Skiing at a ski resort means a variety of things to scores of people; one thing we are all guaranteed is to spend much of the day on chair lifts.
Sitting on chairlifts gives skiers ample time to look around at the view and notice how other skiers are handling the conditions. Have you ever been on the chairlift and something catches the corner of your eye? A force, an entity on the slopes that you can鈥檛 take your eyes off of or that consumes and mesmerizes your imagination?
There is something about the energy, the feeling: I鈥檓 talking about a great skier!
I鈥檝e always loved and appreciated the various styles and techniques that entertain the 鈥減iste鈥� at Marmot Basin. This is a chance for the skier to do his own thing; it鈥檚 the skiers personal space, a chance to write his own story, to take charge, dawdle, style it up or wipeout. That run belongs to the skier and no one can take it away!
I was on the chairlift one dreary day in February; the chairlift banter was in a comfortable, back and forth, abusing each other kind of roar. I interrupted Jasper local, Brian Sutherland鈥攚ho was elaborately, expressively commenting about his perfect edge bevel鈥攖o ask a question that had been sliding back and forth between my ears. 鈥淏rian, in your opinion, what鈥檚 the difference between style and technique?鈥�
He didn鈥檛 even miss a beat, and blurted out with expected, B.S. wisdom: 鈥渢echnique is the blank canvas in which a person can use their own style to create a masterpiece.鈥� Perfect!
Ski style has been synonymous with skiing since the pre-dawn dark ages of an amazing sport. As a past competitive skier, I only understood, copied and learned the technique of how to go down the mountain fast. I learned the various techniques to better ski moguls, powder, crud and whatever else the mountain threw at me. But I always admired the gifted skiers who could, with no apparent effort, slide, weave, dominate and hang in the air above the snow, seemingly not even making contact.
One of my favourite ski style decades has got to be the 1960s. Stein Erickson, a Norwegian with multiple Olympic medals from the 1950s, popularized the 鈥淲edeln,鈥� or reverse shoulder rotation technique, which became an obsession with ski enthusiasts all over the world.
Once Erickson immigrated to the United States, he became the director of many ski schools, which under his instruction revolutionized skiing all through the 1960s.
Wedeln swept across the continent on gusts of winds mightier than those that blow the snow off Marmot Peak.
George Andrew, a local 鈥渟tyle skier,鈥� had many role models鈥攐r style masters鈥攁t Marmot Basin and Whistlers Mountain in the way of Jack Pugh, Dean Tweedle, Doug Olsen and Lloyd Crawford.
In typical teenage infatuation, Andrew and his friends swooned and tried to emulate the older skiers; the cool ones. They had a swagger of poised, slick confidence bolstered with French-made wool sweaters with enviable stripes down the side and stretch pants tucked into Henke leather boots. Their style epitomized everything that was sort of sexy about the 1960s style of skiing.
This technique gave full artistic license to anyone with athletic prowess. Silhouetted against the late afternoon sun, a skier could, with not much effort, dance and glide their way into the style and technique history books.
As Andrew, who revelled and is still revelling in this technique, described it: 鈥渙ur skis were 205鈥�210 cm [long] with segmented metal edges and leather boots wrapped in a long thong, which was a long piece of leather strap which was wrapped around and around the boot for added stability鈥攁n incredible hazard, a helicopter blade if one fell.
鈥淲e were upright, relaxed, with feet and skis squeezed together for maximum quickness and maneuverability. Our turns were accentuated by thrusting the heels in one direction while the shoulders actually turned in the opposite direction as a counterforce of the heel thrust.鈥�
Wedeln might seem absurd by today鈥檚 standards, but its elegant, effortless style turned heads, became all the rage and changed philosophies. As such, it deserves its rightful place on the podium of ski technique and style.
Good skiers have technique; maybe they鈥檙e even too mechanical, too thought out, too predictable. But great skiers have an indomitable style; an expression, a personnel illustration of the individual, the snow conditions and the mountain. And, yes, Sutherland and Andrew, ski technique can meet style.
Even from faraway, your individual style shines on the mountain. I also know from having skied many generations, it鈥檚 awfully hard to shake the beaten-in technique that you learned as a kid. 鈥淭he A-frame鈥� was my decade and it sneaks into my skiing style at every opportunity, despite my best efforts.
Skiing, no matter what decade or whatever equipment you鈥檙e on, should be an effortless dance move of your choice; using skis or a pole to brush the snow, a caress to connect, unseen pressure guiding skis. Stylish, gifted skiers aren鈥檛 in the snow, getting dragged or bogged down in mediocrity, but are using snow and terrain as an expression, an aid, a resistance for something finer.
Skiing leases a blank mountain canvas; loft, levitation and grace coiling, curling into an accepting braid, permeated with snow crystals, centrifugal forces and a sigh of heaven.
We have the liberty to choose, to draw our own powerful, bold lines, to articulate and create fluid magic.
And in the whole scheme of life, in the singular, flash of lovin鈥� skiing; if the old A-frame decides to pay me a visit, what does it really matter?
聽Loni Klettl
Special to the 51暗网
Loni Klettl is a born and raised Jasperite, whose father Toni Klettl was one of the last park wardens to raise his family in the backcountry. Loni, an alpine skier who competed in the 1980 Winter Olympics, has been skiing Marmot Basin since her childhood and has been sharing her memories of the 50-year-old ski hill on her Facebook page. Printed here is one of those stories.
