Yesterday I spent the morning at Ski Santa Fe, not skiing hard, not skiing long, but just skiing. And as I rode the chairlift up, I had that swelling in my heart, like the first (or second, or third) time I fell in love. At first I thought it was the altitude making my heart beat faster, and of course that may have contributed to the breathlessness. I had to stop to catch my breath a couple times getting myself and my skis up to the chalet. But I think it was love.

The great movie maker Warren Miller tried to describe the indescribable—why he skied. In the end he just said, “Because it’s fun.”

But isn’t fun the end result? What are the elements that creates the fun?

The Challenge

I am not as good a skier as I would like to be. Nor am I as good as I think a person who skis as much as I should be. It is that carrot I chase—to continuously improve. Of course some would say I am a good skier. Some would say I am expert. Before my hip replacement and my torn gastrocnemius, I would have self-assessed myself in the expert category. Yet here I am, thinking about how I should be better, where I can improve.

That’s what I love about the sport. I thrive on the challenge. It’s fun to ski the green and blue groomers but I long to look good on the steeps and moguls. I understand that there are physical limitations, especially as I become “elderly”. But a person can dream, and that’s what I do all the time skiing.

The Physicality

I like how I feel when and after I ski. It’s the tired feeling all over my body. It’s discovering muscles I didn’t know existed (like the gastrocnemius). Some would say that’s because I’m not in good enough shape, and there’s truth to that, but it is also pushing myself to the edge and back that feels good.

I like feeling like a tomboy and keeping up with the guys. I like feeling like a tomboy and keeping up with my Skijourn Sisters. When my kids were little, I didn’t tell my daughter she was pretty or cute, even though I thought she was. I told her she was strong. That was the biggest compliment I could give. Strong physically can translate to being strong internally. I like to believe that when we are physically strong, we are strong of heart, mind and soul.

The Mountains

I have spent my lifetime longing for the mountains. Growing up in Hardin, Montana, I thought I lived in the flatlands. Our town was nestled in the Big Horn River and the Little Big Horn River valleys, with the Pryor and Big Horn mountains to the south and southwest.  Pine Ridge was due west. Even so, I never considered myself living in the mountains. Those people lived in Red Lodge or Bozeman or Kalispell. I would gaze at the mountains while moving irrigation tubes on leveled fields in our river valley, wondering what the Little Big Horn River canyon must be like, the evening sun glinting off the west facing ridge, or what it must be like standing on the north facing slope of the Big Horn Mountains. As I was looking south at the mountains, I wondered, Could a person on the mountain see me down in the river valley?

Then I spent 40 years in the Midwest, first in Iowa and then in Minnesota. Flat? I thought Montana was flat, the Midwest was where flat was invented. There are many redeeming factors to the Midwest. They have the best farm ground in the world. Minnesota is truly the land of 10,000 lakes. It is very green in the summer and very white in the winter. Living in the Midwest made me realize that in comparison, I had grown up in the mountains. I had lived in rough, arid, irrigated river valley land. I grew up in the Wild West.

A few years ago when the option of moving became a reality, I thought of all the places I would like to live, and then I thought of the places I could afford. This mental exercise happened during Covid, and people were fleeing the cities and working remotely. I was not the only person entranced by the mountains. Ski towns across the Rockies experienced an unprecedented increase in home values. Sales went out of the roof. I was blocked out of the markets by the rising cost of real estate. Colorado, Utah, California, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho home prices skyrocketed.

And then there was Santa Fe. Santa Fe checked all the boxes and more. It was in the mountains. Skiing only 45 minutes away. Long vistas. Prices were high, but not astronomical compared to the ski towns I had considered. Santa Fe also met my yearning for learning with lectures, music and art abounding. Like my childhood home in Montana, Santa Fe had the Hispanic and Native peoples in addition to the European Americans. And it was a small city less than 100,000 people in the metro area. It was like Billings, Montana without Lockwood or the Heights.

Then there were the mountains around Santa Fe. At the south end of the Sangre de Christo range, Santa Fe is nestled in the foothills.

The mountains called me, Santa Fe answered. And here I am. Door to lift line 60 minutes away.

The People

Some say people are the same everywhere, but I am not sure that’s true. Or perhaps people are the same, but circumstances and how we respond to those situations make us different. I have found people are friendly overall, but local ski people are intensely friendly.  

Ski people, not necessarily the one family vacation family types but passionate skiers. That’s who I gravitate towards.  I also gravitate to those people who ski whether there are other people or not. Like me. I can ski by myself and have a great time, but when I can share it with people as into it as I am it is more fun. So when I say the people are friendly, I mean ski people are FRIENDLY.

The last trip to Ski Santa Fe is a great example. I sat at the end of a picnic table where several people were already sitting. I thought at first I was intruding as one in the group didn’t seem too nice. But one thing led to another, and the next thing I knew I found out they were part of the Newcomers Club and they were telling me all about the activities they participate in. They gave me the website and I am now a member of the Santa Fe Newcomers Club.  Go figure.

Like a snowball, I have gathered ski friends across the West. We are a special club who welcome anyone.

The Gear

I have always had a fascination with ski and snowboard gear. From boots, skis and snowboards to the jackets and pants. I like ski shops and chalets. I like the log beams, mountain vistas, chairlifts and magic carpets. It’s weird, I know. But I have always had this fascination.

I like the “look” of skiing. In the old days skis were blue or red or black. Just like ski jackets were blue, red or black, or some combination of the three. There are still people skiing in those three basic colors, but there’s been a cacophony of color and designs on both the outerwear and skis. It is like artists have been let out of their igloos and their work has moved from paintings on the walls to ski top sheets to jackets and pants. I know for a fact this is true because on one of my sojourns I met Lynn Harrison who paints and created sportswear from her paintings. Alchemy of Ride. Fabulous.

These five elements make me happy. They create the fun. They make me grateful and humble. I have learned in order to get you have to give. I have gotten so much out of skiing and the snow sports industry I hope I have been able to give back, through writing, working as a boot fitter and equipment sales associate at the Vail Resorts retail store Hoigaards in Minnesota, teaching skiing and snowboarding for the past 25 years, and in the future perhaps teaching at Ski Santa Fe.

I figure if I play my cards right and take care of the old body, I have 5-10 years of skiing left in me. That’s ok. My mom thought I should quit at 50, and I have long blown by that number. Every year is a gift at this point.

 Let it snow!