One tough lady

Our team's lone female monoskier is one tough lady. Twenty years old and standing tall at four foot nothing, Tori is leaving Colorado tonight, four weeks earlier than planned, broken. But you'd hardly know anything was wrong.

I met Tori in June last year in Jindabyne at a ski racer development program. At this point she was a stand up skier, using outriggers to help her make her turns. What struck me then about her was her willingness to do and try anything. 

"Ski down there." "OK." 

"Do that three more times." "No worries."

"Are you tired yet?" "Nope."

She had guts and nothing seemed to faze her.

When we met again two months later, she had to transform herself into a monoskier. In order to compete with each other on an even playing field, athletes with disabilities must be classified into groups based on their physical ability. Tori was classified into a group as a stand up skier that would have left her with little chance of ski racing success. But as a monoskier she would have far greater opportunities. The decision was easy, and Tori threw herself headfirst into monoskiing. 

Like I said, she has guts, so after a few laps of Smiggin Holes' magic carpet she was ready to tackle something bigger and better. Two poma rides and several death-defying cartwheels that would have put a gymnast to shame later, Tori was hooked.


Fast forward to the beginning of 2011, spin to the other side of the world and you would find Tori continuing her monoskiing journey in Colorado. You would find her taking it to the boys during training. You would find her sometimes beating the boys at training. You would find her waxing her skis late into the night, even though she could hardly see over the work bench. You would find her tearing along on a snowmobile, making sure she was not breathing anyone else's fumes.

And then you would find her accidentally skiing into the moguls. The view from my vantage point was head-ski-head-ski-head-ski. It was one of those 'what am I going to find?' moments. What I did find was her grinning face and the question, "have you got my helmet?" In all the excitement it had flown off and was waiting in the trough of a mogul, sixty metres down hill. She insisted she was fine and skied out the rest of the day. 

I walked into dinner that night and Tori gave me the thumbs up. Not because she thought I deserved it, but because she didn't have a choice. Her thumb was bandaged halfway up her arm, broken in two places. She just thought she'd jarred it, so didn't say anything because she wanted to keep skiing. Dressed, ready for skiing the next morning, it was broken to her (no pun intended) that she had to pack her bags. It would have been bitterly disappointing, but we could hardly tell - as her bus pulled away, heading for the airport, she was giving us the thumbs up. I'd like to think she had a choice. 

A happy good time week

"Exclamation!" Schffwooooooph. Cheers and whistling. These were the sounds of my week. If I was ranking weeks, this one would go down in a best-of list. Not one thing in particular made it so, just an accumulation of happy good times. A happy good time week!

Tuesday dawned to 16 inches of fresh powder and blue skies. This was a new (and challenging) experience for our development ski team, but they battled courageously. Skiing on one leg in soft snow is tough. (Or so I've heard.) And skiing in a monoski in fresh snow means a constant stream of snow flowing into your lap and pounding into your face. Several face plants and cartwheels later they were all skiing the deep snow like demons...who ski.

Happy sunshine times at Vail Top: Michelle, Jono, Stu, Lincoln, Mark and Tori.

Wednesday delivered another 15 inches of fresh snow. Due to the fact that half of Colorado had called in sick the day before so they could go skiing, there were very few people who could make the most of the even newer snow, meaning even fewer people on the hill. A brief training session in the morning was followed by a massive afternoon exploring Vail's Back Bowls. Too. Much. Fun.

Obligatory cheesy chairlift shot. Note: My facial hair was more like facial icicles at this stage.

And what's a stellar week without some stellar live music to top it off? With steam billowing from his scalp like a chimney stack, Lyrics Born got the faux cobble stone streets of Vail heaving. Even the upper classes, viewing the show from their chateau windows were getting their funk on.

Prime viewing position, from the shoulders of a one legged man.

But it's only Sunday. By my calculations there is still one day left to bring me round to the end of this tip top week. Bring on Monday!

Timed to perfection

You know those moments where everything just seems to line up perfectly? After being inside all day you look outside to see a sunset that puts your wall paper to shame. When you’re outside in the sun and dirt, digging a hole thinking about how thirsty you are and someone brings you a glass of lemonade. When you’re rewinding a video and stop on the exact place you wanted.  I love those moments. Those moments make me feel like a superstar.

I had two of those moments on one day very recently. On Sunday afternoon I was driving our athletes to Denver so they could catch a flight to Europe early on Monday morning. It’s normally a two hour drive and we’d heard the weather was going to be bad. Being the conscientious we are we left a day early to stay a night in Denver and make sure we got to the airport in the morning with plenty of time. Four minutes from home in Avon we rounded a corner to witness a sea of glowing red lights. Hundreds of brake lights glowed and nothing moved. At that precise moment the announcer on the radio came on the air to let us know that there’d been an accident on the I-70 between Minturn and West Vail and the traffic was backed up like a parking lot. Def Leppard’s drummer couldn’t have had better timing. It was one of those moments.

The next one of those moments followed twenty minutes later. While we were playing eye spy and waiting for the traffic to clear we’d changed radio stations. As the traffic returned to full speed the new announcer came on the air to tell us that the I-70 was backed up because of an accident between Minturn and West Vail. It was another one of those moments…except an hour too late.

In the twenty minutes we were waiting for the accident to clear the bad weather had arrived and sent all the traffic on the I-70 into cardiac arrest. If we were going to be sitting in traffic for the next little while eye spy was not going to cut it. Perfect time to get some reading done. Unfortunately, Shantaram was so engrossing that I didn’t see the traffic moving again and lost several places in the jostle for pole position in the traffic jam. Clearly reading wasn’t going to work either. What do you do when your car isn’t fancy enough to have a DVD player? You improvise and put a laptop on the dash. That way I could watch a film and still watch the traffic at the same time. And everyone in the car could join in. Perfect! It made five hours driving feel like four!

Predictably, the next morning dawned bright and sunny with clear skies and roads. But those couple moments where everything lined up perfectly made it all worth it. Those moments are golden.

It's miiigghhty cold out 'ere

Pain: A basic bodily sensation induced by a noxious stimulus, received by naked nerve endings, characterized by physical discomfort (as pricking, throbbing, or aching), and typically leading to evasive action. (As defined by the Merriam-Webster online dictionary. I'm led to believe it's a very reputable dictionary, primarily because it was at the top of the Google list).


I'm going to break down the last day of 2010 and the first few days of 2011 for you based on this definition.


Noxious stimulus: The cold. The oh so very cold. December 31 began with a peer out the window and the thought, "Oh, I thought today was going to be cold. It doesn't look that cold." I'm not sure what cold exactly looks like. I don't think I expected snowmen standing outside shaking their stick fists and frowning their coal eyes at me as a warning, but it didn't look that different to December 30. I learnt how wrong I was when I ventured out onto the balcony in boxer shorts and bare feet. My entire body recoiled in a move similar that of Cosmo Kramer's in any number of Seinfeld episodes. I quickly put pants and socks on and only moved outside when entirely necessary.


Naked nerve endings: January 1 dawned to an absolute amateur error. Fruit left on the front seat of the car that was intended for breakfast was frozen solid. If only I had a blender with me - frozen bananas make a wicked smoothie. This really has nothing to do with naked nerve endings, but I thought the naked bit might get you reading.


Physical discomfort: The next couple of days were not entirely pleasant. The mercury hovered anywhere between -20 degrees and -30 degrees celcius. I don't think I need to explain physical discomfort when I tell you it was my job to stand in the shade videoing racers skiing past. Although, I can't complain; the racers had to wear lycra.


Evasive action: Sharing the sliver of sunlight breaking through the trees with the other coaches. Short spints up hill. Windmilling arms. Granola bars.


January 3 was like heaven on earth. We woke to a balmy -10 degrees and the driest powder you could imagine. There's a silver lining to everything. So now if you hear me whinge or moan about how sore/painful/cold something is, just say to me, "Tom, remember those couple of days at the start of 2011?"

A real American experience

A real American experience. That’s what I had been missing. I’ve been in Colorado for a month now and, until recently, hadn’t had a stereotypical American experience. You know the ones. Finishing your steak and realising there really was a plate underneath, you just couldn’t find it. Going to a frat keg party that gets shut down by the cops, who turn out to be really cool and join the party. Buying a gun from Wal-Mart. That one almost did actually happen. One of the people I’m living with who has a visual impairment came home from Wal-Mart with a Winchester case. We all freaked out until he just pulled a scope from the box. It is to help him see race courses from the bottom of the hill. Pretty much anything you would see in a Michael Moore film.

I finally got a full on dose of American culture over the Christmas break. I had a few days off so I headed over to Breckenridge to visit some friends. Apparently they’d been hanging out for a reason to go ten pin bowling. So the day after Christmas that’s what we did. Erin was the expert in our group – own bowling ball, sky blue leather bowling ball bag, bowling shoes, bowling ball shiner – and her alley of choice was in Dillon. I couldn’t help but show my shock and excitement when they suggested we eat at the alley. This real American experience was actually happening. My arteries couldn’t help but show their shock and horror when we looked at the menu, handwritten on a white board. Cheese pizza, corn dogs, hot dogs, nachos, just to start. This was all a bit much for us, so after a buffalo burger across the road we returned to the alley for bowling and beer. It was everything I was hoping it would be: dark and dingy, people curling balls from the edge of the gutter to the middle of the pins, beer served in plastic cups. The only thing missing was a group of mismatched men in bowling shirts with names on the back like Bowling Stones, Kingpins and Rolling Pins. And if you were wondering, Erin won. Just.

Ashley (bowling name: Dinah) demonstrating 

her impeccable bowling skills.

Dinah doing some serious 

ball shining.

Part two of the real American experience came this morning in the form of a diner breakfast. Halfway between Vail and Avon, just off the I-70, lies the old mining town of Minturn. People come from all around to Minturn to eat at the Turntable Restaurant. This place is for real. We were greeted by an aging, flirtatious waitress, drip coffee was served, half and half was added to the coffee, orders were taken and we were left to marvel at our surroundings. Original Coke posters and mirrors adorned the walls, a locked glass case filled with Elvis memorabilia and life-size mannequins of Elvis and Marilyn Monroe stood sentry in a corner and, the crowning glory, Minturn High School graduating class pictures peered down upon us from above the door. We politely enquired to our waitress where her class photo was. She finished in 1966. The class photos only covered up to 1959. The Turntable Restaurant’s food is good. I can recommend the veggie omelette. It is a travesty that it is only the third best restaurant in Minturn.

The Turntable Restaurant, Minturn.

So now I’m looking for some more real American experiences. Any ideas?

New perspectives

I’m learning. People have different perspectives and priorities. I reckon I’m a pretty accommodating kind of person. I’m one of those people who will hesitate when opening a door, wondering if I should hold it open for that person who’s doing a bit of a jog and a skip trying to catch the open door, but not wanting to seem like they are. They are also wondering if I will hold the door open for them. By the time I’ve decided whether I will hold the door or not they’re already through the door and giving me an odd look that’s saying, ‘Thanks, you can close the door now.’ On second thoughts, maybe I’m not accommodating, maybe I’m just indecisive. Anyway, where was I before I got sidetracked by doors? Perspectives. So, being accommodating (or indecisive) I’m pretty open to new ideas or points of view. Or so I thought.

I’m in Vail, Colorado working with the Australian Paralympic Ski Team, which is training for the World Championships in January. These skiers like to ski fast. Really fast. And to ski really fast they like to have hard snow. Fresh snow on the ground is soft snow, making it difficult to go fast. I prefer fresh, soft snow. It feels floaty, it’s fun and it feels better than most things when it hits you in the face. Until a few weeks ago I didn’t realise how different our head coach’s perspective on soft snow is.

We’ve woken to several mornings of fresh powder. The head coach finds this infuriating. It makes it difficult for our skiers to train. It forces him to change plans. While he’s considering these change of plans the rest of us are standing at the bottom of the hill silently praying that training will be called off and we can all go freeskiing. To his credit, he gets creative and produces some good results, considering all this terrible new snow.

This morning was particularly difficult. Almost a foot of new snow fell and we had speed training with the US Ski Team. Their coaches and I spent an hour slipping the course, pushing this beautiful, soft, dry powder out the racers’ way. It felt like sacrilege. Please forgive me. But, I’m learning. It is another perspective on snow. And one that is not all bad, as race courses are fenced off from the general public. This means that most of the snow stays untracked. Luckily I’ve been very forgetful lately, leaving all sorts of things at the bottom of the hill that I have to go collect. I'm finding plenty of reasons to go play in the fresh powder that can hit me in the face. I'm accommodating the new perspective. 

Less than ideal skiing conditions in Vail.

Everyone loves a winner

Three years ago when Kevin Rudd became Prime Minister he could do no wrong. He was Mr Popular. He had the t-shirts, he was high fiving nannas, he was kissing babies. K Rudd was the man. He was a winner.

A little over twelve months ago Tiger Woods was the best golfer in world. He was unrivalled in his dominance in world sport. If he didn’t win a tournament people were surprised. He was winning.

Four years ago Australia’s cricket team won the Ashes 5-0 against England. You get the picture.

Flip forward to late 2010 and things have changed. Although he and his party won the last election, Kevin is not in style. People have chucked their Kevin 07 tees in the Salvos bins and moved on to Jules. Now people just wonder, “How did he screw that up?” When people think of Tiger Woods they’re probably thinking the same thing, but just with a different connotation. I don’t want to talk about the cricket right now.

Yesterday I went to the Birds of Prey World Cup ski races in Beaver Creek. And people there certainly do like a winner. Every racer who looked like they would take the lead the crowd would go nuts for. Cow bells would ring and feet would stamp. No matter who was winning, the crowd loved them. At one stage Frenchmen filled the two top spots. It was not that long ago that the White House replaced French fries and French toast with Freedom fries and Freedom toast for three years. Nonetheless, the crowd went wild. Each time someone new took the lead, the last racer was happily forgotten.

The best was saved for last though. An American, Ted Ligety, was in first place going into the last run. His was the final run of the competition. Ted came through with the goods, giving the home crowd something to really cheer about. In that moment I was able to experience American patriotism at its absolute best. And it was a sight to behold. Fist pumping, wooping, flag waving. I couldn’t help but smile and join in with some good, old fashioned showboating. I was only two knuckle pounds short of getting my face painted with the stars and stripes.

Everyone does love a winner. I just hope Ted Ligety has a bit more discretion than Tiger.