally but it just goes to show you that some people are more enthused about the winter than others. I have been known to drive to Vermont to ski upper Cascade at Killington in October and return several weeks later in bullet proof conditions with the snow guns blowing full force. I like snow storms. I like the muffled sounds that occur when the snow piles up in the trees and on the roads. It is a soft experience and if you can enjoy it on skis, snowshoes, pan, Flexible Flyer, it is all the same. Fresh air in the depths of the winter. Why sit on your couch and wait for spring? Embrace the winter. I have a post from last winter entitled the same. Check it out. I even turned my beach loving wife into a winter participant. She still likes the warm weather and the beach, but she has embraced the winter and has been drawn into the ethusiasm of her husband who may not have all his oars in the water. It’s coming. Enjoy it. Thanks for reading.

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Get to know an Austrian

From the Best of http://www.chroniclesofmccloskey.com

Trans Can HigwayGoogle Image Result for http--www.flags.net-images-largeflags-AUST0002.GIF (2)photophotophotorodeln01 If you check out my Janury 23rd blog post about my time in Austria called “The Rodelrennen” you will see some funny things that happened along the way there. If you are a skier, at some point you will meet an Austrian. Even if you are not a skier, you will still like the stories of a very passionate and humorous people whose lives revolve around winter sports. As I said in the post, my first experience with the Austrians was on an exchange trip between U.S. and Austrian ski instructors. I was a guest for two weeks in that country and participated in the Rodelrennen(read about it), skied in many areas including the Soelden glacier where the recent World Cup opening races were held, and taught for a week in Kuhtai- a small resort near the Italian border. Witnessing the Hahnnenkamm World Cup Downhill Race, I got to see the passion of the Austrians up close and personal as 100,000+ people line the “Streif” to see their heroes rocket down the slope at nearly 90 MPH into the finish area. This race is like the Super Bowl in Austria and the whole town of Kitzbuhel buzzes with the energy of the world’s greatest ski race.

In my teaching experience over there at Kuhtai, I was reminded that the origin of ski instruction was in St. Anton, Austria. The technique of the Austrians was never questioned and the introduction of the wider stance by the PSIA American Technique was seen with a wary eye by the patrons of the Kuhtai resort. I was trying to teach them the wider, more athletic stance that the racers were using, but the ladies and gentlemen who were taking the mandatory lesson at the time would hear none of that. They wanted me to guide them basically around the resort and not try to teach them anything new especially the current teachings of the PSIA. I drank their plum schnapps and reveled with them as they all enjoyed their time in Kuhtai, but make no mistake, we were in the land of skiing- Austria. Anyone else who thought differently was a usurper to the ultimate degree.

Personally, I have met many Austrians in my skiing adventures and as much as they are a proud people who take their winter sports very seriously, they are a fun lot. Take my friend Max Katzenberger. Max was a pilot for USAirways and was proud of the fact that he was a captain and worked his way up through the Austrian military. He always walked in front of his crew and remarked to me one time that whenever he was in a holding pattern and wanted to land, he just thickened up his accent a bit and they got him down in a hurry. Another time, some guys were ignoring the flight attendants on the plane and their instructions. Max called the security at the gate and had them removed from the plane. He remarked,” I tell you guys to behave, you don’t behave, now you go to the Klink!!!” You don’t mess with an Austrian. Max was fun to ski with and was a very enjoyable host on my honeymoon with Janet. We met Max and his wife Barb in Austria and toured the country with them. They showed us his home town of Moedling and we spent some time in the Austrian wine country in the foothills of the Alps in a town named Gumpleskirchen. Max had that joyous love of life. He passed away a few years ago and he is sorely missed among the local ski community.

Josef Cabe was the ski school director at Hidden Valley Resort here in Pa. for many years. Josef and I would travel to PSIA update clinics and it was so funny to hear his big hearty laugh and his very thick accent. He constantly criticized the clinic leaders and insisted on showing them the right way to ski. He was strong as a bull and could ski most people into the ground, including the clinic leaders. In the evenings, he led the group in song with Austrian anthems and everybody loved Josef on the slope and off the slopes.

Another Austrian that I spent some fun time with was Rolf Sigmund who owned a ski shop in town at the time. Rolf was a solid skier in the Austrian mold and we went heli-skiing one time in British Columbia together. He didn’t like the off piste skiing in the trees, and in the wind packed conditions that you get sometimes before you hit the deep powder that is always shown in the movies for heli-skiing. Sometimes it gets pretty rugged and Rolf always remarked to me on that trip that,” thees is pullsheet McClaaaahskey. We should go to Tahoe. The slopes are smooth and the chicks look at you in da lines and it is way more fun than theeees pullllsheet McClaaahhhhskey.” I laughed as he tried to bribe the helicopter pilot into flying us back to the lodge so we could watch the Super Bowl. Rolf was hilarious as he drank his schnapps and abused some loud obnoxious New Yorkers who were along on the trip.

I got my rear end chewed pretty well one time by a rather intimidating Austrian named Rudi Kuersteiner. I was with a group of guys skiing rather fast through a beginner area at Whiteface in the Adirondacks. We were there for a clinic and Rudi saw us and skied up to us at the bottom of the hill and demanded that we all follow him to the side of the slope. There he told us in no uncertain terms how rude we were and how dangerous it was to ski that fast where beginners are learning to ski. He was right!! We were wrong and were told so by an old pro. Again, you don’t mess with an Austrian. Fun loving people but don’t get on their bad side.

The Austrians are passionate people and if you get the chance to ski with them, talk with them, drink beers with them, you will surely have a good time and you will be told how skiing really is and how you must go to Austria to ski where it all began. I always laugh when I think of their universal famous line to me…………” you don’t know sheeeeet McClaaaahhhskey.” They are right. Thanks for reading.

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The Craziest Fourth of July Weekend Ever

From The Best of http://www.chroniclesofmccloskey.com

photo The picture you see above is yours truly as a young lad at Tuckerman Ravine on July the 3rd. My friend Eric called me from Vermont and said that they still had snow at Tuckerman Ravine up in New Hampshire( see my earlier posts on this place). So being the adventurous, no obligations, do whatever I wanted guy( this was BJBJ-Before Janet Before Jack), I decided to make the trip and spend the Fourth of July in New England. I packed up my skis, boots, poles, spring skiing gear, pack, hiking boots, road bike, golf clubs, tennis racquet, bathing suit, and basically all the recreation equipment that I had at the time. My neighbors thought I was moving. They were shocked when I told them I would be using all of these items that weekend.

So, fast forward, I leave work at 5:00 and head north on 79 and East on I-90 for the familiar trek to Vermont. I could probably drive that in my sleep but nonetheless it is a hike and I arrived in Bethel, Vermont at 3:00 AM. I crashed at the Durfees and Eric woke me up three hours later. He laughed because he said I was saying something about not being able to go because the concrete was not yet dry. Now I have never poured concrete in my life but for some reason I was having a real nice dream about manual labor. We drove the three hours plus over to Pinkham Notch, New Hampshire where we loaded the skis and boots into the pack along with some food and beverages for the day and began the hike to the floor of the Ravine. It was pretty neat to hike up there and see folks skiing in their shorts and T-shirts and the party on the Lunch Rocks was going strong early in the morning with the hooting and hollering and heckling going full tilt when skiers bit it on the steep descents. Eric and I got a lot of runs that day and after a quick swig of a beverage,, we headed back down the mountain trail to the parking lot. The drive back to Vermont was filled with laughter about the great time and the fact that we got two visits to the hallowed Tuckerman Ravine in one season.

The next morning, we headed out on the road bikes for a “short” 60 mile ride. Eric, as I have told you before, is the master of the understatement and as we headed out of Bethel to Killington, I knew this would be a torturefest because my pal here was and is a very fit guy. On the descent into Woodstock, we hit 60 MPH because a truck driver hollered to us our speed as he passed us on the downhill. That was kind of crazy and the sidewinds were a little shaky for me. I was glad to hit the valley and head up the steep hill back to Bethel. I limped into the Durfee garage and we got out of the bike duds and into the golf gear. T- shorts and shorts were the apparel of the day as we hit The Montague golf course. I laughed when I saw a hat, sunglasses, and Hush Puppy shoes staring at me out of the ground with a tombsone at the head of the display. The tombstone said, ” this is what happens when you don’t replace your divots.” A classy place to say the least and we made our mark when Eric rocketed a drive under the bumper of a car in the parking lot. Needless to say, our skill level on the course is not what it is like on the slopes and we cheated and hacked our way around 18 holes and laughed the whole time. From there, we went to a swimming hole with Eric’s wife Helen and cooled off after the raucous round of golf at the famed Montague. The tennis racquets came out next with some doubles with Helen and Eric and after a great barbque, I crashed again dreaming of the infernal concrete job that had not been finished.

The final morning, Eric and I woke early, and I bid my goodbyes to Helen as we headed to the Adirondacks to meet our friend Mike Smith( Post- The Older We Get- The Better We Were.) Mike has the marina at Pilot Knob on Lake George and we were towed around all day on Mike’s rocket boat. We water skied a lot that day and the sunburn was memorable as we ended the day with a sandwich and a cold one before I packed all the stuff up once again for the trek back to the burg. Eric and I thanked Mike and he headed back to the Green Mountains and I headed west towards the land of taxes and potholes. As I arrived back at my place at 3:00 AM, I unloaded all the gear in the garage and once again crashed in my own sack. Funny how that wheelbarrow full of concrete appeared again just as the alarm went off for the start of a new work day. With all that we had done, my dad’s famous quote came to fruition,” Work- is the curse of the leisure class.” I am not sure I could keep that pace every weekend but for one Fourth of July Weekend a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, it is a great memory even to this day.

As we remember our Founding Fathers on the Fourth, think about what they did, read about what they did, appreciate all that they did. When I look at that flag on the Fourth, I certainly am thankful to them and the good Lord for living in a great country. Thanks for reading and have a happy holiday. Carpe Deium- seize the day. Thanks for reading.