Grays On Trays

A book review about a new book on spontaneous order and politics throws out a point about snowboarding as well. It’s meant to be an illustration of the unpredictability of life, and how it’s important to adapt–or die.

Harrison sees neoclassical economics, both free-market and interventionist, as stuck in a static-equilibrium-model way of thinking that deters progress and limits understanding. Progress happens when an equilibrium is shattered, something no economic model, no matter how sophisticated the formulas through which it is expressed, can predict. The key is understanding evolutionary dynamics and being open enough to let them happen.

He uses the fascinating example of snowboarding. The first snowboarders were baggy-panted delinquents likely to be stoners who were less than welcome at respectable ski resorts; some resorts banned them. But snowboarding kept growing in popularity, and now ski resorts not only tolerate boarders, they welcome them and design trails for them.

Michael Perry, president of the National Ski Areas Association, now says that “if it wasn’t for snowboarding, the industry would have suffered a major contraction.”

No economist or trade association predicted that snowboarding would save the ski-resort industry, and the industry’s first impulse was to discourage it. Eventually it had the good sense to let the evolution happen.

I’d like to see that quote from Perry sometime. It sounds plausible, though it should also be noted that snowboarding participation reached a plateau for a few years. The financial impact of snowboarding varies from hill to hill. The Aspen Ski company, for example, gets less than 20 percent of its business from snowboarders, if I recall correctly. Many areas in the Pacific Northwest, however, draw about half of their customers from riding.

The larger point is true, however: The benefits of uncomfortable changes are often not obvious, but can be essential.

From where to place chairlifts to what kind of snow-making equipment to buy, running a commercial ski operation requires a lot of decisions. Here’s another one: Where and how do you cut ski trails?

I’m sure there are some industry guidelines and rules of thumb in place. They probably include factors such as minimizing erosion (which has implications for water quality), minimizing the chances of skier or rider collisions, taking advantage of natural patterns of snowfall and sunlight exposure, and so forth. (In a way, designing a ski mountain may be like designing a golf course: How much do you take what nature has given you in the land, and how much do you seek to overcome it?)

I thought of these questions as I walked through a park the other day. Like many city parks, it has a playground, a grassy field, and a woods.

What sort of experience would the park make for cross-country skiing? I decided to find out by walking through the woods. There are plenty of informal trails, probably created by local children looking for a place to ride their bikes, run, or even smoke cigarettes or weed, or drink.

Some trails are tightly spaced, with young trees and plants crowding in on the edges. Others are wider. All of them have some debris, small sticks of dead wood. Others are obstructed by tree trunks, which can be thin or thick. Sometimes a trail is obstructed by a whole tree that has been downed by human action–or by age and death.

Speaking of death, I found one trail that I would dub “Suicide Run.” It’s narrow–10 feet wide at its widest–and has many trees–some rather thick–on its edges. It is, at least for the parcel of land, steep. I had a hard time keeping my footing walking down this path in cross-training shoes; I’d hate to be on it on cross-country skies that have no edges. Downhill skis? Maybe. My snowboard? Probably not wide enough for comfort, given the pitch.

So having a mix of easy and difficult trails is one factor. What are some others? If you can point me to some resources on this subject (perhaps the association of ski areas has a publication), please make a note in the comments.

If you expected traffic to ski areas to be down this season, you’d be right. According to an AP story published on the site of KOB-TV, New Mexico, there were 57.1 million “skier visits” across the country, a year-to-year decline of 5.5 percent. (The 2007-08 had seen a record turnout of 60.5 million.) Coincidentally, traffic to all Colorado resorts dropped a total of 5.5 percent. (Technical note: You have to take numbers from Vail Resorts and add them to numbers from Colorado Ski Country USA. Vail does not belong to that trade association.)

Not all declines in traffic were equal, however. Aspen Ski Co reported a drop of 7.6 percent. The Snowmass Sun reports that traffic was the lowest since the 2003-04 season.

Beaver Creek traffic increased 1.3 percent, and Vail actually saw an increase of 3.3 percent. Both resorts are owned by Vail Corp, which reported an overall drop of 3.5 percent. That must mean that traffic to the company’s other resorts–Heavenly, in the Tahoe area, and Keystone and Breckenridge in Summit County, Colorado–dropped fairly significantly.

While I think that the so-called “stimulus” bill that the new administration will enact is poor policy for a number of reasons, it’s now the reality. Perhaps some lasting benefits will come out of this pork-fest.

Something like, say, Timberline Lodge at Mt. Hood, offering a base for both winter and summertime riding and skiing.

Perhaps anticipating another FDR-style flurry of government spending, the Wall Street Journal ran an article last month (“Shining Example: A New Deal Gift That Keeps On Giving,” January 23) about the lodge, one of the many projects of the Works Progress Administration.

The building of the lodge, finished in 1937, was a make-work project, designed “to employ as many artisans as possible.”

While government could pay workers to produce works of art, it couldn’t fulfill President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s dream of the lodge’s business venture meeting the test of the “workability of recreational facilities installed by government itself and operated under its complete control.”

Install facilities, it could do. Operating them well as another matter. As Leslie Hook writes, “Market forces [which is to say, the freely made choices of consumers] had nothing to do with the design or siting of the lodge, and the early operators struggled.” As a result, the lodge was profitable during only two of its first five years.

Lodge operators were renters only and not owners who could profit from eventually selling the place to someone else. That discouraged investments in facilities. (Here’s an experiment: How much renovation have you made to your house? Now how much renovation have you made to your last apartment?)

The lodge was closed during World War II and briefly reopened, but it soon became clear that “only one thing could turn around this government-made disaster: private investment.”

In exchange for a fee (4.5 percent of revenue) the U.S. Forest Service leased the business out to RLK & Co, which (despite being a renter) put in a lot of upgrades to the investments.

Even today, the U.S. Forest Service (that would be you and me, taxpayers) spends somewhere between $1.2 and $1.5 million each year on maintenance. Much of that money comes from fees that the company pays to the USFS.

Over the last 30 years, federal taxpayers have kicked in $8 million. Hook notes that the lodge company hoped that it would snag some money from the stimulus bill. (Since few people actually know what’s in the bill, it will be a while before we know whether they got their wish.) Meanwhile, the Friends of Timberline have coughed up another $4 million.

Hook concludes, “Don’t get me wrong: Timberline today is probably one of my favorite places in the world. But it thrives in spite of, not because of, the ideas it was built on.”

The other day I mentioned that at least one ski area is trying to reduce clutter in the lodge, and mentioned that I wasn’t too keen on the idea.

But here’s something that some ski areas can do to improve the guest experience: get rid of those cloth-towel rollers in the restroom.

Maybe it’s just me, but I find them particularly gross.

So that brings up the next big question: Are paper towels or electric-powered air dryers better? After doing 5 minutes of Google research–give me some slack, it’s Sunday night–I’ve decided that this is one of those imponderable questions, since you’ve got a lot of different factors to consider.

Maybe I should just take a small bottle of alcohol-based hand-cleaner with me and stick around in the lodge long enough for my hands to dry off.

During this last season, the management of Mt. Sunapee enacted a “clutter-free” requirement in its lodges. (Here’s one publication that thinks it’s a great idea.) No street shoes left on the floor while customers are out snowboarding or skiing. No extra pieces of clothing on the table. No coolers or crockpots full of food or drink left on the table. Nothing. Everything goes into lockers. Did I mention that the lockers are coin-operated?

My first reaction to the announcement–I was going to reprint it here, but I’ve tossed out the magazine in which I read it–was that this sounds pretty much like the kind of language that you’ll hear from a company when it wants to squeeze more money out of you, like when the a note in the bill from your cable company says “Please notice that we have adjusted [READ: raised] your rates.”

Do some people object to clutter? Certainly, but it’s been a big part of the lodge landscape in many ski areas.

I’m not sure where this next lodge is, but this next author describes a scene I know well:

“By 3 pm, we had retreated to the lodge to eat a snack, compare bruises, and rest for a while. I know that ski lodges in movies have comfy furniture, and fireplaces, and hot tubs, and sometimes famous actors wearing tap shoes, but our ski lodge is nothing like that. The lodge is a big room filled with picnic tables piled with backpacks, coolers, brown paper bags, and wet clothing. You hardly ever see anyone burst spontaneously into song or tap dance across the floor. But sunlight does come in through the big windows, and the chaos of people constantly coming and going, peeling off clothes or putting them on again, makes it a friendly place.”

An anti-clutter policy for a lodge? In the extreme situation, it’s understandable. But I wish there was a third way. A lodge without some clutter is like a mountain without snow.

One way to get ready for the new winter season is to visit a ski and snowboard show. In mid-November I attended Minnesota Ski & Snowboard Expo, held at the Minneapolis Convention Center.

When I walked through the door, I had my doubts. After all, the ballroom looked about the size of a Target, without a grocery store. That’s actually a generous space, but for some reason I was expecting more.

A Bungee Device?
The first thing I noticed after entering was the “Euro-bungie,” a ride available for $7. I was only mildly interested, and not enough to part with the cash, so I watched briefly, took some photos, and walked on. I’ve seen such a device at the base of Buttermilk, but I’ve always thought of it as more of a kid’s toy than anything else.

A Sliding Experience for the Kids
If you’re going to have an indoor show, you really can’t re-create the alpine environment. But one ski area did give kids the chance to experience some sliding.

First, you’d put on some ski boots. These weren’t typical ski boots, though. The bottom of the boots were covered by a rectangular, smooth piece of plastic that allowed the boots to slide with minimal friction. In place of a snow-covered hill was a wooden ramp covered with a plastic rug. The rug (or mat or something approximating the two) had bristles, like a driving mat at a golf course. The difference (aside from the color) was that the bristles were spaced further apart from each other.

The “customers” (there was no fee but you did have to sign a waiver) would walk up the steps to the ramp and then “ski” down. Obviously there was no turning involved, and there was no option for “snowboarding.” Still, it’s a way to get some kids introduced to something that is essential to alpine sports–sliding down a hill.

Trampoline Shows
There was also an area for trampoline shows, sponsored by yet another ski area in the state. It had the kind of fake alpine backdrop that you’d expect to see on a low-budget carnival ride. It did set the mood, though only barely, and the show could have been fine without it. (There was no similar backdrop for the “ski hill” I just described.)

There were two trampolines, side by side. Some athletes performed flips, splits and other tricks. Interesting, but what does all that have to do with snowboarding or skiing?

Freestyle skiers and riders train on trampolines to perfect the aerial arts, so the jumping gymnasts dismounted, put skis and snowboards on their feet, and went back up on the trampolines. They did various grabs and other maneuvers, but my camera wasn’t equipped to get any non-blurry photos, so sorry, no photos.

The Fake Terrain Park
Yet another ski area hosted a mini-terrain park, and invited their performance team to give a demonstration.

A series of rollers–think of the things that boxes go on as they move along an assembly line–served as both the slope and the snow, and lead to rails of various sorts. I’m not terribly knowledgeable about freestyle so I’m not going to try to name the kinds of rails the people used. I think there were supposed to be regular “shows,” but I never waited for one to take place. Instead, I watched for a few riders and skiers to make laps on their own. Compared with the view from the top of a terrain park, this non-exhibition exhibition.

The Exhibits
The real attraction for me was the chance to talk with representatives from ski areas, equipment companies and the like. In this regard the show did not disappoint.

Some of the exhibitors had little to do with skiing or snowboarding, such as a local newspaper or radio show. Others, such as a group of people who offered a teeth-whitening session for a “ski show special price,” reinforced the stereotype of alpine enthusiasts as being wealthy people focused on appearances.

There was some sort of car on display, though I forget the name. I don’t think it an obvious alpine vehicle such as a Subaru or a Range Rover, and it probably wasn’t even a car that could get your heart racing during the summer, such as a Porsche or even a Chrysler convertible.

Of course, most of the exhibits were, thankfully, more directly related to skiing and snowboarding. I spent quite a while talking with a fellow from the Cable, Wisconsin, area. It’s a haven for cross-country activity, including the American Birkebeiner, an annual race. I don’t write much about cross-country skiing. But I can see getting more involved in the nordic scene if I were living in the right setting. At the show I got a lesson in how cross-country trails are groomed.

There were also exhibits about ski racing, which is a big deal in Minnesota, especially among high school students.

Hoigaards, a big presence in the local retail market, set up a mini store that had a soup-to-nuts inventory. I thought briefly of buying a Rossignol Jeremy Jones board (last year’s model) for $300, a good markdown from $500 from a year ago. But it’s not different enough the board I already own to merit a purchase. The store was overly crowded, and I left it to return to the rest of the show. That was too bad, as there was plenty of room in the ballroom behind the store to spread out the goods.

Ski areas represented
A number of ski areas in Minnesota were represented, as you might expect. Many were within the Twin Cities metro region and thus, depending on where you live, with an hour’s drive. They included Afton Alps, Buck Hill Elm Creek, Hyland Hills, Trollhaugen, Welch Village, and Wild Mountain.

Andes Tower Hills–like the ski areas listed above–is yet another vertically challenged location in Minnesota. Unlike the others, it’s a 150-mile drive from Minneapolis. Why they showed, I’m not sure, as I doubt that many people will make the trip. Lutsen, the best ski area in the state and one of the two best in the Midwest in terms of terrain, was represented as well.

And of course there were exhibits for destination resorts from the Rockies. I picked up a trail map and nice four-mountain poster from Aspen, where I’ve been blessed to spend
a lot of time over the years. Steamboat sent someone, and I said “Say ‘Hello’ to Shannon for me,” though I’m not sure that registered. (Perhaps I came across as a stalker.)

Silver Mountain had a great gimmick: Sign up for a free season pass. There was a catch, of course. You have to stay in one of the resort’s properties. The representative from Taos Ski Valley was less than enthusiastic. Maybe he saw my “Grays on Trays” t-shirt and was anti-snowboarder, or maybe he was just bored. The person representing three areas in Michigan’s Upper Peninsular (vertical feet: 600; driving distance from the Twin Cities: 5 hours) wasn’t terribly friendly, either. Given the proximity of booths from many other ski areas, you’d think that friendliness would be a higher priority.

Minnesotans seem to like Montana resorts. Perhaps they’re more willing than other people to put up with the temperatures there, which are colder than those in Colorado or Utah. Whitefish, Montana sent someone, as did Moonlight Basin and Big Sky.

From my experience, ski areas in Utah don’t do much to market themselves here, and I saw only one place–Park City–send a rep, and he was a Minnesota resident.

One thing I like about going to shows like this is learning about ski areas I didn’t know about, or learning a particular feature of one I already know. For example, Big White touts itself as the second-largest ski area in British Columbia, though I’ve read other things that made me question that claim. I also enjoyed learning about Banff and the Lake Louise region, with three great ski areas For various reasons I’ve said for several years now that my next move will be to Calgary. Despite whatever negatives that move would bring, it would put me within a 90 minute to 2-hour drive from some good terrain. (For my 2 hour drive, by contrast, I get all of 700 vertical feet!)

As for gear, I didn’t spend a lot of time looking around, even though a number of snowboard companies were present. I did chat with a representative from Head, who couldn’t tell me much (he was a skier), but he did send me a catalog a few days later, which has made for some good reading.

Freebies
At the Breckenridge both I surrendered some marketing information in exchange for a chance to win a 4-day stay-and-ski package. Come to think of it, I surrendered various pieces of information at several booths in hopes of getting freebies. Those hopes have gone unfulfilled, since no one has called me since the show. Wandering through the tables prompted the question of when I should fill out a contest entry. There were four questions in play.

“How much effort is required?” Usually the contests asked for the same thing: Name, address, phone number and e-mail address. You could sometimes omit the phone number of e-mail address, but you better leave some contact information. After all, if they can’t find you, they can’t give you the prize.

“What’s the value if I win?” To use a silly example, an all-expense paid week-long trip would be more valuable than a pair of gloves.

“What’s the cost of claiming the prize if I win?” This question is less obvious but important. One ski area was giving away a pair of free lift tickets. Depending on when and how you purchase the tickets, the prize could save you close to $200. That’s great. But you still need to pay for transportation to the place, plus get lodging and food. On the other hand, the prize from Breckenridge was an all-inclusive trip, which made it enticing.

A final question concerns the most likely outcome of entering any contest: You’ll be put on a mailing list. So you have to ask “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” For all the furor sometimes directed at “junk mail,” mail is not junk if it is informative, entertaining, or educational. Even if your chances of actually visiting Mount Snowmore in the next five years are minimal due to finances, jobs or family commitments, you might enjoy getting stuff in the mail.

If you can go, do it
If you’re able to attend a ski and snowboard expo, give it a go. Sure, you may have to pay an entrance fee as well as a fee for parking. On the other hand, it’s a good way to get your mind ready for the snowboarding season, especially if you live far from some good-sized mountains. Pick up a few trail maps for bedside reading and sweet dreams of powder days, carving slopes and the joy of riding. Learn about the latest in gear, and share your enthusiasm with other alpine enthusiasts.

One thing I enjoy about visiting different ski areas is seeing how the mountain management does things. Usually they observe the same practices, but sometimes you’ll see something different.

I’m used to seeing signs in Aspen/Snowmass that say “Easiest Way Down.” That makes sense; you don’t want a beginning snowboarder or skier to plunge down a steep blue if he is still working on the basics.

But when I was at Loon Mountain, New Hampshire, I saw something different. Some signs said “More difficult.” Some read “Most difficult way.”

Maybe it’s a way to boost the egos of intermediates? It doesn’t matter much, I suppose, and it serves a similar purpose to the “Easiest Way Down” signs. It helps beginners to know where to go, though unlike the case with Aspen, indirectly.

On the Internet, directories of ski areas are a dime a dozen. Scratch that; they’re usually free. (In fact, Grays on Trays has one.)

But some resort directories are a better read than others. One that I came across today is SkierNet.com. It offers the usual list of statistics for each area (acres, vertical drop, etc.)

What sets it apart is opinionated commentary of each area, starting with whether “wanderers” and “hotshots” might think about a particular mountain.

The opinions can be sharp. Here are some examples:

• “If you enjoy a ski/winter shopping mall/resort/development with lots of shoppes, people movers, elevators, escalators, clock towers and resorty shnizzle-shnazzle, you will love Beaver Creek.”
• “If you’re concerned that Crested Butte doesn’t offer a lot of alternative entertainment, don’t go…you don’t ski hard enough.”
• “They like to tout Bohemia as Western skiing in the Midwest, but you’d be hard pressed to find many places like this where you can ski legally in Colorado.”

The site definitely takes an “old school” approach that seems to scorn anything but hard-charging skiers who want nothing but skiing out of a vacation, and no amenities at the base. (I’ve read a fair amount of text, but still only a sampling of the site.)

When I say hard-charging skiing, I mean skiing only; a strong anti-snowboarding (and anti-rider) attitude rears its ugly head from time to time throughout. Still, for the wide scope of coverage and distinct approach to giving an opinion each mountain, SkierNet.com is worth a visit for anyone looking for information on a new place to slide. A lot of sites seem to simply reformulate press releases. This one doesn’t.

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Since the comments function has gone kerfluey, I’m amending this post by pasting in a comment left by Erica, who publishes www.snowboard-women.com:

It is really upsetting when people are still so anti-snowboarder… I have had skiers on more than one occasion tell me that skiing was basically moribund before snowboarding made people step up their game, and reinvigorated the sport. In my experience, it’s mostly the “old school” (read: older) skiers that have the snowboarders-suck attitude. Have you noticed the same?

My response: No, I’ve not seen much over anti-riding bias. In fact, the people I hang out with when I go to Aspen are mostly in their 60s and 70s. I got a comment or two the first year I switched from skis, but then I got some comments on how well I was riding. Maybe the personal connection kept the negativity at bay? I will, here in the Midwest, occasionally be asked by an adult “So how’s that snowboarding working out for you?” They then listen politely.

The Midwest has plenty of good qualities, but great snowboarding terrain is not one of them. Even so, the region develops plenty of skiers and riders, as the Chicago Tribune describes (“Midwest resorts excel in ski lessons,” January 20, 2008)

It mentions that there are “more than 100” ski resorts in the region. You can, by the way, see the web site of all of them through GraysOnTrays: see the Great Lakes page for Ohio, Indiana, and Michigan, and the Midwest page for Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, Missouri and the Dakotas.

According to one official of Vail Resorts (which owns Vail, Breckenridge, Keystone, Heavenly and Beaver Creek resorts), Chicago is once again the second city—this time in providing the most number of customers to the company.

The Tribune article describes regional ski areas, including Wilmot (Wisconsin), Grand Geneva (Wisconsin), Shanty Creek (Michigan) and others.

If you’re interested in a long-weekend getaway to introduce your children to skiing or snowboarding, the article is especially useful, because it describes the children’s programs at various resorts.

Did you ever wonder how the number of snowboard instructors compares with that of ski instructors? Wilmot has 240 instructors, of whom 60 are snowboarders. Assuming that nobody among the 240 teachers both skiing and snowboarding (most likely an invalid assumption, but close enough to the truth), that’s a ratio of 3 ski instructors to every 1 snowboard instructor. That sounds similar to industry averages for the customer base, but I digress.

Are you ready for a magic carpet ride? The director of the snowsports school at Grand Geneva says they “have really revolutionized the learning process” for helping students—especially children—spend more time trying to make turns and less time grappling with the rope. I certainly would have benefited from a carpet too, as it took me quite a while to handle a rope tow during my early days on a board.