‘Tis the Season
Olympic season, that is.
When last we met there were tales of harrowing car rides up the side of a Russian mountain.
I have traded those in for harrowing ski rides down the side of the Rockies.
I’ve been traveling this week gathering video, photos and interviews for our customary Olympic preview.
Tuesday: Copper Mountain, Colorado
Assignment: Spend the day with Ted Ligety, No.1-ranked giant slalom skier in the world
Note to self: Do not embarrass and/or injure yourself on the slopes. (Spoiler alert: I succeeded in only one of those.)
This day with Ted was months in the making. Email and phone requests through the US Ski team; settling on dates when Ted would be training GS and finally getting permission from Copper Mtn. to shoot on their slopes. And, oh, filling out the injury waivers. Slipped into one of those emails from the woman at Copper was this little nugget: “Everyone must be an advanced skier”. Did I just mention that this was months in the making? I’ll be damned if I’m not an advanced skier.
We were filming Ted’s GS training so, really, how high would I have to go on the lifts to get into position? (In order of highest altitude to lowest, the Alpine disciplines are downhill, super G, giant slalom (GS) and slalom.) Little did I know that there is one lift at the US Ski Team Speed Center and it goes all the way to the top — 12,000 oxygen-free feet up Copper Mtn!
And one would think that at least the ride up the lift would be event-free.
One would think.
We arrive before sunrise (important detail) to get up the mountain and in position before the ski team begins training. Other than the slope groomers and guys setting the course, we would be the first on the chair lifts (important detail No.2).
As I am approaching the chair with three others, two videographers and the “advanced skier” email lady, I notice that the chairs aren’t very deep. That backpack I am wearing is not only filled with 50 pounds of camera equipment, it is also about a foot thick.
“Maybe I should wear that in front of me”, I say to myself. “Oh well, too late, here’s the chair.”
So I sit down and soon realize that the backpack is leaving me about four inches of the chair. And the chair is covered in frost and I am wearing slick, waterproof snow pants. It becomes immediately clear that I will not be on this moving chair for very long. In super-slow motion I feel myself sliding forward until I reach the point of no return. My 50-pound backpack and I do a face plant off the chair and right into the snow.
Body parts, ok; Ego, crushed to smithereens.
The chair operators stop the chair, help me up and put me on another chair. Alone with my humiliating thoughts, I take the very long ride to the top. There is, however, a stunning and peculiar sunrise, of which there is a picture.
When we get off the lift our media guide points out the start of the downhill — below us!
This might be a good time to let you know that I haven’t skied in nearly 30 years. Now I’m faced with double-diamonds, not once, but four times, twice with a fifty pound backpack. Down part of the downhill, all of the super G and halfway down the GS to get into our position. I have a few extra pounds of my own since I last skied, I do not need the extra 50 on my back. My legs spent what felt like an eternity fighting gravity and they are never going to forgive me. And my lungs? They just give up. Thin air is not the word for it. Anorexic maybe.
I know I am about to die but it is a beautiful place so I am kind of at peace with it.
Finally, I find a suitable spot for us to shoot Ted — a good angle to see him navigate a few gates and not so terribly steep that every piece of equipment you put down would end up at the bottom of Copper. And on that leg-burning, oxygen deprived journey, only twice do I bite the dust, but at least not in a head-over-skis, snow-spraying-everywhere, agony-of-defeat kind of way.
Ultimately we get into position and film Ted doing his thing: flying nearly horizontally around gates at supersonic speed.
It is a gorgeous day on a beautiful mountain and I am finally getting Ted on skis, so the sting of my embarrassment slowly fades.
After lunch we interview Ted, who, with the help of the slow-motion video we took, explains in great detail how it is that he is winning GS races by a full second or more when the usual margins of victory are fractions of a second.
And that, my friends, made it all worth it: an explanation in his own words and video and photos to illustrate it.
And later that night, this Instagram from Ted to his 40,000 followers: http://instagram.com/p/hMpbRIJS0K/
Wednesday: Vail, Colorado
Assignment: Get video of Mikaela Shiffrin, rising star in slalom. (If you haven’t heard of her, you will)
Note to self: Thankfully, there will be little treacherous skiing.
I find out late Tuesday night that Mikaela has cancelled her slalom training for the rest of the week. This is not a total disaster because my main goal was to get Ted. But I figure while I am here I will try to get Mikaela. She is young and very much insulated but I manage to get the necessary permissions (and sign the necessary waivers). But in the end, no Mikaela.
Now what?
I’m not going skiing!
I tell Alex Garcia, a NYT videographer, about the strange world of ski technicians. Cave dwellers, really, who spend countless hours in their makeshift workrooms tuning and retuning skis for the racers. They usually build plywood shacks in the parking garages of their ski team’s hotel.
That is where we find Ales Sopotnik. Ales (pronounced a-LESH) is the tuner for Leanne Smith of the U.S. women’s team. As we film away, Ales, describes the laborious process of tuning skis: Dozens of layers of wax, ironed on, scraped and buffed; the metal edges of skis, ground with a diamond file to razor sharpness and just the right angle for that skier.
One pair of skis? About five hours.
I make the mistake of asking Ales if he goes up to the start house with Leanne.
“Yes”, he says in his Eastern European accent, “Come up tomorrow for the downhill training run.”
He tells me to go see the head coach of the women’s ski team to get a pass. The coach comes back with a credential that says I am member of the U.S Ski Team.
Clearly they saw me ski the day before.
Thursday: Beaver Creek, Colorado
Assignment: Get video of Ales and Leanne at the start house of the downhill
Note to self: Get there early and don’t fall off the lift.
I ride the lift without incident to what I believe is the top of the mountain. I ride with a skier from the Italian team who says that this course is relentless and that she is scared to death from the time she starts to the finish line.
I don’t tell her that chairlifts now frighten me.
When I get off I ask a volunteer where the start house is. He checks my credential, yes, I am a member of the US Ski Team. He then points to a group of guys with snowmobiles. They will take me the final 500 feet to the summit.
Awesome view.
Very cool.
At some point I will have to ski down from here.
Friday: Beaver Creek, Colorado
Assignment: Go to the World Cup DH race
Note to self: Don’t bring skis with you
The Americans had done well in the training runs but falter on race day. Alice Cook is the top U.S. finisher at 19th. Leanne skis well until just before the finish where she crashes going 75 m.p.h. She is shaken but not hurt.
The rest of my day is spent organizing and editing video and writing this blog. My biggest concern is whether to tell you all about my face plant.
You would never find out.
This damn blog!
Saturday: Vail, Colorado
Assignment: Post blog, pack up and drive six and a half hours to Salt Lake City for the short track speed skaters.
Note to self: More ice ahead at the Olympic Oval in SLC; limit blog fodder.
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- On the lift at sunrise
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- George and Stephanie on top of Copper
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- Who stole the oxygen
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- Scouting for a spot with George.
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- Checking the shot on the high-speed cam
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- Ted at the start
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- Ted’s GS turn
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- Ales in the tuning room
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- Alex shoots Ales melting wax.
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- Downhill start house
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- My friend Al, a bit of a know-it-all.
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- My Thanksgiving Sauerbraten
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- shooting the finish of the DH
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- For my nephew Ed
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- shooting the finish of the DH
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- My Thanksgiving Sauerbraten
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- My friend Al, a bit of a know-it-all.
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- Alex shoots Ales melting wax.
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- For my nephew Ed
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- Downhill start house
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- Ales in the tuning room
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- Who stole the oxygen
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- George and Stephanie on top of Copper
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- Scouting for a spot with George.
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- Checking the shot on the high-speed cam
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- Ted’s GS turn
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- Ted at the start
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- On the lift at sunrise
11 Comments
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Eat at Joe’s 
Joseph, you are brilliant! As you know, sadly, I live alone and I am here laughing out loud. Not at your brushes with death but at your wonderful, skillful use of words. I’m so happy that Downton Abbey and your blog will get us through the winter. With love from Suzette of the Snows
Joey,
Thank goodness for the blog, otherwise we’d never know what really happens out there.
So which events are you competing in, in Sochi??
Snort worthily hilarious!
At least no chair lifts needed to film speed skaters?
Maybe stick to this type, Joe.
Hope you all had a great Thanksgiving!
Hey, i don’t see a 50-pound backpack on that kitty!
Well, I’m glad we never got that phone call from EMS that there had been a skiing accident!! You go to great lengths to get your job done! (or great heights)
OMG! So funny, Joe. The visual image of you and your backpack, sliding off the chair! Laughing out loud. No video of you on skis? That’s some life you are leading!
Bahahaha, if only someone had gotten a video of that. I mean, if you were will to tell us of this incident, maybe you would have shown us, too?!?! Sounds like an overall successful trip! Can’t wait to hear more!
Hi Joe,
Hope you are okay after the fall. Thanks for the great shots and commentary, and we are there!!
Best,
Dawn
Have a great trip home! #2 sister
We are weeping with laughter from your latest adventures. Can’t wait for Sochi!