Scenes from the Road: Ramsau am Dachstein Edition

Ramsau am Dachstein in Pictures

For the second year in a row, I'm spending the last weeks of October with Team Sjusjoen in the Austrian mountain town of Ramsau. It's a tiny town about a half-hour outside Salzburg, Austria (think Mozart's hometown), but awell-traveled location in the cross-country ski world. This is for several reasons. The rolling valley offers great trails for both relaxed skiing and tough efforts on their World Cup courses. Full-pension hotels are everywhere here, and the price is reasonable (40-50 euros a night), especially so for European. And perhaps the most important reason - there's plentiful snow come wintertime. And, thanks to the Dachstein Glacier that sits up among the clouds in this picture, there's skiing year round.

The boys of Team Sjusjoen take a quick break near the end of an afternoon skate session on the glacier. After a pretty epic snowstorm - for October standards, anyways - the sun's back out, and the track is in incredible shape. We share the trails with perhaps 400 other skiers on the busy days. Riding the gondola up the thousand meters to the glacier is to hear more languages in a confined space than I've ever heard. It's almost like a UN conference of cross-country skiers. 

Yeah, it's worth the visit to Ramsau if you've ever thought of skiing Europe. The alpine skiing isn't too bad either. Schladming, which sits ten kilometers in the valley floor below, will be home to the 2013 World Championships in Alpine skiing. I'm sure the town will be absolutely off the hook. Much more than anything, Austrians love alpine skiing. 

This picture comes from a small hiking trail near our hotel, the Turlwandhutte, that sits right next to the gondola base. This makes getting the first ride to the glacier that leaves promptly at 7:50 a little easier.

Well, I guess that's all I have for you this time. I'm sure with a place like this, though, you'll hear (and see) a little bit more from me in the near future. Until then, Viel Spaß!

"The Nordic Weekend"

Every fall, Swiss Ski holds The Nordic Weekend in the mountain town of Andermatt. It's a three day, three race event that brings together 150+ skiers putting on the race bib, a coaches symposium, along with all the industry players to show off the latest equipment. Comparing it to America, I guess its like West Yellowstone on rollerskis.

The day before the races, Bettina fell ill. Fortunately Guri Hetland, the head coach of the Swiss Team, was heading over to the races the morning of the first race. I hopped a ride. We came over the Oberalp, a twisting, narrow uber-Euro style road you might have seen in the Giro d'Italia or Tour de Suisse and thought, "Roads like that really exist?"

We were not making good time to Andermatt in the region (Kanton) Uri. A tour bus was puttering up ahead. Guri gunned the VW Transporter, passed two Porsches, then went for the lumbering bus. Unfortunately, the road wasn't wide enough for us both. Fortunately, the bus and the Transporter lost little more than paint.

Way back in the 13th Century, the Uri Kanton was the first to break away and form the republic now known as Switzerland.

I was satisfied with the three days of racing. Perhaps more importantly, I really enjoyed competing. It was interesting to find yourself battling it out with similar faces day after day, and feeling a little comradery amongst your competitors. The stoke is pretty high to burn up the steep hills of Davos with Cologna, Kindschi, Livers and Company.  

                                                  

Afterwards, Bettina was feeling a little better and we met up in the Ticino region of Switzerland.  It's an amazing place, to be on the south side of the Alps beside lakes that trade in names like Lago Maggiore and Lago di Como.

Early morning we hiked in the seriously steep mountains, then headed down to the waterfront for lunch. While checking out the boats, we got invited out for a day sailing on the Celeste. Kind of the perfect ending to a long weekend I won't soon forget.

The end.  Until the next time.

New Beginnings with ITA

Just as my summer schooling and Canada training camp came to an end, the first days of hopping in Mr. Peck's classroom and a little running with the Kodiaks of Cascade commenced.

Probably few things are better for a high schooler than overnighting with your teammates. I joined the Kodiaks for their first annual team training camp along the shores of Lake Wenatchee. A family opened up their turn-of-the-century homestead for the team to call home. It was a sweet location, with fireroads and dirt trails around to run on, the lake nearby to cool off and relax besides. The team even had its own guest yogi, Tonja Renee Hall, who works with both the MLS Seattle Sounders and Seahawks of the National Football League.

Inside the classroom, my ITA mentor (and former 5th grade teacher, and running coach) Greg Peck is in his final year of teaching in the Cascade School District. I've bounced around a bit with where I've done all my In The Arena work - from Bend to the Methow Valley to running with Park City High last fall - but I've always put in several weeks a year with Mr. Peck, both in his 5th grade classroom, along with the teams he's coaching as the seasons change.

Already this year, the class has started on a couple sweet side projects. Every year I bring in a big duffel bag full of ski team and Olympic jackets for the kids to put on for an afternoon, and pose with their friends in class. Pictures are taken and developed, and the kids get a small momento. Every year, the class is totally into it.

Last year, a Seattle Seahawk gave the class a signed game jersey. Every Friday, a kid from class earns the right to wear the jersey. I can't believe I never thought of this myself. For this year, I gave the class my opening ceremonies wear from the Vancouver Olympics. Every Friday, the "Inspired Performance of the Week" puts the Ralph Lauren clothing that was gathering dust in the attic to use.

Mr. Peck's class this year has already wanted to know quite a bit about goal setting. From many years ago Mr. Peck remembers how I would write in my training log every day, logging how many laps around ski hill I'd put on the cross-country skis, or times I ran around the neighborhood on a Tuesday. Today, the notebook has been replaced by an Excel spreadsheet, but the process is the same.

The kids are doing their own outcome and goal setting, then hanging them from a young pear tree in class. I look forward to getting back there and seeing how this - and the year - are progressing.

For now, though, I just hopped a plane for Switzerland. This weekend, I headed up the Sertig Valley in Davos, then traded in the rollerskis for running shoes and ran to the top of Jakobshorn. It was a sweet little tour of the terrain outside the little city in the Alps. And if you were wondering, scenes like the one below exist beyond the marketing literature on Switzerland. If I could only get some of the orchard fruits in harvest I left behind...




Until the next time.

Scenes from the Road: Banff National Park Edition

After the better part of two weeks in Alberta, the Bridger Ski Foundation rounded up their super fleet of Sprinter Vans with forty junior skiers and headed back down south to Bozeman, Montana for the Sweetpea Celebrations back home. My partner in crime Bettina Gruber and I are still pretty stoked on the scene here in the Bow Valley, and had planned a three week training camp in and around the Banff National Park.

Hopefully some of my pictures do this place justice. As an athlete, I've had the opportunity to trot to more than a few outposts around the globe. And from the first time I came to Canmore as a freshman Ute with the college ski team, the place has been high on my list of ideal towns. It's little wonder the place is a little Canadian mecca for skiing. It's got mountains for running, soft pine needle-laden trails for more flatland jogs, amazing roads for rollerskiing, a rollerski track, Olympic history (from Calgary '88) and a culture for the sport.



You also run into more than your fair share of wildlife. Fortunately, none of the encounters have been even close to the existential variety. Though from what I hear from the locals, I might have to put a Yet into that sentence.



Except for the occasional black fly, or swarm of misquito. After a 70km double pole rollerski to the shores of Lake Louise, it seems the bugs found me mighty tasty pretty quickly.

Maybe here you can get a sense of what I mean by picture-worthy shot of a little-traveled ashphalt road. Or maybe its just a cross-country skier coming from the city kind of thing.



Until the next time, goodbye.

On the Road Again with Bridger SF

With the summer's heat coming to the city, the last couple weeks I started spending a bit of time paddleboarding the Great Salt Lake. It's been interesting to get to know one of the world's most extreme ecosystems a bit better, and a very underused one at that. It's really true, you can just bob along in the salty, briny water left from the ancient Lake Bonneville.

On my last night in Salt Lake there was a little electricity in the air. It might have had something to do with Albert, an old college teammate, calling my living room home for a night before the DesNews Marathon. He put down a 2:40, though I think he was hoping for more. Mr. Wint wants to toe the line at the next U.S. Olympic Trials. I sure hope he makes it.

After the marathon, I packed up the apartment as quickly as I could.  The time has come to say goodbye to Utah, until U.S. Nationals in January, and perhaps just as importantly, in May when I start back up on the graduate studies. Could I have just one semester before sporting the degree? That would be nice...

Anyways, back to the present day. After packing up, it was time to hit the road and join the Bridger Ski  Team in the Canadian Rockies. For over a decade the club comes up to Canmore for a late summer training camp. After putting in 935 solo miles, I rolled into the Alberta town a little groggy and out of it, only to find out the Banff hill climb awaited next morning. Good times. And loving it. 

Anchor's Down: A Book

With it being finals week here at Westminster College, perhaps a little book reading is in order for us all.

Anchor's Down by Torin Koos | Make Your Own Book

Until the next time, -T*

Canyon Country, Utah

With the weekend came my chance of escape. If not from the summer's triple-digit heat, from the city, from the daily routine, for the rock and sand and serpentine labyrinth of Utah's canyon country.

My two compatriots for the trip were Tony & Louie Ronzoni. Here we trade in stories as we make our way down, down, down, the White Canyon in Utah's Emery County.

At the depths of the White Canyon, the walls reach ever-higher as the slot canyon walls narrow to little more than my body's width. Wind rushes through. Pools of water eleven feet deep stand from another day's flash flood. It's a mandatory splash and swim endeavor through sections like these.

After two nights, two days, and three canyons it's time to head back up north. We wind our way up through Highway 6, by the watermelon farms of Green River, beside the train tracks of Helper, Utah (named for the extra locomotive engines needed to lead the freight headed up Price Canyon to the peak at Soldier Summit). Here, the sky turned dark, mean, and red. It was the kind of sky where you could stare straight into the sun. We drove down the old-main drag of Helper. It's a mostly forgotten place, though with much of the charm left in tact. Filling up with gas across from the boarded up Piggly Wiggly and liqour store I catch the conversation of two Carbon County locals.

   "Wonder when dis forest fire's gonna clean up?"

   "Sheet, maybe it'll burn it all down and den it'll all be built up better den before."

    Half a minute passes. The second one continues, after pulling a fresh pack of Marlboros from a   carton, and lighting up.

  "I don't mind it none. The way we smoke and the way we'd a worked, dis don't do nothing to me." 

  "Yeah, I reckon yer right."

   Coal miners, they are a hardy breed.


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 Finally, I have to give my props to the ITA Athletes putting it all on the line for the opportunity to make it to London and represent themselves and the USA at the Olympics. Your stories and your grit are something to be much admired. Bonne Chapeau.