On Mon, 19 Jan 2015 08:20:01 -0800 (PST), Richard Henry
wrote this crap:

On Sunday, January 18, 2015 at 9:06:12 PM UTC-8, wrote:
On Sun, 18 Jan 2015 14:03:55 -0800 (PST), Richard Henry
wrote this crap:

I learned to ski in my Dad's WWII Army Air Force officer's wool trousers
- he called them his "pinks." Mom shortened the legs and I was good to
go. Fit like another popular WWII era item - the Zoot Suit.

Only major purchase in the early years was $5 for a set of (wood, of
course) army surplus skis, too-big leather boots with a fancy in-seem
leather strap, and bamboo poles.

A character building experience.

The year I skied at Tuckerman Ravine (1968?) with my brother,
my gear was second-hand double lace-up boots, 208 cm Toni Sailer
Fiberglas downhill skis (that I got for Summer clearance price in the
Slalom factory store in Newport), fitted with Marker Rotomats and
long thong bindings (that I found in a little sports shop in Potsdam,
NY,) wool-blend pants and a factory-second Slalom parka.
I realized after the trip that kicking steps into the headwall was
starting to delaminate the layers of leather that made up the sole of the boots.



Such luxury. We made our own skis. We screwed old high top tennis
shoes to the skis, no bindings. We brought our own food because we
couldn't afford to pay for it, and they didn't sell hot food. Lifts
were all rope tows. The lodge was a shack with a fireplace, which was
built by the owners themselves in the off season. There was no bar,
everyone brought a bottle of booze and we shared.
It must be nice to have lived such a life of privilege.


Well, its time for my piano practice. The piano room is too cold so I
guess I'll practice on the grand piano in the living room.


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There were no lift lines at Tuckerman's. There were also no lifts.
The accommodations were a handful of open-front lean-to
shelters scattered through the woods - bring your own sleeping bag.
There was a small warming shelter wryly called Hojo's after the Howard
Johnson's restaurants found all around New England. There was a
separate cookshack with coin-operated gas stoves. A quarter would
just about boil a pot of water. The parking lot was 2 miles down a
trail cut through the woods in the style of the 30's - about two skiers
wide. We were lucky on our trip - there was snow all the way down
on our trip out after a couple of days playing in the bowls.

You had stoves? You had quarters? You had sleeping bags? I could
never have imagined such luxury!


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power in the universe