Barneløpet 2010

The Sons of Norway lodges in Colorado sponsored the annual Barneløpet or "children's race" at Winter Park. Something about the combination of snow, outdoor sport, young people, competition (for some), medals (for all), and the mountain landscape makes me joyful. The races are organized by 1K, 2.4K, and 5K and participants range the gamut from Nordic teams from Boulder to first time skiers.

The groomed trails at Snow Mountain Ranch and the lodge buildings make for an ideal setting. In the past few years, I helped to organize an afternoon orienteering course, but this year an orienteering club set up a circuit with electronic interfaces and ability to upload results to the web. Whew. Enough of paper and pencil.



As the Olympics bring home, good Nordic skiing requires great athleticism. During the past few years, a growing number of free groomed trails, like those in Leadville, have opened up for the public. Maybe next year I'll get me a pair of those thin skis and long poles and really cool outfits.

But then maybe I should leave that for the next generations, some of whom can't yet quite make it around the 1K course.

Friends and Family

A good deal of hanging out skiing in the mountains for a month (or more) has to do with hanging out with other people, skiers and non-skiers. So, thus far, Charlotte, Ingrid, Geoff, Pacha (dog), Jerry, Eve, Katlin, Bethany and, soon, Matt, Shannon, Harris, Addi, John and Teresa have been/will be here to enjoy this space: the house in South Main, the river running alongside, the mountains, Monarch Ski Area, and the hot, hot springs. The house breathes easier when human warmth is added to the heat put out by the furnace.

After taking Bethany and Katlin back to the airport (Why do the drivers in Denver honk at me on the sidestreets? Is it so clearly an SUV from the mountains covered with snow and road dirt? Or have I forgotten how to drive in a city?), I was listening to a radio discussion of a book on Eric Weiner's book "The Geography of Bliss" which, like some other recent publications, looks at happiness ratings of different countries. And, well, it generally all comes down to "relationships"...which would seem to indicate, given the nature of the health care debate, that the United States is not a happy country.

But snow and ways of playing in it along with mellow warmth inside a house or in hot springs can greatly increase the happiness ratings. Maybe that should be part of any comprehensive bill?

Cottonwood Lake

A few miles above Cottonwood Hot Springs along Cottonwood Creek a thousand feet or so below Cottonwood Pass is Cottonwood Lake. I went out there this afternoon to do some cross country skiing, expecting to find a trail, but only found deep, deep snow, too deep to plow through with my back country skis. So I headed out around the lake. The ice was thick, judging from the depth of the awls of the guys doing ice fishing on the far side. And the snow was windswept in many places, making for a smooth glide. In spite of the strong wind and snow falling through the late afternoon light.

It was a contrast to our house a few miles across the Upper Arkansas Valley where the sun was shining and folks were watching tv and quilting and preparing supper. The east and west sides of this valley provide such contrast in terms of snowfall, temperature, and conditions. And differences in how to experience the day...all of them good, but marking the kinds of choices we are able to make when our time is open-ended and our ability to experience life presents so much choice.

Mineral Belt Trail

The Mineral Belt Trail runs for 12 miles above Leadville through the ruins of the mines that brought, for a while, great wealth to this town. And to families like that of Meyer Guggenheim (as in the art museums in New York, Bilbao, Abu Dhabi) and Horace Tabor (multimillionaire, US Senator, who lost it all in the crash of 1893 and whose wife, Baby Doe, froze to death in a shack by their mine). Legends and stories line the trail. And such stories: the violence and back-breaking work of the miners, the ethnic-based mining camps (as in Finntown where, surprise, the Finns lived), the bars, brothels, the instant unimaginable wealth.



Mining in Leadville survived after the silver gave out...the last major operation, the Climax molybdenum mine (check the periodic table of elements), shut down only in 1982 (and was to open again before the latest recession hit). The closing of the mine devastated the town's economy. Many folks living in the town now ride buses and cars each day for low wage labor in the ski resorts of Copper Mountain, Vail, Keystone.

In winter, the trail is groomed for cross country skiing...the skate skiing kind...and the Leadville Nordic club is serious about their technique. Its members have read all the historic markers years ago; no reason for them to stop as they glide by me. But besides the historical texts, there's that view out over the town, Turquoise Lake, and Mt. Elmo, the tallest peak in Colorado. The beauty gives me pause...will have to work on technique another day.

Skiing

So what is it about skiing? Why all this time (the month of February) at Monarch and Copper Mountain and Winter Park? Well a bunch of reasons. Like the beauty of the mountains in winter...riding a lift (and that in and of itself is fun...sitting on this open seat suspended above a steep mountainside)to a high ridge and taking in the mountain ranges...some close, some far.

From a ridge line at Monarch this morning, you could see the Collegiate Range over which Monarch Pass is the only open road in winter, to the west the San Juan Range, to the southeast, the Sangre de Cristo Range.

And then there is the sense of focus that comes when you are racing down a groomed slope or skiing the trees (gotta avoid those logs and those low branches) or making your way through choppy powder, cutting curves in the snow. This focus is purely physical...your senses feeding information to the brain, the brain sending signals to the hips and knees...keeping your body pitched forward down the slope or around the obstacle, using the skis and poles as extensions of your body...no time to be thinking about health care reform...just a kind of basic survival as you test yourself against the pull of gravity and the conditions under your skis at this moment and looking ahead for the next ten moments. That's what this towhead (well I assume he's a towhead under the helmet)is just beginning to get a feel for.
















But it's not just about downhill. After skiing at Monarch this morning, I switched to my cross country skis and skied up a nearby trail to the top of Old Monarch Pass. This was the pass used from the 1880s to get horses, carts and prospectors down into the Gunnison River Valley from the Upper Arkansas. It was replaced in the late 1930s (ahhh...stimulus money back then) by a new road (Route 50 from Sacramento California to Ocean City, Maryland)with fewer tortured curves.
The old road makes an ideal cross-country route...it parallels some of the downhill runs at Monarch...but it requires work. And the reward that comes from rounding that final curve is different...a feeling that somehow you have earned that downhill that comes when you turn around and head back down.

Either way it's not about the gear. It's about what the gear allows you to do and to feel. My father came from Telemark in Norway and I've always felt I should learn that style of skiing out of respect for my traditions. But that will have to wait for another season.

View from the windown

So I'm still trying to figure out this place, the Upper Arkansas Valley. I wake up in the morning, looking to the west, Mt. Princeton across the valley floor. Went skiing at Monarch...no new snow so I kept to the groomed trails, sometimes in the trees. It is supposed to snow tonight and tomorrow...could use some new snow. The signs at the base warn of "Early Season Conditions" but, dude, it's February...getting toward the end of the season. Soon the signs will say "Spring Conditions," meaning the snow is more moist, tending to melt in the April sunshine. So, like, when does winter begin?



and then on my way into Salida (where the Arkansas leaves the Valley, making an abrupt turn to the east to carve out the Royal Gorge on its way to the Mississippi), I noticed this cemetery off to the side of the road...wooden crosses...a barbed wire fence. I stopped and parked and could not make sense of the names or the dates (it seemed to be a cemetery for children...they were all so young) and then I realized it was an improvised pet cemetery...wooden crosses (are all these pets Christian...is there pet baptism?)... But it caused me to realize I'm not just in this valley...I'm in this valley with communities, with people, with history, and with pets. Hmmmm....it's not all just about skiing.

South Main

Came up to the Arkansas Valley yesterday, driving up from the Front Range, over Kenosha Pass, across South Park (as in the tv program), over Trout Creek Pass, then down to this valley, turning north and then east to the river itself. The river runs through cold banks of snow, making the water seem black by contrast. I'm staying at South Main, a "new urbanism" development, being built by a group of friends who are kayakers. In addition to houses and businesses, they have built a white water course that is now ready for the spring snow melt. There is an art gallery up the street and a brewpub around the corner...but you can see the Collegiate Peaks to the west through the empty lots...an occasional house here and there. South Main is an interesting example of a created community (think utopian design meets kayaking champs...a number of World Cup finalists work with the development corp).