Skiing in America

       Loyal readers will recall a blog a few months ago, when I pointed out how nice Americans are. I am, as it turns out, an American, and so I really do like to be nice. I therefore didn't really want to start this blog, because I thought that I might come across as spoiled, ungrateful, complaining, and kind of not-nice. I especially don't want to come across as a ski snob. I'm not even that great a skier. I am not one of those people who schuss down the mountain with neat little turns, my skis perfectly parallel at all times. My family tells me that I am a slow skier, but I prefer to think of myself as "controlled." I think maybe, when people watch me ski, they might think things like, "Well, she might make it to the bottom in one piece." So I am certainly not a ski snob. (I'm not a snob about anything except for jam, and that is my mother's fault for being so talented in the kitchen.) With trepidation, however, I have decided to go ahead with the ski blog. So here are a few important disclaimers to preserve my niceness.

        First of all, whatever I say about skiing in America vs. Europe is purely my impression, based on my experiences and, as they say on Car Talk, unencumbered by the facts. Secondly, my experiences on the ski slopes are pretty limited. Our Christmas ski trip was to the Pocanos. I have never skied in Utah, Colorado, or Montana -- or even New Hampshire or Vermont -- all of which routinely make lists of the best places to ski in the U.S. (not to mention in the world). To be fair, however, most of my European ski experiences were not at world-renowned resorts, either. I have skied a few times in Chamonix, which makes most top-10 lists. Usually, though, we headed to the less ritzy French Jura, which someone might well term the Pocanos of Europe.

Here are our piles of ski clothes, ready for the trip. Skis and poles (and snowboard, as Luc
continually reminds me) are already in the car. There is nothing quite like packing for a ski vacation.

       Things That Were Better in Europe

       Okay, as nice as I want to be, I have to be honest. For a skiing purist, skiing in Europe is better. The snow in the Jura, and of course in the Alps, is real. I never heard of any resort in the Geneva area making snow. I never saw a snow cannon. This is, of course, because the elevation in the Jura is higher than in the Pocanos. At Col de la Faucille, where we usually skied, the telesiege started at 1,330 meters and went up from there. At Jack Frost, the highest point was 2,000 feet. The runs in France were much longer; even at the little resorts we frequented, I felt like it was a good day if I went up and down the hill six or eight times. In the Pocanos, I could do that in an hour. As soon as I felt like I was getting into a good rhythm, the hill was over. Strangely, the lifts seemed slower in Pennsylvania, though. I can't explain that one. I also don't necessarily consider that a drawback, as riding in the lift is a perfect opportunity for a chat with teenaged children or my husband, or for some quiet reflection and enjoying of the scenery. The last major drawback to skiing in the U.S. is the price. At around $40 - $50 per person, per day, we were not at expensive places, but in the Jura, we could ski for around 20 euros each, with kids after the first one free. Even places in the Alps were less than 40 euros a day, which I know is more than $50, but come on, it's the Alps. I did a check of prices at some of the premier resorts in America, and paying $100 for an 8-hour lift ticket wasn't unheard-of. To sum up, it seems that we were paying more for less in the Pocanos.

Skiing on man-made snow didn't seem that different from skiing on the "real" stuff. It did mean that the surrounding landscape wasn't quite as winter wonderland-y, though. That's Luc and Eric in the lift ahead of me.

        The price, I think, has to do with the place of the sport in the culture. In Geneva, the first question one gets asked as an expat is, "How long are you staying?" The next is, "Do you ski?" Everyone in Geneva skis. Babies, Octogenarians, people who live under bridges. With a steady stream of customers, resorts don't have to charge as much. And with the sport so pervasive in society, people won't put up with high prices. Maybe it also has to do with the cost of making snow in the U.S. That gets passed on to the skiers. Perhaps this also explains the relative skill level of skiers in each location. In the Jura, I felt  like the slopes were overrun with people who really didn't know how to ski. They were always falling right in front of me. Not being an incredibly skilled skier myself, I found this disconcerting. In the Pocanos, it seemed like most people on the slopes could ski pretty well. Except for the guy who barreled into me from behind, sending us both flying and earning a stern lecture from my husband (Eric is so nice that the guy probably didn't realize that Eric was being stern with him, but I can tell when my husband is angry). As a side public service announcement, the accident made me very glad that we had adopted the Swiss custom of always wearing ski helmets. But really, other than that guy, most people seemed competent. It's kind of like running in the U.S. versus Switzerland -- in the U.S., everyone runs, and so there are a lot of slow people out there (making me feel more comfortable with my own speed -- or lack of it). In Switzerland, only runners run, so recreational joggers like myself may well find ourselves in last place in a road race. 

That is Lucas under there.

Eric looking cool in mirrored goggles.

       Things That Are Better in America

       So in the Pocanos, we pay more and get less: Shorter runs, less snow, less beautiful scenery. It may sound like there is no upside to American skiing, but don't be so sure. Where we skied in France, hills were -- easiest to most difficult -- green, blue, red, and black. I never went on a black. They scared me. Frankly, even most reds made my heart palpitate. One day, we went to the Alps with friends who were the kind of people who have skied every weekend for decades. I spent the whole day in a cold sweat, failing to keep up. In the Pocanos, though, this was my favorite hill:

There's something to be said for the American "everyone's an expert" philosophy.

           

Of course, if everyone is an expert, then the people who are actually competent have to
be something even more expert.

       Another advantage to the American ski resort is the terrain park, which probably exists in Europe, but which I never saw. Lucas spent a whole day practicing spins and jumps; there were just a lot more options for snowboarders and trick skiers.

Approaching the jump.

This is the only decent picture I got after several tries. It's not easy to capture live-action with a cell-phone camera.

       And even though it's hard to beat the view of frosted treetops poking though the clouds at the top of Mont Rond in the Jura or the sight of Mont Blanc from Saint Gervais, the scenery in the Pocanos was really pretty.

The view from the top of the hill at Big Boulder, looking down on the lake and the town of Lake Harmony, I think.

    Finally, I found it reassuring that there was not a single place at Jack Frost or Big Boulder where a person could ski off the side of the mountain and die. That kind of thing is common in France -- even on green runs.

    I would be lying if I said that I didn't miss skiing in France. We could get up at 8, be on the slopes before 10, and do it again the next weekend. We had endless options for resorts, groups of friends to ski with, and some of the most breathtaking beauty in the world to gaze at as we rode the lifts (some people also enjoy the scenery as they descend the mountain. I, however, am focused on staying upright). For me, though, the best part about skiing is being outside, doing something active, and spending the day with the people I love most. For that, I don't need Kandahar. Mittelweg at Big Boulder in the Pocanos is just fine.

Happy skiers.

I made the kids give me a head start so I could reach the bottom of the hill first and take pictures.

I am embarrassed to tell you how long a head start they had to give me.