The temperature rises, the snow corns up and you find yourself asking: How fast is too fast?
I love spring skiing. The toasty temperatures loosen up an old body (as much as that’s possible), the soft, easy-turning snow makes everyone feel like Killy and, let’s face it, a lot of pretty bodies come out from under layers of ski clothes to bask in the mountain sunshine.
But as I was standing behind the safety of a large tree on a recent spring afternoon watching people race by, I didn’t need a radar gun to know that they were all going a lot faster than they did a few years ago.
Warm, late-season weather and soft snow certainly promote this supersonic pace. But there’s another simple reason: The invention of the shaped ski has made it easier and easier to go faster and faster on snow that is groomed so smooth that even a senior citizen can ski faster than racers did in the Harriman Cup Downhill in 1948. I know, because I’m a senior citizen and I raced in the Harriman Cup in 1948. The ski equipment of the 1940s made it impossible to ski at even today’s just-out-cruising speeds.
As more and more skiers get comfortable with today’s equipment, the speeds will get faster, and one of the more common sights on the slopes will be people hiding behind trees or continually looking over their shoulders to dodge other people as they jet down the mountain.
Is there a solution to high-speed skiing? I don’t think so. A ski patroller chasing a high-speed skier down a hill to catch him and take away his lift ticket only compounds the danger—now you have two people skiing too fast on the same run. This raises the basic question: At what speed are we skiing too fast? Is it a mathematical equation that takes the speed of everyone else on the hill and then divides it by the number of skiers per acre and sets an average speed? Then, if you ski a certain percentage above that speed, you pay the consequences. And what resort is going to pay to have a slope sheriff patrol every run?
Recently I skied in great powder snow in Montana. Sixteen inches of goose-feather stuff, and I skied at a comfortable pace for me—I wasn’t skiing fast, but I also wasn’t going slow by anyone’s standards.
I skied by someone who was going a lot slower than I was—and I probably scared the dickens out of her. A hundred yards down the hill, someone raced by me in the deep powder so he could get first tracks. All of us were having a great time in the powder and skiing at much different speeds, so how is some sort of speed standard going to be established?
There was a time when a major destination resort, such as Vail, Colo., or Mammoth Mountain, Calif., only had a few hundred skiers on the hill at one time. I know, because I usually was one of the few hundred.
Now, on President’s Weekend, these megaresorts may hit 20,000 skiers—or more—on their slopes. Because of the large crowds, should everyone ski slower? If they are all forced to slow down, will they ever come back? Is there a moral to this story?
No.
Is there a happy ending? Probably. Should we all have to take a test and then wear a number on our parkas that says this is the maximum speed we can ski or our lift tickets will be pulled? Not yet.
As it has always been, skiing is about freedom. It’s a sport built on the ability to fly down a mountainside—at any speed or in any style that works for you. That hasn’t changed. But skiers and riders now have to be more aware that better gear and better grooming has all of us enjoying that freedom at speeds that would have won the Harriman Cup Downhill in 1948.
Enough of this. I’m going skiing tomorrow—and I might scare myself occasionally. But I’ve purchased a helmet in case someone speeding down the slopes runs into me before the lifts close.
This column was originally published in the March-April 2007 issue of SKI Magazine.
Three years in the making, museum unveils a dramatic facelift and new exhibits.
This past December, after three years of fundraising and design work, the Alf Engen Ski Museum completed its latest renovation, featuring ten brand-new or redesigned exhibits.
On display are interactive tributes to Utah’s most celebrated Norwegians, Alf Engen and Stein Eriksen. The Engen exhibit includes a vast trophy case containing around 100 of Engen’s trophies and plaques, plus innumerable medals.
A new exhibit about avalanches and the history of avalanche-control work is built around the interior of a ski patrol shack, circa 1940. It includes the story of Monty Atwater’s research center in Alta, and an early M20 recoilless rifle is on display.
A series of display cases highlights the evolution of snowsport equipment, including dedicated installations for snowboards, freestyle skis, cross country skis, and various flavors of Alpine skis, all with their corresponding boots.
The 10th Mountain Division is an important part of this area’s ski history. This exhibit features World War II artifacts, including camouflage jackets, pants and skis, “trigger finger” gloves, snowshoes, a hat and goggles.
Interactive electronics drive two key exhibits. First is the spectacular three-dimensional topo map of the Wasatch Range, showing the locations of each of the Salt Lake area’s ski resorts. The map features an integrated touch screen which allows museum visitors to learn about any topic related to skiing in Utah, from resort statistics to weather conditions and historic events and people. Ski areas and backcountry access points are projection mapped directly onto the scale model’s surface.
The second electronic marvel is the greenscreen photo booth. Visitors pose for a camera and can choose from a variety of projected scenic or action-oriented backgrounds for their souvenir photo, which is then texted to their mobile device to share with family and friends.
Celebrating its twentieth anniversary in May, the museum is located at Utah Olympic Park in Park City, Utah, and educates more than 500,000 visitors annually. The museum’s building began life as the press center for the 2002 Winter Olympics, and today houses not only the Alf Engen Ski Museum, but also includes the Eccles 2002 Olympic Winter Games Museum. Admission to both museums is free.
The 1,800 sq. ft. hall was designed and installed by Ogden-based Unrivaled, Inc., a digital and three-dimensional design agency and exhibit producer.
Connie Nelson has been executive director of the Alf Engen Museum since 2004 and is a former director of ISHA.
Adrian Allinson’s woodcut of a speeding skier first appeared in Der Winter, the publication of the German Ski Association, in 1928. Oddly, because he was a well-known mountaineer and skier, it is his only known image of skiing. The woodcut certainly impresses with its depiction of action and speed.
Allinson had begun following his father into medicine but switched to the Slade School of Fine Art in London. Graduating in 1910, he promptly left for Paris and Munich. His paintings, many pastoral scenes, became well-known before the Great War. His most prized was a 1915-16 interior depiction of the Café Royal.
As one of a group of artists who were conscientious objector during the Great War, he was often hounded by Londoners. He joined the Bloomsbury Group, a liberal and loose-living set of artists and writers. Besides the many landscapes, he did opera sets, and his series for London Transport and the Imperial Marketing Board are among his best-known works. He has left an account of his artistic life in manuscript form, held in the archives of the McFarlin Library of the University of Tulsa.
A lifelong skier, Allinson was a member of the Kandahar Club, captained the British University Ski Club downhill team, and came second in the 1925 Bernese Oberland Challenge Shield, beating such luminaries as Barry Caulfeild. In the first Inferno at Mürren, in 1928, he finished fourth. Teamed with Arnold Lunn, he won the first Scaramanga Challenge Cup, in which skiers are roped together in pairs as if crossing a glacier. Lunn said that Allinson only stopped racing when he and Lunn were tied for first place two years in a row in the Scaramanga.
It is not often you can say more about the skiing of an artist than the actual art, but Allinson knew what he cut in the wood—it typified Schrei der Zeit, the cry of the times: speed.
In 1907, brothers Max and Leopold Hirsch, with their partner Harry Weis, manufactured tents and workmen’s clothing in Portland, Oregon. Harold Hirsch, son of Max, grew up climbing and skiing in the Cascades. He attended Dartmouth College (Class of ’29) and raced on the ski team. When he returned home in 1930, he took over a corner of the factory to make skiwear under the brand name White Stag—a translation of weisser Hirsch. In 1939, he designed the first rust-colored National Ski Patrol parka. By 1956 White Stag was the largest manufacturer of sportswear in the United States, and Hirsch took the company public. White Stag was purchased by Warnaco in 1966 and moved out of Portland. Hirsch was inducted into the U.S. National Ski Hall of Fame in 1990, the year of his death. The White Stag brand name is now owned by Walmart, but it’s not used on skiwear. This ad ran in the November 1960 issue of SKI Magazine. In-the-boot stretch pants, lace-up leather boots and cable bindings went extinct by 1968. The dramatic colorblocking his and her sweaters, however, do have an après-ski vibe still popular 60 years later. –Seth Masia
Coming Up in Future Issues
Spider’s Gift
Beyond the tabloid headlines, Spider Sabich changed American racing. Edie Thys Morgan investigates the misunderstood legacy of an American racing icon.
Skiers in Flight
John Lundin explores the roots of ski jumping in Sun Valley and the history of Ruud Mountain.
What to Read and Watch in the New Year
Your history homework starts with the winners of the annual ISHA Awards, listed next issue.
PLUS
Everett Potter provides a peek into Swann Galleries’ vintage ski-poster auction.
Where Are They Now: Marco Tonazzi.
Ski academies at 50; Does the racer development system work?
What a wonderful compliation of history and music made available through the web site (“History of Ski Music and Song,” September-October 2021). Appreciation to the author, Charlie Sanders. I was especially impressed by his wide ranging and through knowledge of ski related songsters from the 1950s and 1960s. Mr. Sanders really blew my mind as he described the contribution of Mike Cohen’s collection of ski songs, To Hell With Skiing! published in 1967 and his description of the contributions made by Mr. Cohen’s ski lodge Trailside, near Killington, Vermont. Mr. Sanders’ recollections were spot on and brought back a flood of memories. In the 1960s I had the opportunity to stay at Trailside. It truly was a life changing experience. Entertainment was provided by the guests themselves. Instruments hung from the living room walls. All were invited to take an instrument and share a story, tune or a song. It was the coolest thing a young teenager from the ’burbs like myself could experience. I should also add that my photograph is included as part of a song in To Hell With Skiing! I am “The Cold Skier Man.”
Mark Plaat
Albany, New York
Jubel to Norway
Congratulations with a very Norwegian issue in September-October: An extensive story on Kari Traa, review of the book on Andreas Wyller (who won two of the three first national championships, in 1938 and 1940, and led the clearing of the trail which carries his name), and then the Northland story involved several Norwegians. Keep it up!
Jon Vegard Lunde
Lillehammer, Norway
Farewell to Ron LeMaster
Ron was a very humble and quiet person, yet he produced the most amazing photo sequences of ski runs. His analyses were phenomenal and his technical expertise superb, all documented by the undeniable evidence of his photography. The photos produced the most appealing confrontation and learning opportunity for everybody—experts, beginners, professionals, amateurs, J5 or Masters.
He skied at the University of Colorado and coached there from 1977-79. He graduated and taught in the Physics Department. His passion for the physical analysis of the ski turn was legendary. The Ski World will miss Ron, the artist of motion dissection.
Richard Rokos
Former University of Colorado Ski Coach Boulder, Colorado
Courtesy Greg Fangel
Northland Revived
Here’s a followup to the early history of Northland Skis (September-October 2021). We bought the Northland trademarks in 2013 and began selling skis we make by hand right here in Steamboat. It’s a modern all-mountain carving ski made of hickory/ash laminates in the Northland tradition, reinforced with Kevlar and carbon fiber, making a unique blend of traditional and modern materials. See our website northlandskis.com.
Peter Daley
Northland Skis
Steamboat Springs, Colorado
Here’s a postscript to the article “Northland Skis: Fire and Feuds in St. Paul” (September-October) about Christian Lund, Northland Skis, and Martin Strand, who produced some of the first high-quality skis for retail sale.
In 1931, Northland donated a “very good pair” of its heaviest jumping skis for the winner of the Cle Elum Ski Club tournament. Its letter said “nearly all of the best skiers prefer skis that weigh around 15 lbs. or slightly less. It is our opinion that whenever a pair of jumping skis goes beyond 16 lbs. in weight, they are too heavy, no matter how large the hill.” Their local dealer in Cle Elum, Washington, Parchen Hardware, displayed the skis before the tournament.
The company’s letterhead has a picture of C.A. Lund, president, saying he had “taken part in many tournaments abroad and in this country, and has kept in close contact with the sport and with skiers of prominence. Mr. Lund has followed and aided in the development and growing popularity of skiing and is a recognized authority on the sport.”
John W. Lundin
Seattle, Washington
More on Megève
Regarding my article “Baroness Mimi and Mont d’Arbois,” (November-December 2021), I’d like to add that Megève heads into its second century as a partnership between Benjamin de Rothschild and the Four Seasons Hotels group, rechristened the Four Seasons Hôtel Megève. Pampered guests will find first-class amenities, Michelin-starred food and an exquisite spa. Ariane de Rothschild led the interior design work with a view to maintaining a connection to the resort’s past.
Bob Soden
Montreal
Letters to the Editor: We’re All Ears
There may not be a more experienced and distinguished readership in the ski industry than ISHA’s audience. We’d like to hear from you. Send letters to the editor to seth@skiinghistory.org. Please include your name and your town of residence.
To Heaven's Heights: An Anthology of Skiing in Literature, by Ingrid Christophersen
Skiing has produced its share of good literature. The sport owes its worldwide popularity in great part to the writing skills of Fritdjof Nansen and Arnold Lunn. Novelists who wrote about skiing, either occasionally or only once, include Arthur Conan Doyle, Ernest Hemingway, Irwin Shaw, Romain Gary, Thomas Mann, D.H. Lawrence, Graham Greene, John Cheever, John Updike, James Salter, Gay Talese, Oakley Hall and Leon Uris. Thrillers often toss in a ski chase, a few of them believable. Now and then a magazine of literary quality—The New Yorker or Harper’s for example—picks up a lengthy bit of journalism. Not a few “real” lifelong skiers have produced lyrical work.
The last time some gems of skiing literature were gathered together in English was the 1982 anthology The Ski Book, edited by Morten Lund, Bob Gillen and Michael Bartlett. Now Ingrid Christophersen offers her favorite selections in To Heaven’s Heights: An Anthology of Skiing in Literature.
Christophersen retired in 2019 after a lifetime of racing, teaching and coaching. She was a FIS delegate and coached five decades for Britain’s Downhill Only Ski Club, traditional rival to the Kandahar Ski Club. Born in Norway, Christophersen has the advantage of fluency in some half a dozen languages.
And that is her book’s strength. It draws equally from Scandinavian and English-language sources. Many of the Norwegian excerpts, comprising about half the content, Christophersen translated specifically for this book, and are therefore available in English for the first time. I found delightful surprises amongst these authors, many of whom wrote about adventures in childhood, or as young adults. But there’s a lengthy passage from the Kalevala, the Finnish folk epic, a revelation.
Many of the excerpts run just a page or two, and I often wanted more. Christophersen has given me a new list of books I want to read in full. I therefore wished for publishing details on the books from which the excerpts are drawn, so I could find them without resorting to much internet searching.
To Heaven’s Heights grabbed me, and I wound up reading its 70-odd chapters in two days.
To Heaven’s Heights: An Anthology of Skiing in Literature. Compiled by Ingrid Christophersen, MBE. London: Unicorn Publishing Group (unicornpublishing.org), 2021. 336 pages, hardbound. $45 (Kindle edition available).
Ski Life
SKI, February 1968
“Schmidt is really tough on his pupils.”
SKI February 1977
Otto Barth was a sickly child. To gain strength, he was taken to the mountains at age 16. The same year, he was admitted to the Viennese Academy of Fine Arts. Two years later, he teamed up with his artist friend Gustav Jahn for serious mountaineering. He died, probably of lead poisoning from his paints, at age 39.
Turn-of-the-century Vienna rivalled Paris with artistic experimentation. Barth socialized with a group of artists who rebelled against the progressive Secession movement to form the more radical Hagenbund. Going further still, he joined the short-lived Phalanx, which exhibited post-Impressionist and Jugendstil (art nouveau) paintings.
In 1910 Barth won the commission for the poster of the Salzkammergut resort region. The telemarking skier is shown in fine form, and in the correct Norwegian blue outfit. What’s striking is the use of color and shadow, as well as the depiction of snow itself.
Poster turned into promo stamp, 1912.
The other illustration is the poster turned Werbemarke (advertising stamp) for the Wintersport-Ausstellung, the Winter Sport Exhibition of 1912. The image of a skier descending from the mountains is center stage, again using those hints of shadow. This was an important exhibition, organized by army officer Hermann Czant (Czant was an acolyte of Matthias Zdarsky and trained thousands of Imperial Army skiers), under the patronage of the Grandduchess Zita, who would become the last empress of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.
The exhibition was divided between the business of winter sports and the physical aspects of the sport itself. The top Vienna sporting goods shop, Mizzi Langer, was represented, as was Staub of Innsbruck. Norway sent representatives, and Norwegian ski outfits and British winter sports clothes dominated. One critic was thankful there were no new bindings (controversy then raged over binding design for Alpine skiing). On the resort side, Semmering showed a model of its ski jump, and there were other displays from Triberg, the Schwarzwald, the Arlberg and Innsbruck. The trail marking from the Erzgeberge was singled out positively.
There was also a good collection of winter posters and some paintings, too. The best of those were by Jahn and Barth. I like to think that the telemarking skier was one on view; it was painted before the year of the exhibition.
The U.S. Army's 10th Mountain Division and Fort Drum Museum will reopen in March.
The 10th Mountain Division had a profound and well-known influence in World War II, and its veterans went on to key roles in developing the U.S. ski and outdoor industries. The 10th has been reactivated twice, from 1948 to 1958 and from 1985 to the present. Still the army’s only mountain division, it’s also the most-deployed division. The troops train at Fort Drum in New York (established as Pine Camp in 1908), which has grown to be the largest training base in the northeastern United States.
Finnish troops on skis during the 1939-40
Winter War. Finnish Wartime Photograph
Archive.
Newly renovated, the 10th Mountain Division and Fort Drum Museum tells the story of the birth of American military skiing and all that follows, through more than 400 objects, nearly twice as many period photographs and a collection of archival documents, all in almost 5,000 square feet of exhibit space.
On entry, visitors are greeted by a potbelly stove like those used in the wooden barracks of Camp Hale, Colorado, where the division also trained. The initial gallery then explains the early role of the U.S. Army in this region of New York, including cold-weather training for units destined to fight in Europe during World War II.
Visitors then move into a gallery focusing on the development of the 10th Mountain Division. Here they’ll find a selection of equipment, including a Weasel tracked vehicle and ski boots clad with leather soles, as rubber was rationed for the war effort. Additional galleries explore division veterans’ post-war influence on the ski and outdoor industries and show how the division’s history still impacts the U.S. Army today.
Soldiers emerging from a smoke screen
during 1940 training at Pine Camp, NY.
NPR North Country at Work.
Skiing History readers are familiar with the basic story: In 1939, as the world descended into the chaos of World War II, Germany and Russia were gobbling up their neighbors. The ski season of 1939–1940 was interrupted by the war, and there would be no 1940 Olympics. Newsreels were filled with scenes from the Finnish-Soviet Winter War, showing lightly armed Finnish ski troops destroying two Soviet armored divisions. Watching those newsreels in America, U.S. Army leaders tried to prepare for the coming conflict, in the face of much public opposition.
The army’s winter equipment hadn’t been updated in decades, nor were any units trained for winter operations. Brigadier General Irving J. Phillipson, then stationed at Fort Ontario in Oswego, New York, knew that time was limited. He wanted to try something the U.S. Army had never attempted: winter tactical training.
Inspired by those scenes of Finns on skis fighting a numerically and technologically stronger foe, Phillipson sought permission from his superior, Lieutenant General Hugh Drum, to test winter maneuvers at Pine Camp, notorious for its heavy snow, borne on winds from Lake Ontario. In January and February 1940, two years before Pearl Harbor, Phillipson and Drum conducted the army’s first known winter tactical training exercise. On February 26, the Plattsburgh Daily Press reported: “Winter Maneuvers May Revolutionize Army Life; Experiment Is a Success. Skis and snowshoes, toboggans and white camouflage shrouds may henceforth be donned as an integral part of the Army future training program.”
At almost the same time, while skiing in Vermont, Minot “Minnie” Dole and his National Ski Patrol leadership discussed the need for a military ski unit. Dole lobbied the army, and in September, Chief of Staff General George C. Marshall authorized six ski patrols (platoons, really) drawn from infantry divisions in the states of New York and Washington. But it wasn’t until Greek troops whipped the Italians in the mountains of Albania that Marshall got serious. In October 1941, he ordered the formation of the 87th Mountain Infantry Regiment in Fort Lewis, Washington. Dole and the National Ski Patrol got busy recruiting.
2nd Battalion, 22nd Infantry Regiment, 10th
Mountain Division at Fort Drum, 2018. US Army.
Beyond World War II, a reactivated 10th Infantry Division trained draftees for the Korean conflict in the flatlands of Kansas, then tested the first major overseas troop rotation into Germany during the early Cold War, serving on the central German plains to defend against a potential Soviet invasion. The division came to Fort Drum in 1985 and earned the title of the most-deployed division in the U.S. Army, serving wherever the nation called: in Somalia, where its soldiers fought in the Battle of Mogadishu in October 1993, remaining as the last U.S. troops there as part of the United Nations mission; re-establishing democratic control in Haiti in 1994; and 20 years of deployments in Afghanistan and Iraq. The division was the first conventional force to enter Afghanistan following the September 11 terrorist attacks, and its troops were among the last to depart in September 2021.
The museum offers a unique view for anyone interested in ski history, military history and the U.S. Army through the decades. We look forward to welcoming you into our expanded gallery spaces when we reopen our doors in March 2022. The museum will be open from 9:30 a.m. until 5 p.m., Monday through Saturday. Until then, follow us at Facebook.com/FortDrumMuseum. Climb to Glory, and ski safe!
Sepp Scanlin is director of the 10th Mountain Division and Fort Drum Museum.
10th Mountain Division Hall of Fame Inducts
Roger and Deborah Bankart Eddy
Deborah Bankart at the front in Italy.
Denver Public Library.
In September, the 10th Mountain Division and Fort Drum Warrior Legend Hall of Fame inducted five new members, including Major Roger Eddy and his wife, Deborah Bankart Eddy.
Deborah Bankart, certified as a ski instructor in 1939, directed the Hanover (New Hampshire) Ski School. When filmmaker John Jay joined the 87th Mountain Infantry Regiment in 1941, Bankart took over his film-touring circuit and used it to recruit for the 87th and then for the 10th Mountain Division. In 1944 she volunteered for the Red Cross and served with the 10th in Italy, with the rank of captain. Roger Eddy served as commander of K Company, 87th Regiment, in the Aleutians, Northern Apennines and Po Valley campaigns. He earned the Silver Star with Oak Leaf Cluster and Bronze Star.
The Hall of Fame also inducted new members Brigadier General Onslow S. Rolfe, the first commander of the 87th Mountain Infantry Regiment, who served until 1942 when he took command of the Mountain Training Center Camp Hale; Command Sergeant Major Christoper K. Greca, an Army Ranger who served with the 10th from 2004 to 2011; and Staff Sergeant Michael H. Ollis, who on August 28, 2013, sacrificed his own life to shield a wounded Polish officer from the blast of a suicide bomber. He received the Distinguished Service Cross.
Seven years later, Norwegian archaeologists have a full pair
In 2014, archaeologists found a lone “pre-Viking” wood ski frozen deep in the Digervarden Ice Patch in southern Norway, where it had been entombed since the eighth century. The ski was remarkably well preserved and included remnants of a birch-and-leather heel-strap binding, according to scientists from Norway’s Glacier Archaeology Program (GAP), who led the discovery (see “Glaciers Yield Ancient Skis,” Skiing History, March-April 2019).
Since skis travel in pairs, the scientists have monitored the ice patch for seven years, hoping that summer thaws and glacial retreat would reveal the ski’s partner. In late September, scientists discovered the site of the ancient yard sale: They exhumed the second ski less than 20 feet from the original discovery.
Buried deeper in the ice than the first ski, the second ski is better preserved, reported Lars Pilø, an archaeologist with GAP, on the organization’s blog, SecretsoftheIce.com. The ski measures about six feet long (187 centimeters) and 6 inches wide (17 centimeters). The skis had been repaired repeatedly, indicating heavy use. They were not a matched set and were paired after each had been used previously, which didn’t surprise Pilø. “The skis are not identical, but we should not expect them to be. The skis are handmade, not mass-produced,” he blogged. “They have a long and individual history of wear and repair before an Iron Age skier used them together and they ended up in the ice 1,300 years ago.”
Pilø reports that the two skis now stand as the best-preserved ancient pair on record. In 1924 a pair was found in a bog in Kalvträsk, Sweden—along with a ski pole—later carbon-dated about 5,200 years old, but one of the skis is in fragments and no binding parts survived (see “The European Origin of Skiing,” by Maurice Woehrlé, Skiing History, July-August 2021).
Squaw Valley Is Now Palisades Tahoe
After decades of consideration across multiple regimes, the resort scrubs the slur from its name.
Monument to the 1960 Winter Olympics.
Palisades Tahoe photo.
A year after announcing that it would change its name, Squaw Valley-Alpine Meadows made the move in September and is now officially Palisades Tahoe, a reference to the rugged granite walls and vertiginous terrain that earned the resort early fame as the birthplace of American extreme skiing.
The name Squaw Valley pre-existed the founding of the resort in 1949. The term “squaw” is now widely considered a sexist and racist slur against Indigenous women. The new name unifies the Olympic Valley and Alpine Meadows base areas under one banner.
Members of the local Washoe tribe had advocated for years to rename the resort. Former resort owners Nancy and Alex Cushing told reporters in the 1990s that a name change was under consideration.
“We were compelled to change the name because it’s the right thing to do, especially for the generations yet to come, who will grow up without having to use a slur to identify the place where they chase their dreams down the mountain,” said Ron Cohen, who launched the name-change process when he served as the resort’s president. “We spent more than a year making sure that we were doing right by the community,” said Cohen, who now runs California’s Mammoth Mountain.
Efforts to wash offensive names off the map are gaining traction. The Reconciliation in Place Names Act was recently re-introduced in Congress to update the names of more than a thousand locations in the U.S. that are considered derogatory. For instance, Denver skiers heading to the slopes can see the peak of Squaw Mountain. The governor of Colorado has established an advisory board to consider name changes throughout the state, with similar efforts underway in Utah and other places.
Squaw’s name change has led to other updates within the resort. The base area village on the Olympic Valley side is now called The Village at Palisades Tahoe. The process to rename Squaw One and Squaw Creek chairlifts is underway. Officials expect the process of updating physical name designations and corporatewide branding to be a multi-year project.
“Part of me is going to miss the old name,” Charles Carter told the California Globe news website. Carter worked as a parking attendant at the 1960 Olympics and has lived in the valley ever since. “If you ask anyone here, the name doesn’t matter so much as these mountains,” he said.
SKI ART: Tycho Ödberg (1865-1943)
Tycho Ödberg painting, 1928, from the
inside of an envelope.
Many years ago, while searching a catalog for old skiing-related postcards, I came across this 1928 painting by Tycho Ödberg, a Stockholm illustrator and graphic artist who was respected for his landscapes. In 1888, like many Scandinavian artists of his era, he made the trek to study at the Académie Julian in Paris. Upon his return, he was a regular at the Academy of Fine Arts in the Swedish capital from 1891 to 1897.
I was charmed by its direct and simplistic appeal to the joys of skiing in the winter landscape. To my amazement, it was an illustration on the inside of an envelope—the first I had ever seen. It was specially designed for seasonal greetings: Gott nytt år (Happy New Year). This was an extraordinary find: Not only does Ödberg portray correctly all the technical elements of skiing, but the context seems just right; a civilian-military mix that was partially responsible for the way modern skiing has developed.
More envelope art from Tycho Ödberg.
The catalog listed another Ödberg ski painting and it, too, was on the inside of an envelope. I acquired both items and used the skijoring painting as the cover for my book Culture and Sport of Skiing from Antiquity to World War I, the first time, I believe, it has been given any publicity.
Ödberg illustrated a number of books, including Viktor Balck’s Gymnastics in 1889, so he was no stranger to portraying sporting activities. This was impressive—Balck was Swedish sport’s “Trumpet of the Fatherland.” Ödberg also turned a number of his paintings into postcards, as many artists did in the 1920s and ’30s.
Ödberg works hang in the National Museum, Stockholm’s City Museum and City Hall, as well as in Uppsala and Gothenburg. For me, pride of place in my varied ski image collection are these two paintings on the insides of envelopes. —E. John B. Allen
Snapshots in Time
1956 Shrewd Planning
Sirs: I am returning the $3 two-year renewal form unsigned though I have always enjoyed reading your magazine. On Jan 22, I will be married to a girl with one year left on her subscription. — E.C.S., BUFFALO, NEW YORK, “HOME ECONOMICS” (LETTERS, SKI MAGAZINE, FEBRUARY 1956)
1969 Price Hike
An increase in price for lift tickets was announced yesterday for the state’s two ski areas, Cannon and Mt. Sunapee. The price for adult tickets at both areas on weekends was raised to $9. Weekday tickets were raised to $7. Season tickets were increased about 20 percent to $145. — “PRICES FOR SKI LIFTS RISE” (NEW YORK TIMES, SEPTEMBER 21, 1969)
1979 Fully Crazed
The gelande jumpers are a traveling gaggle of fully crazed ski addicts without a brain in their heads who party ’til sunrise and fly over the 50-yard-line on 223s without helmets or insurance. Oh, wait. They asked me not to write that. — DAN MCKAY, “LIKE A GOLF BALL” (POWDER MAGAZINE, OCTOBER 1979)
1988 Measuring Up
When in doubt, go shorter. One of the main advantages of today’s improved ski technology is that you can get the same smoothness and stability from a 203 that once was only possible on a 210. — JACKSON HOGEN, “THE RIGHT SKI LENGTH” (SNOW COUNTRY MAGAZINE, MARCH 1988)
2021 High Expectations
This is not science fiction. This is real Olympian life. Shiffrin is entering a World Cup alpine ski season that begins this weekend in Soelden, Austria. It will include her third Olympics, this one in February in Beijing. She is 26 and won gold at each of her previous Games—in the slalom as an 18-year-old in Sochi, Russia; and in the giant slalom four years later in PyeongChang, South Korea, where she added a silver in the alpine combined. Win three medals— a distinct possibility, if not an expectation—and she’ll match Janica Kostelic of Croatia and Anja Parson of Sweden with the most Olympic medals of any woman on the slopes. — BARRY SVRLUGA, “MIKAELA SHIFFRIN KNOWS PAIN AND LOSS. NOW SHE’S BACK ON TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN” (WASHINGTON POST, OCTOBER 21, 2021)
2021 Aging Well
When he set off down the mountain, he skied straight into a Guinness World Record. No one his age had ever done something like this. [Junior] Bounous was 95 years and 224 days old on April 5—230 days older than the existing heli-skiing record-holder, a Canadian named Gordon Precious, who checked in at 94 years 306 days when he made his run in 2019. It was an achievement for the ages, literally. — LEE BENSON, “PRESENTING THE WORLD’S OLDEST HELI-SKIER” (DESERET NEWS, JUNE 6, 2021)
