Tag Archives: Motivation

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The Great Adventure

photophoto My friend called me the other day and remarked how my life was boring. Always blogging about things in the past, riding the same trails, skiing the same areas, and working. He was trying to get me to come out to the west and do an epic mountain bike trip with him. He has the good fortune of being retired, kids raised and doing well, and has time to be adventurous in a most excellent environment. He means well and we like to get together but at the moment, my structured life is ok until further notice. I will still get together with him and my other friends but there are pressing things now that preclude spur of the moment adventure trips.

But what is adventure anyhow? Like beauty, it is in the eye of the beholder. In many ways I was and still am adventurous compared to most people but then again, I do not take motorcycle trips to the Arctic Circle or climb Mt. Everest. The real purpose of my blog is to tell people the funny stories about my past adventures and share some thoughts of encouragement to those who might want to give the outdoors a try. From the couch to a 5K? Maybe pitch a tent with their son or daughter in the back yard and look at the stars. Or perhaps, take up a winter sport and enjoy another season. Adventure and excitement is relative. Most people have to take advantage of their own local environment and if they plan, they can take that adventurous trip of a lifetime.

So in that spirit of perceived adventure, I will recount a tale with which many of you can surely relate, including my friend from out west. It is perhaps the most rewarding, perplexing, mystifying, aggravating, worrysome and loving adventure that I have ever experienced. I have had a lot of adventures but none as interesting as nurturing the most narcissistic of the homo sapien clan………….the teenager. It all begins with the driving lesson. The wide eyed nervous but thrilled demeanor is on stage with the first step on the gas pedal, the first hard braking, and oversteering. Through it all, dad is patiently in the passenger seat calmly giving directions in the pool parking lot. After a series of turns and three point turns, the route expands on the park roads until that unexpected remark,” Can I drive to see my friend Jackie?” Imagine the bravado on the first day? But, the 59 year old kid, seeing confidence and some ability allows the adventure to continue to see the girl so that the brand new driver can impress. The teenage fascination with the opposite sex is on display with the window down and the cool look to the girl with the big smile.

Fast forward to inner city, AAU basketball and the land of hip hop( see picture above). Dad and his Rolling Stones and Byrds can’t quite relate but neither did his parents at the sight of long hair and Elton John glasses back in the day. The 59 year old kid and his spirit of adventure is amazed at learning about Wiz Khalifa, Dr. Dre and the world of social media. Nobody talks- they text. Communication is reduced to the I-Phone and the infernal X Box live. Life expands for the teenager in the man cave of the house where video games reign supreme. Remember from past blogs that Janet and I taught the teenager how to ski, swim, hit a baseball, throw a football, shoot a basketball, and now it is all put aside for the fair sex and shooting aliens in the virtual world. When the teenager comes up out of his cave, he is hungry. He eats, doesn’t say much and back to the virtual world and texting his friends. Fortunately this creature has a job at the local beer distributor thanks to some dear friends and has learned the value of making a buck.

Moving on, the high school adventure is at an end and graduation, college orientation, and eventually the college experience awaits this being who mom and dad hope can make it on its own. Tonight, I stop to see the number one son and he tells me he is hungry. I say,” How about a pizza or a hoagie to hold you over until after work?” He says,” Great” in a very teen like vernacular which I will not expose. He says,” I only have a one hundred dollar bill so you will have to pay for it.” I pull out my last 20 and buy the food and am down to 10 bucks. What is wrong with this picture? I laugh and say to myself,” he has a 100 and I have 10 bucks and am out a pizza and a root beer.” That is life with the being we all know and love……….the teenager. Oh he is polite and shakes hands, and charms his teachers, and the ladies, and enjoys his life. But we see the beast waking up in the morning, grumpy, until he is fed and comes alive in the living room. We see the teenager at his best and at his worst, but the unconditional love of this being is always present even in the most heated battles of mom and dad versus sonny boy. A boring existence? I think not. It is always adventurous to stay one step ahead of the cunning beast until the day when we release him to mid America and the campus of Ohio U in Athens. We then will see the real growth, education, and maturity that awaits us when he returns and we say……” what happened to that young boy, who turned into the teenager, and is now…… a man?” Life moves on and the adventure continues. My friend from out west always told me,” Pat- it gets better and better every day.” His son is now married, with his own son and another child on the way. ” It only gets better.” The teen years were a challenge but again, adventure is in the eye of the beholder. Most of you had that adventure and those who have not, your time is coming with the texting, burping,flattulating, “I got this covered” species we know and love as…………the teenager. Hey Jack- clean up that room and put those clothes away will ya?” Thanks for reading.

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The Epic Mountain Bike Ride

photo9 Epic is definitely an overused term when it comes to most things. The media uses the term loosely to describe events that are off the scale for most mere mortals. Sure, there are guys and gals who ride their mountain bikes in Morrocco or in the Himalaya and are sponsored by outdoor gear companies to trek with their bikes to the far corners of the world for a week,or weeks and relate the stories about the difficulty of the trail, the lack of sufficient water and food, potential dangers with native groups who might not particularly like the intrusion of people riding bicycles in their land and mingling with their friends and relatives. There are the stories of battling the elements in order to reach their goal of riding the impossible. These are probably an apt description of what most folks term as an epic adventure.
But the term epic can also be relative. What if an excursion takes a mere mortal, weekend warrior out of his or her element and places them in a siuation where the trails, weather, time and place make the ride epic in the scope of the person’s personal experience. We all can have epic experiences if we take the term relatively instead of comparing ourselves to world class athletes. The 59 year old kid has had a couple of those epic adventures on a mountain bike and part of the fabric of an epic ride is who you share the experience with on the trail.

Two of my more memorable epic rides have been with my good friend Dixon. We have known each other since the minor league in baseball and have skied together for years. We both got involved with mountain bike riding a while back and had the idea to navigate with the Pennsylvania Department of Conversation and Natural Resources map from Dixons cabin in Westmoreland County to Ohiopyle State Park and back. It seemed like an adventure at the time seeing that we usually only ride on top of the Laurel Ridge in the State Parks and the Seven Springs Ski Resort trails. Dixon is an interesting character. When you come to his house, you are greeted by a loud hello and he is usually outfitted in construction boots, shorts and a red bandanna. The Grateful Dead is blasting on the stereo and Dixon is busy loading his oversized fanny pack with blue bubble gum and Captain Crunch- his main source of energy on the trail. Dixon protects his pack with a flowered shower cap and as we leave his cabin, he festidiously checks the locks, his pack, his bike, and all of his equipment. After a pre ride shower he routinely blow dries his whole body in order to prevent any chafing on the trail. For the work load that a tax attorney like Dixon takes on, he is in great shape and likes to ride to blow off steam. We usually left the cabin early in the morning and began our ……….epic adventure in the Laurel Mountains.

Dixon and I are, and were candidates for a GPS while riding. We constantly got lost on our way out of Normalville ( how about that Pennsylvania town name?), and referred to the map to find the trails that would lead to Turkey Foot Road. Staying close to the stream bed, we rode and as I looked beside me, I saw the gleaming smile of Dixon with his blue teeth munching merrily on his bubble gum. Blazing through some seldom ridden trails we experienced the trials of briar bush orienteering, large, deep mud puddles that were always a challenge because you never quite knew how deep they were. An over the bars and out of the pedals crash into the mosquito infested water was never out of the question. Dixon was always searching for potential fishing holes along the ride and as we always made our way towards Ohiopyle, we reloaded our supplies in the local grocery store in town. Ohiopyle is a whitewater rafters paradise and the outdoor vibe of the place is welcoming to muddy, disoriented mountain bikers. We usually spent a little too much time watching the rafters and when we decided to load up and head back, we made use of the rails to trails until we reached the first of the backwoods seldom ridden trails near Maple Summit. As late afternoon approached on these rides, we sometimes had to refer to the location of the sun to determine which way was west or east. The woods all look the same when you are lost and part of the excitement of an epic adventure is when you are totally lost and need to find a way back before dark.

In the early days of these rides, we had no GPS, cell phones, or other modern ammenities that would make the adventure fool proof. We just referred to the ratty map and made our way through farms, fire roads and old deer trails until we reached a familiar gravel road that led us to Indian Head at the bottom of the mountain near Dixon’s cabin. I can remember one spring ride when we were totally out of food and water, the temperature was dropping fast, and we entered the Red and White store in Indian Head and split a pack of fig newtons. Usually I laid on my back on the porch and jammed the newtons in my mouth muttering how in the world I was going to pedal up that hill back to the cabin. Dixon always had a bright approach to things and we usually talked the lady who owned the market into riding us up the hill in her red pick up truck. Other times we would make our way as far as the Mountain Club on County Line Road and use the garden hose to get a drink and blast the inches of caked and frozen mud from our bikes. The hollow looks from some of the guys that rode with us indicated that they were all on their last legs along with the 59 year old kid, but Dixon and his blue bubble gum sustained his cheery disposition even at the end of an 11 hour adventure.

The Laurel Highlands are not challenging when compared to the epic rides that you see in the magazines, but then again, relatively speaking to the mere mortal, the epic adventure to Ohiopyle and back was adventurous in our minds. Wildlife, rain and snow, poorly marked trails, mud, aggressive farmers and their dogs, and redneck traffic always make for great stories on the trail. When you have a friend like Dixon who is a real character, it makes these rides memorable. So go do something epic. Chances are you will have fun and have some good stories to tell about your personal adventure. It may not make a magazine, but it will make your memory banks for sure. Thanks for reading.

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“I did it!”

photo This simple phrase is always heard in jubilation at any finish line of a race where hard work paid off. Take the guy in the picture above. Sridhar Mandyam is my next door neighbor who last year signed up for a program at our local YMCA called” from couch to 5K.” Sridhar is an IT consultant and does a lot of work with overseas customers and has many late nights. He was not much for physical activity due to his hard work and hours but he claims that seeing me all the time in the driveway with my bikes and skis inspired him to get off the couch and do someting physical before it was too late. I was flattered of course but more importantly, Sridhar changed his life. He ran all of last year and this winter, and prepared for his first race- The Pittsburgh Half Marathon.

Sridhar’s physical appearance has changed. He looks like a runner and has that healthy glow of someone who is enjoying his exercise and endorphin boost. When he showed up at my front door after the half and proudly displayed his finisher’s medal which you see above, I could not have been more proud of my next door neighbor. I took his picture as he glowed in the satisfaction of completing the race that he had prepared so hard to finish. That smile on his face is priceless and Sridhar is hooked on running. He can’t wait for his next race. He will definitely do the half again next year and who knows what other races will come his way. But his lifestyle is changed. No matter how busy he is, he has to get his run in. The sign of a man who is inspired to be physically fit and values his health.

A similar story occurred a few years ago when a friend of mine, who was living in Maine at the time, decided to do the full marathon in Pittsburgh. He asked me if I wanted to do it with him and I said yes and I began the tedious preparation of training for the event. He trained as well up in Maine on cold, lonely back roads in the dead of a New England winter. As the day approached, I became acutely aware that the weather was not going to be favorable for a marathon in Pittsburgh. The high the day of the race would be in the 80’s and at race start, it was already in the 60’s. I told my friend that he should eat something before we left- he didn’t. I told him to wear a hat and sunglasses- he didn’t. I told him to drink along the route as much as possible- he didn’t. At the 20 mile mark after all of his preparation, he totally shut down and was ready to take a cab to the finish. I would hear none of that because of his preparation and his training for the race as I implored him to walk. We walked for 4+ miles and when we came in range of the finsh line I told him that he must run or jog across the finish line- he was not to walk across the finish line of the Pittsburgh Marathon. We argued about it a little bit but I convinced him to run which he did right into the arms of the volunteers who took him to the medical tent to get an IV. As his wife, my wife, and I waited for him to exit the medical tent, he came out with his finisher’s medal beaming from ear to ear. ” I did it” he said and we all were so proud of his monumental effort. To this day he has his picture, medal, and race number proudly displayed in a frame in his living room. I hope Sridhar does the same with his picture and medal. “I did it” they said!

Most of the people who enter running races or any race for that matter are doing it to finish and achieve a sense of satisfaction for training and achieving their goal. They are not in it for time, place, or anything competitive except with themselves. Only a small percentage are experienced and running for time and place. Most weekend warriors are working toward the goal of just finishing what they have entered. When you see these folks cross the finish line of their first race, they are beaming and thrilled beyond belief. That is the magic potion of entering a race. A lot of people criticize those who train for an event most likely because they have never experienced the joy of completing a competition. There are a lot of couch potatoes out there who would rather make remarks than get off the couch to try it themselves. But for those who do, the nervousness of the start line, the exuberance of the crowd of fellow competitors when the gun goes off, and the ecstatic emotion that comes with crossing a finish line and getting that medal is one that you will never forget. I feel sorry for those who never test themselves and experience the euphoria of race day. My friend who ran the marathon says it was one of the high points of his life. Sridhar is still on cloud 9 with his excitement for his newfound passion. If you haven’t had the experience, check with your doctor then try it. As the famed ski film producer Warren Miller always says,” you better do it this year, because you will be a year older when you do.” Then you can say with pride……” I did it!” Thanks for reading.

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Know the Rules!

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

AP570722027_t62014d7c856-bf4a-4b95-ada5-4359dd6b415cGOClogo-shannopin-country-club Its funny, people come up to me and ask if I play golf? I respond,” only if I have to.” I am a little too nervous and jerky for golf and I always remark that if they could pitch the golf ball to me, I might do better. In any event, outside of the occasional 9 holes for fun with Janet(my wife), I really don’t play much golf. However, I do have a history of sorts with the sport. I rented clubs at Ballybunion, the famous course on the west coast of Ireland, and promptly lost 6 balls on the first 6 holes because the rough was so high. I ended up returning the clubs because the shop was closed and walked the rest of the course just to see it. Very scenic but not a place for me to play golf.

When I was a kid, my dad played golf at Shannopin Country Club in Pittsburgh and being a child of the depression, he was father enough to say that,” I play golf here- you can work here.” Which is what I did, parking cars, working in the kitchen, and most of all caddying. Being a caddy was an enlightening endeavor in that you met the most interesting people and see how they react under competitive circumstances. Take the good guys- Gene Sutherland, Don McClelland, Bill McClelland, and whatever victim they could find as their fourth. My friend Tom Herder and I would park in the lot at about 3:00 AM so we could be the first on the list to assure two rounds of doubles on any given Saturday. If we were given these guys, we were assured of balls right down the middle and hilarious comments in the midst of a very competitive and financially lucrative competition. These guys would try to beat each other each weekend, get a shot and a beer at the turn, press the bets, and then continue the competition at the card table playing gin late into the night. If I was on the winning side, I got a nice tip. If not, they were still generous but not happy.

The other caddying experiences were not as fun with the hackers spewing drives and errant iron shots into the woods. If I found one close to the out of bounds marker, I would kick it back in bounds to keep the round going and also assure a nice tip because of the pleasant experience of finding a surely out of bounds ball miraculously in bounds. Smiles abounding and a nice financial reward at the end of the day. The ladies days were another story. There were the good ones like Carol Semple who was a national amateur champion but most of the ladies who participated were, shall we say, challenged. I was always polite but when they asked me what to hit on their 19th shot on the hole, did it really matter? Oh well.

All of the time spent at Shannopin yielded me a nice benefit one year. John Conley, who was the golf professional, asked me if I wanted to work in his place as a marshal on one of the holes at the US Open at Oakmont in 1973. That was the year Johnny Miller set the course record with 63 on the final round. I marveled at his focus as he seemed to float through my hole just staring into the distance and visually acknowledging no one. He was in the “zone” and the 63 was remarkable. As a marshal, I was representing the local chapter of the PGA and had a PGA hat on my head along with an official Oakmont US Open 1973 shirt and slacks. I sure looked official even though I was 18 and didn’t look anything like a golf professional. The moment of truth came about when Lionel Hebert, a veteran tour professional, hit his ball into the sand trap right in front of me. As he approached, my blood pressure started to escalate as he asked me if he could get some relief seeing that there was water in the trap. I looked for the USGA guy who was not in sight and fortunately I remembered the Rule Number 25 in the USGA Rules that addressed casual water. I remember from my caddy days that if you could bring up water by pushing your foot near the ball, it was considered “casual water” and the golfer would be granted a club length relief. I stated this and Lionel Hebert stepped near the ball, brought up water, and looked at me. Fortunately the blue jacket and the gray pants of the USGA Official came into sight as I gave my opinion, he nodded that this was the right call and granted Hebert a club length relief. Lionel placed the ball in a dry spot, took out an iron and sent the ball flying and thanked me for the ruling. I was relieved and the USGA guy nodded his approval and moved on. I couldn’t get off that course fast enough but what an experience for an 18 year old caddy and car parker from Shannopin. Whew!!!

Good thing my dad made me work as much as he did. It built character and understanding of life that I took with me to the box factory where I worked summers in my college years. It honed a work ethic that I have tried to pass on to my son Jack who is carrying the McCloskey torch with employment. It all seems so long ago but Shannopin and the US Open at Oakmont are etched in my brain forever. Thanks for reading.  Back to the trail and woodsy stuff next week. Fore!!!!!

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Flying Solo

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

photophotoMount_Rainier_from_west So here I am out in the Pacific Northwest for a meeting in Sumner, Washington. As is my custom,I take a personal day to do something fun as well and today, as I am driving up the rural road to Crystal Mountain, I thought of my dad. It was 52 years ago that he and my mom took my sister and I skiing for the first time in a raging snowstorm in Pa. What a great gift he gave us and look what he started. The gift that kept giving all of these years. I had a chance to think about it on the drive because I was by myself and had time to think and enjoy the drive through the Cascades. I was supposed to connect with a friend who lives out here but she and her daughter were still in Vail and we could not coordinate schedules. But, you know what, that’s ok. I don’t mind being by myself and I don’t mind skiing by myself. Not to appear conceited but I do enjoy my own company. I have the time to talk to myself and sometimes I get answers. But all in all, when you are flying solo, you get to do whatever you want, ski whatever slope or trail strikes your fancy, you can stop for that relaxing cup of coffee or stop by the local ski shop and browse without having to meet someone or others. There are no conversations that say,” what do you want to ski? I don’t know, what do you want to ski? I don’t know?” You just ……do it. I was the first guy up the gondola today and the skies cleared for a moment as if my dad was looking down and had a conversation with the Big Guy up there and asked for a break from the rain. In the Pacific Northwest you can get anything at any time but that is what Gore Tex is for and that is why the locals don’t even think about weather. They just put on the Gore Tex and ski. The mountains are beautiful and even though Mt. Ranier hid from me today like a shy kid, I still saw wonderful scenery, had a great day of skiing…………flying solo.

I have a friend who owns a marina up on Lake George in the Adirondacks and he hates to ski by himself. I was always puzzled about this. Lots of times you can meet the nicest and most interesting people on a chair lift ride. There is a lot of lift time during a day of skiing and if you are the least bit personable, you can strike up a conversation if you like or you can keep your head down and nobody blames you in the least because they figure you are keeping to yourself. But the opportunity is there if you want it. I am a social guy and all the disclaimers to my friends and family, I like to do things with them. Especially fun things like skiing. But there are days like today where you have the whole day to yourself without any obligations and dagnabbit…..it is enjoyable sometimes. As much as I say I enjoy being by myself, it is still amazing how many people I still engage in conversation. It started with the coffee ladies at one of the many coffee shacks here in the Northwest. They are neat little places that say,” Coffee with a Purpose” or ” The Best Coffee in Enumclaw,Wa” The ladies are friendly and I converse with them and then I am on my way. I talk to the lift attendants and thank them for their attention in loading the chair. I rode up with the ski patrol on several runs and also skied with a bunch of hairbag locals who engaged me in conversation, although my lingo and theirs are a little different. But the language of skiing is universal if you can turn em both ways. So, as much as I say I was by myself flying solo, I really was not if you consider talking to complete strangers and feeling comfortable.

Mountain Biking is my other passion and as much as I like to ride with my friends( and I do!!), those days when you hit the trails solo are really enjoyable. No pressure to keep up or decide on which trails to take. Just ride and enjoy the day. If you can get a day where you see no one, it is ok. It is just you, the trails, the woods and ……………the silence. Sometimes you see people on the trail and you say hello, but it is a brief moment in time and then you are flying solo again. Sunshine, rain, whatever…..the days are enjoyable when you don’t have to make any decisions. Sometimes you need that. We all have stress in our lives and sometimes you just have to get away. Nothing like a solo chairlift ride or a solo ride that can recharge your batteries and get you back to feeling positive again.

So, today was a gift in the Cascades. I can thank my dad for starting it all. I had time to think about that. I thought about my family back home and shared some text thoughts with them. I met some nice folks and we had a lot of conversations about how bad the weather was and how good the snow was and really…who cares anyways. We were having fun. I arrived early and left late and enjoyed the day…..flying solo. Thanks for reading and enjoy your own company will ya?

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The People Builder

Charles MartinCharles MartinCharles Martin Our former pastor at our church used to say that there were two kinds of people in this world. Drainers- those who would absolutely suck the life out of you with their needy attitude and desperate conversations. You would try to help, but the drainers in life won’t listen and seem to wallow in their misfortunes and pass on the misery in heaps to anyone with a sympathetic ear. They drain the life out of you to the point where you are exhausted in trying to help. Then there are the people builders- those folks who always have a smile on their face, volunteer to help you, listen to you, be a friend, encourage you, and in general, build you up in the modern day troubled world. Charlie Martin was a people builder.

I first met Charlie through the Ski School at Seven Springs Resort. Charlie was always involved in a lot of outdoor activities but he really sunk his teeth into skiing and wanted to be the best teacher he could be. His people building attitude was apparent in his thirst to share his enthsiasm and knowledge to his students. Charlie taught people to do a lot of things but ski instruction was how I first came across this really bright and enthusiastic man. The process to be a ski instructor is not an easy one,especially if you take the time and effort to become certified under the PSIA( Professional Ski Instructors of America). A lot of guys who teach skiing don’t make the effort to get educated and simply are a warm body in a ski school jacket. Not Charlie. He and Art Bonavoglia worked hard to get their Level II pins and then had the vision and the quest to pursue the highest certification- that of being a Level III instructor. Charlie and Art would go to the Castkills and take private tutoring from Mermer Blakeslee who was a PSIA Examiner. They not only attended the regular update clinics and specialty clinics offered by the organization, but were so enthused that they pursued this private instruction from one of the best in the business. This was not unusual behavior for Charlie. Once he made up his mind to do something, he did it and pursued it with a passion.

I saw Charlie a few years ago at our church with a guitar in his hand and discovered that one of his many volunteer activities was to be a part of the student ministry at the church. His infectious smile and really great sense of humor not only showed through in his singing and playing, but his attention to students and people in general at the church was exemplary. It could be a horrible weather day coming into church, but Charlie was always there greeting people with that big bearded smile and making them feel that they were the most special person attending the service that day.

I was not as close to Charlie as Art and some of the other guys in church and in the ski school, but I thought enough of him that when he had a stroke a little while ago, I made it my business to dash into Allegheny General Hospital to see him. Not out of any obligated reason but because a guy like Charlie who gave so much of his life to others, would perhaps appreciate someone coming into see him and building him up like he did for so many. When I came into his room, his twinkling eyes lit up and even though he had some paralysis and some speech issues, you could tell that he was locked into you with his attention. We conversed as if nothing was wrong and I told him that a guy like him would make a full recovery and his wife Colleen concurred in her strong positive way. Charlie walked me to the door and even though he could not talk, our eyes met and I knew he was on his way to recovery. What a shock when I found out that he had died a couple of days later.

Looking at Charlie that day and all through his life, it was apparent that he knew where he was going in life and in the life beyond. When you smile like that and give yourself unconditionally to people, you know the source of your salvation and you spread that good news to all that come into your path. Charlie was a kidder. Tim Sweeney told me the other day that he came to the church for Charlie’s funeral but the receptionist at the church said he was a week early. Tim said he laughed on the way out because Charlie had got him again with one of his pranks. You could just see him up there laughing down at Tim saying………….gotcha!!! Big bearded smile!!!

People like Charlie Martin are a rare breed. Not many folks would pursue a passion like Charlie. He loved life and all that it had to offer. He loved people and encouraged them to take up new sports and activities and volunteered enthusiastically to get them involved. He always looked for advice and with me, he asked all the time about his skiing. It was disarming because when I would start to discuss the subject with him, his smile made me laugh and say,” No I am serious Charlie.” He knew I was but was anxious for my opinion and wanted me to know that he was having a lot of fun too.

Hopefully, you have come into contact with some people builders in your life. They make wonderful friends, confidants, they are fun to be with in outdoor pursuits, and most of all, you feel envigorated and encouraged and a better person for being with them and being their friend. Avoid the drainers. Look for guys like Charlie. He will always be remembered and will always be with us in many ways. Thanks for reading and think snow.

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Be a little part of History

2013-02-05-the-bowlIMG_0084photophotoTannenbaum-T-barGoogle Image Result for http--theinvisibleagent.files.wordpress.com-2009-08-ski09toni_matt_at_tuckerman_ravine-193.jpgw=460&h=610Ellicottville-20130208-00088 Many years ago, I had the pleasure of hearing Toni Matt tell the story about his famous Inferno ski race down Tuckerman Ravine in 1939. Toni was born in St. Anton, Austria the hallowed ground of ski racing and ski instruction and when he came to America, he entered this famous race up in New Hampshire against all of the hotshot Dartmouth ski racers and won because he straightlined the Headwall of Tuckerman Ravine. This was a feat that had never been done let alone in a race and the National Ski Hall of Fame recorded the account on the evening that I heard Toni tell the tale. Interestingly, 1939 was a pivotal year in American skiing. Some of the first rope tows went up that year in Seven Springs, Pa. and Fish Hill up in Western New York state. All of this preceded by the first rope tow in Vermont in 1934 near Woodstock.   People were starting to get enthused about sliding on a pair of skis and the late 30s prior to the big war, were the seed years of skiing in this country. Post World War II, the 10th Mountain Division veterans founded some of the larger ski areas out west including Vail. There are several accounts written about the 10th and their exploits against the Nazis in Italy and how their adept skiing skills not only helped them in the battles in Europe but also fueled their passion to create modern day ski areas.

I have always liked history particularly the founding years of our country. But it is also interesting to look at the history of my favorite sport in America. If you ask anyone who plays golf, they can tell you about the famous courses and their history in this country. The Opens, the Masters, how they don’t take out the wooden floor in the men’s grill at Oakmont Country Club because the spike marks belonged to such luminaries as Ben Hogan, Arnold Palmer and Jack Nicklaus. If you have a passion for your sport, you know the history and appreciate the efforts of those who have gone before you. The old saying that “you don’t know where you are going if you don’t know where you have been”, applies to American History as well as the history of sport. I love looking at the old pictures of the wooden skis( I owned several pairs and skied on them as told in my last post.) I love seeing how the early days of stretch pants, leather boots, cable bindings shaped the sport and respect the passion of those who took the time and effort to market skiing.

I had the pleasure of skiing Holimont this past week up in Western New York. The private club was founded in 1962 and has been a haven to ski enthusiasts ever since. The members are avid skiers and racers, and take pride in their club. You can feel the passion of the members in the way that they meet each week with their crock pots, lunches in the lodge, promoting events that foster their love for the sport of skiing. They let non members like me ski during the week and it is quite evident that this club is well run with excellent grooming, lifts and dedicated instructors and patrollers who are eager to converse about skiing at Holimont.

History has a great way of telling the story about those who had the vision to build a hunting lodge like Adolph Dupre did at Seven Springs here in Pa. How he built the rope tow for his customers out of an old truck engine, some truck wheels that served as the rotating wheels on the tow, and a heavy duty rope that he fashioned himself. These stories are inclusive of all of those startups in 1934- 1939 and if you look at the pictures above, you will see the history unfolded. Those Holiday Valley Queens were somebody’s girlfriend, wife or mother who told the story about the fun times that they had back in the early sixties with the snow carnivals. Don’t you just love that fur hat? Not quite sure what those guys were doing with the parachutes on their backs, but it looked like fun with their wooden skis and leather boots. Well, we have stories like that as well and I am sure that as the years go on, my wife and son and his family someday will see the old pictures of our skiing exploits. They will talk about our little bit of history on the slopes. If you have the passion for a sport, take pictures, talk it up to someone who would like to try, and encourage them to be a little part of history for someone down the road looking at how it was done. I think my ski outfits and equipment are pretty state of the art. But no doubt someone looking at them in the future will ask,” Wow- what does grampa have on his feet and what on earth is he wearing?” Hey, that old relic grampa will be a little part of ski history. Think snow and thanks for reading.

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“The Sherpa”

photophotophotophotoGoogle Image Result for http--ngm.nationalgeographic.com-everest-img-gallery-31-sherpas-750x500 One of the things that you may have gathered from reading my blog posts is that I live in guilt ridden hell. Growing up Catholic among other things, I have always tried to keep the peace around my house and also keeping the peace on an everyday basis. I am not a confrontational person and usually I would rather inconvenience myself to get the job done, and make sure everyone is happy. That is why I call myself – “The Sherpa.”

If you look at the picture of the gentleman above with the huge pack and the smile on his face, you will see an actual Sherpa. This tribe of individuals is indiginous to the mountainous regions of the Tibetan Himalaya and they are hard working folks who haul all the gear, tents, luggage for alpine climbing expeditions in the Himalaya. I am sure you have seen and read about these individuals and their feats of strength always amazed me as they made it to the summits with those tremendous loads that they carry. I have always admired the Sherpas and have read a lot about them. In my Walter Mitty way, I am a Sherpa. Take skiing for instance. When I was first married, my wife Janet skied but I wanted to make sure that she always came with me so I took it upon myself to carry her boots and mine in a backback. I hauled her skis on my shoulders along with mine and often walked to the lodge loaded down with equipment. Not that she would not do it, but I wanted to minimize inconvenience. When Jack came along, I bought a bigger pack and loaded three pairs of boots in the pack and hauled three sets of skis on my shoulders and asked them timidly to take the poles. I took it upon myself to help them with their ski boots in the lodge or if we had the opportunity to park near the trail head, I would help them put the boots on kneeling on the frozen ground to minimize any inconvenience or possible complaints due to the definite “pain in the ass factor”of skiing. The sport can be tedious at times schlepping all of the gear in the cold, getting everyone ready with the usual litany of making sure that we had all of the equipment. I was the equipment manager as well as the Sherpa and it worked out well even though I was sweating like a wild man before I took my first turn- even in arctic conditions.

Sometimes, my nieces and nephews would come along and the process became a little more involved with more Himalayan quality schlepps to the slopes. But the smiles were worth it and if there was any inconvenience experienced, I took care of it. Like when my son wanted me to take his socks off because he didn’t like them in the ski boots. I stopped where I was, got down on my hands and knees and took the socks off and he skied the rest of his day with bare feet in the boots. Taking the boots off at the end of the day, they were steaming like a cooling tower at a power plant. Amazing about kids but whatever it took for comfort, that was my motto.

Perhaps the ultimate Sherpa experience besides my family ski outings was the time that I had 13 visually impaired skiers to look after at the National Blind Skiing Championships( read about it in my post-February 17th,2013) I took two of our guys with me but because of weather and a lack of volunteers, I was put in charge of 13 competitors. Congo lines to dinner and the slopes were the norm and my Sherpa skills were sharpened by hauling all of their equipment to the slopes and making sure that I had it all in the van at the end of the day. All of this in below zero temps in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

Sherpa family experiences did not take a hiatus in the summer. Hauling beach chairs, umbrellas, pack and plays, coolers, and all sorts of beach toys became a ritual in the early days of the McCloskeys at the beach. Things are a little better now that Jack is grown but the guilt ridden hell still pervades as I haul all of it into the garage after a trip just like in the old days.

One thing you learn being an aspiring Sherpa is that you get used to frozen fingers, bloody knuckles, balancing unwieldy loads, and doing it all with a positive, ” ain’t this great to be out here” attitude. My family likes to do the things that I do to an extent. But they are not as maniacal about the outdoor pursuits as I am. So I have always taken that into consideration as I try to make these outings as pleasant as possible. I am sure many of you have had similar experiences with getting the kids to the mountains or the beach. But I will tell you one thing, every loaded up day on my back was well worth the smiles of my family. Being a Sherpa has been well worth the while. Someday, it will probably be round two with grandchildren. I am hoping the back holds out. Otherwise, I may have to go to the Tengboche Monastary for some guidance by the Tibetan monks to encourage me to keep hauling and keep smiling. Thanks for reading.

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Slicing the White Carpet

Franklin Park-20130307-00105makingcorduroy_es12800px-Stok_narciarski_w_Przemy%C5%9Blu_-_Ratrak Skiing is an easy sport to learn. I know a lot of people who have said to me that they would like to learn but are either afraid, or believe that they are too clumsy, uncoordinated, or too old to learn. My response to them is that they should allow me to teach them because I have taught visually impaired skiers for 34 years and “if I can get them to ski, surely I can teach you”. We have a good chuckle about that but the truth of the matter is that……it is the truth. Skiing is not a hard sport to learn and I would encourage anyone who wants to ski to take a lesson and do it right. The Polar Vortex has set the stage for a good winter and now is the time to experience the thrill of skiing if you have the notion to do so.

Skiing was not always as easy as it is today. If you look at the picture of me as a young lad above, you will see wooden skis, cable bindings, and double lace boots. The edges on these skis were not very sharp and snowmaking had not yet been developed to any great extent, so we had to rely on natural snow which eventually turned to icy conditions here in the east. Skiing on this equipment was survival and the technique was basically to try to up unweight and get the skis across the fall line the best way we could. Lots of skidding on the icy conditions and not much support with the leather boots. But we didn’t know any better and loved getting out on the snow even if we had to make the best of conditions and survive multiple crashes and spills. As equipment developed, metal skis and plastic rigid boots became the norm and the turns became more stylish and control was becoming a reality. Edges were sharp, control on the ice became better and the elementary beginnings of carved turns were starting to be seen on the slopes.

Fast forward to today and you see shaped skis which are a lot shorter than the ones that we used back in the day. The nice thing about a ski with shape is that the tip is wide and the tail is wide and the waist of the ski is more narrow allowing the ski to be tipped on edge facilitating an easy turn to the right or the left when pressured by flexed ankles. In the beginner area, you can see real progress with this new equipment because it is easier to control and the equipment makes it a breeze to execute beginner moves on the slopes. People make real progress with today’s equipment and make their way to more advanced trails and slopes because of this new technology.

Take a look at the snow groomers above. That technology along with snowmaking has made the sport of skiing even easier to learn. Each evening, the grooming crew take these machines and make white carpets out of bumpy, icy slopes. The hydraulic tillers on the back of the tracked vehicles break up ice, moguls, and other imperfections on the trail. The end result is what skiers refer to as corduroy which you see in the above picture. This is great for beginners on trails and for intermediate skiers on intermediate trails. But as much as experienced skiers love the challenges of powder, steep chutes, and skiing in the trees, there is something about facing a slope early in the morning that has been groomed to perfection. For those who have mastered the art of a carved turn, this sight is appealing in that the skier pushes off with his/her poles, flexes his/her ankles in his/her boots, and tips the edges towards the new turn. When you move your center of mass towards the new turn and slice the ski edges from tip to tail in the radius of the turn that you choose, the arc that is formed in the snow is putting a slice in that nice white carpet. Good skiers can feel the pressured ski slicing those turns and know when any skidding occurs resulting in a determination and concentration to make the following turns perectly carved. If it weren’t for the expensive grooming equipment, and the shape of the skis, and the confident forward postition of the skier, slicing the white carpet might not be possible. Good skiers can feel when a ski carves perfectly and today’s equipment is so good compared to equipment from yesterday, that everyone has a chance to move up one level in their skiing.

The reason that I have gone into detail of the ski turn is to encourage those of you who have not tried skiing to give it a go. Winter is wonderful and there are a lot of options in outdoor winter activity. But in my mind, there is nothing quite like waking on a winter morning, having a good breakfast, taking in a picturesque view of the mountains, and launching into a series of great turns on the white carpet. Whether you are a beginner making wedge turns, an intermdeiate skidding in a wide track parallel stance, or a racer carving it up on the carpet, the thrill is the same. Skiing is an exhilarating sport and anyone who is reasonably athletic can be a proficient skier in a reasonable amount of time. Take a lesson and learn the right way. But make the effort, you will not be disappointed. Thank you for reading and think snow.

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Its a Young Person’s World isn’t it? Sometimes!

IMG00251-20100811-2242earth-full-view_6125_990x742 So, I am out running the trails tonight and I see an old dog ahead of me plodding his way behind his master who is running ahead of me. All of a sudden, the old dog cuts up into the woods and cuts a corner and the next thing you know, he is ahead of his master. I made a remark to the owner how smart the old dog is and he said that he did that the very first day that they ran. Age and treachery can sometimes beat youth and skill. The old dog validated something for the 59 year old kid. You can take a short cut or cut the corner and there is no law against it.

Toby Keith says,” I ain’t as good as I once was, but I’m as good once as I ever was.” I love that line because sometimes you can shock some young people. Maybe you make that mountain bike climb in pretty good time and even perhaps still put some of your younger riding friends in the hurt locker. Not all the time and youth is served in athletics. But every once in a while, you feel good, you had a good night’s sleep, you ate well, you had your coffee strategically in the morning, and brother, you climbed that hill better than the average Joe. Maybe you are skiing and the conditions are perfect, the sun is shining, and you rip off a couple of high speed arcs and raise a few eyebrows. Some young guns come up to you in the lift lines and maybe say,” You old dudes can still rip em.” Not all the time, not in all conditions, but just once, you might be as good as you ever were.

I used to love my father in law’s line to his two sons when I was first married to their sister. My father in law was a semi-pro baseball player and played in the Army. He was a pretty good high school athlete and challenged the two lumps to a race between the telephone poles. He used to say,” Let’s go pole to pole.” They laughed and abused him, but you know what, they never took him up on it. The point is barring something catastrophic, if you keep yourself in reasonable shape, eat well, sleep well and take your exercise seriously, there is no reason that age should get in the way. You don’t quit playing because you get old, you get old because you quit playing. I saw my pal Lon Sonick out in the woods the other day with a big smile on his face riding his mountain bike with studded tires on the snow covered trails. Lon is ten years older than me and he looks like he is still in his 40’s. A bunch of guys out at Mt. Rose in Tahoe have been riding motocross and skiing since they were 16 years old. They are all in their 60s now and ski like banshees down the chutes of Mt. Rose. They just keep on doing it.

Mindset is everything. I look around my office and see all younger people. They call us the “legacy” people and I sit with the IT group and it sounds like a foreign language to me. The key is to stay current and don’t let technology pass you by. I killed my I-Phone the other day and had to get a replacement. I frantically was calling our IT guy Bill East to help me get it set up but with Bill’s instructions and a little patience, I was able to transfer all the information and redo my apps that I use. My friend JR gave me a portable cell phone charger the other day as a Christmas gift and I was amazed at how convenient that is. I never liked Super Mario or Pac Man and my son’s X-Box Live mystifies me especially the time he spends on it. But he probably thinks the time I spend skiing in the rain or riding a mountain bike is equally ludicrous. It is a young person’s world alright but if you keep up, you can still learn a lot. And…………if they listen a little bit, they can benefit from your experience. Its all good.

I am headed towards the fourth quarter of life. I don’t dwell on that but games are usually won or lost in the fourth quarter. Guts, determination, cunning, and character are what win races in the end, and win games in the fourth quarter. I will have a great quiver of skis, a new mountain bike, a tuned up road bike,and all the clothes needed to enjoy that fourth quarter to the fullest. Positive attitude will never waver, but also, I will focus on what really is important in that fourth quarter. Experience has led me to some conclusions which concentrate on what really wins the game or wins the prize. Kindness to people, a caring serving spirit, a focus on my faith, a love for my family, are really what matter and win the prize in the end. And you can never lose your sense of humor. I lost some good friends this year. Two guys to a heart attack and one guy to cancer. But as I ride the chairlift, run or ride, I laugh thinking about them because I can see Charlie skiing the Heavenly powder, Larry telling him that he needs to work on his turns, and Chip telling them both to take up bowling. That thunder I will hear this summer will tell me that Chip won out on that discussion. So, if you are like the 59 year old kid, get into the game and enjoy that fourth quarter. The game will be won or lost on your efforts. Thanks for reading.