Cooking skier-ke-bobs in class |

Cooking skier-ke-bobs in class

Compiled by Allen R. Smith

During the height of our winter season, our small, local ski areas have over a thousand students showing up every afternoon between 3 p.m. and 7 p.m. As a result, the classes are crammed into a tiny area along the bottom of the mountain.In the early days, it wasn’t unusual for instructors and students to get hit by out-of-control skiers and other fast-moving projectiles.One day, our ski school director observed an instructor teaching his class in a rather unorthodox stance. While standing in front of the children, the instructor braced the grip of his uphill pole against his hip while aiming the shaft and tip uphill, away from his body.When the director asked what he was doing, the instructor said, “I’m tired of getting run over. The next guy heading my way will have to go through 50-inches of ski pole before he hits me.”The director persuaded him to cease this practice when he noticed all of the students in the same stance.- Ott Gangl, Boston Mills, OhioFast times on Chairlift OneBack in the 1960s when the Vail Valley was in its infancy, competition was especially keen amongst the men for the opposite sex. They would go to any lengths to win the hearts of the ladies, even if it meant sabotaging the efforts of other suitors.One day, I was assigned to an all-day, private lesson with a very attractive divorcee. After introductions were exchanged, we shuffled over to Chair 1.Being an older very slow, double chairlift, I imagined that we would have plenty of time to get to know each other on rides up the mountain.On the first trip up, the young lady and I became deeply enamored with each other, all but ignoring the rest of the world. As we approached the top of the lift, the lady had the wherewithal to stand up and unload the lift. I, on the other hand, kept right on talking.The lift operator – and one of my friendly competitors – was watching all this happen and saw an opportunity to make his move. As soon as the young lady slid off of the lift, he blocked my exit and then swung the chair around the bull wheel, sending me back down to the village.As the lift carried me back towards the bottom, I heard my “friend” say to the woman, “Excuse me, but Karl had to go back down to the village. Why don’t you let me help you with those big, heavy skis…”- Karl Hochtl, VailVail, Colorado

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