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Stoumen and Benny having a drunken wrestling match in the snow.
Sam's First Ski-Biking Lesson:
Let
me be frank, I’m just a little apprehensive. I’m thirty years old,
can’t snowboard for the life of me, and although I grew up on skis, it’s been five years since I’ve taken
them out of the attic.
“Are you sure this is for me?” I ask Matt as he unlocks a Turner, DH Racer from his van’s roof rack. “Can you ride a bike?” he asks me without breaking his focus. “Well, yeah…” Matt hops off the van, pulls the bike down and hands it to me. “Then you can ride a ski-bike. Let’s go.”
I
scramble to keep up with Matt as he heads towards the mountain. “Wait…
how do I get on the lift?” “How do I stop?” “I’m not a kid anymore…” “What
if I crash?” “How do I slow down?” “I don’t know if I should be doing this…”
Despite my protests, Matt continues marching across the parking lot, and before I can come up with another excuse for
why I shouldn’t be doing this, I find myself marching right along side him to the base of Sierra, Turner in hand.
At the entrance to the lift line, Matt takes the Turner out of my hands and stands it on the ground next to his ST-3. “Try sitting on both of these and see which one you think is more comfortable.” I sit on the bikes. The suspension feels
great on both, but the gel seat that Hanson put on the Turner seems a bit cushier. Wait,
I’m supposed to be thinking about all my ski-biking fears, not comparing seat comfort ability. “I’ll take the Turner. It feels a little more
comfortable.” “All right, let’s start you on this one. Most people who ride the Turner for the first time really like it, but you’ll
have to see for yourself how they handle on the mountain. Next run we’ll
switch and you can tell me which one rides better.” We get in line for
the lift, my fears replaced by the desire to discover which bike is better than the other.
Nice trick, Hanson.
The seat loops around
and scoops up some of the beginner boarders ahead of us. We’re almost up. “Okay,” says Matt, patting my bike seat.
“Hop on and do exactly as I do.” I hop on the Turner, feet
planted firmly on the ground, and wait our turn. As soon as the next seat clears
our path to collect the pair in front of us, we push off and glide our bikes to the red line.
I’m petrified. I’m about to get on the lift to the bunny hill
and I’m absolutely petrified. I haven’t felt this way since I was
six years old and was first learning to ski.
“When the seat comes around, just stand up, push the bike forward a little and sit down on the lift. Keep one hand on the bike’s handle bars and one hand on the frame and it’ll
lift right up with you.”
This basically
goes in one ear and out the other, so when the seat comes around I just copy everything Matt does and don’t even bother
to try and remember what he said. Up we go.
Matt brings the lift bar down and shows me how to hook my bike seat over the bar and then secure it with the safety
strap. I’m no longer petrified, but giddy.
I’m a kid again, riding the lift for first time and playing monkey see, monkey do. Next time somebody says you can’t, I’m going to say you’re wrong. You can too teach an old dog new tricks.
“Congratulations,”
says Hanson. “You’ve successfully learned how to get the ski-bike
on the lift, but this is only the first part of your lesson.” Don’t
remind me. I see the top of the lift fast approaching. I don’t suppose they’ll stop it for me and let me walk my bike off gracefully? “They’re not going to slow the lift down for you,” says Hanson as if he can read my mind
(pretty obvious that it’s not his first barbeque,) “so here’s what you do:
unlatch your safety strap just before we get to the top, keeping one hand on the frame at all times. Then just before we get to the top, unhook your bike seat and I’ll raise the bar. Keep the front ski angled up, with your free hand on the handle bar, and when we get to the top of the
mound, plant the bike down just a little in front of you and hop onto your bike seat and ride away.”
“Easier said than done!” I snap at him, realizing
very quickly that it makes no difference what I say. The unloading mound is two
seats ahead of us and Hanson already has his safety strap unlatched and is helping me with mine. I push his hand away. If I’m going to do this, I’m
going to do it without assistance, thank you very much. I get my strap undone
just in time and we lift up our bike seats and raise the bar. I angle the front
of my bike up just like Matt’s and as soon as the mound approaches our feet, the Turner just naturally engages with
the snow and glides in front of me. As soon as I can stand up, I run with the
bike right off the mound and stop when I think I’m safely out of the way.
Okay, so I’m not as graceful
as Hanson, who jumps right onto his seat and rides off with both feet on the foot pegs, but I did it! And it was easier done than said, not the other way around. When
learning how to ski-bike without foot skis, don’t bother with the oral exam, just get on the lift and do it. Even Hanson, who taught skiing and snowboarding for five years, says he hasn’t quite figured out
the best way to “teach” ski-biking. Partly because it’s a new
sport, and partly because it’s so intuitive.
“You can tell someone how
to get on and off the lift, but they’re not going to get it until they actually do it.
And as for getting down the mountain, it’s just like riding a bike. How
do you tell someone how to ride a bike? You just keep getting back up until you’ve
learned how to balance yourself. Ski-biking is the same thing.” Obviously then, you’ve already got a head start in learning how to ski-bike if you know how to ride
a bike. We’ve all been through the tricycle, the training wheels, the countless
knee scrapes; now let us on that soft, white corduroy.
There are some
fundamental differences, however, between the two sports that warrant fresh instruction.
Here’s a big one: when biking in the snow, you don’t have brakes.
And contrary to what many would assume, you don’t turn by using the handlebars.
Hanson understands these differences and believes that one half hour lesson should be mandatory for any novice, no
matter what their athletic ability.
This then is my half hour lesson. I am beyond skeptical that I’m going
to learn how to ski-bike in just thirty minutes. I tried snowboarding for two
full days and still can’t stand up. But Matt is persistent. “Just one run down this bunny hill and you’ll be a champ.”
Samantha Staley, a champ. Yeah, right.
“Okay,
try to follow in my tracks.” Matt points the ST-3 down the hill. “Just
lean a little to one side when you want to turn. You can extend your left foot
in the snow to help your bike pivot to the left, and vice versa for the right. The
skis will naturally carve. You’ll see.” Matt digs his feet into the ground to propel his bike forward then brings both feet up on the pegs. He glides part way down the hill and then effortlessly carves to the left with a gentle
lean of the bike. His tracks make a giant curve in the snow that comes to a stop
where he angles slightly uphill.
Peace of cake. I follow suit, but find that my feet are unwilling to leave the ground. It is just too easy to have my boots dragging, keeping my pace slow and my bike balanced. I stay pretty much in Hanson’s tracks, but I can’t say I look nearly as graceful, with the
heels of my boots digging in the snow.
Matt
laughs. “That’s a good start.
You can certainly keep your feet down as much as you want. You can even
use your feet to stop, but the proper way is by carving the skis. What you want
to learn, especially if you’re going fast, is the hockey stop.” Matt demonstrates this maneuver with ease. Get going fast, then turn the
handle bars sharply in either direction and kick out the back so you wedge the bike sideways into the mountain.
No problema. Feeling maybe a little too cocky,
I race down past him and try to pull a hockey stop. Well, I stopped all right. Right into the snow, face down. Hanson,
who also used to be an E.M.T., quickly makes sure that nothing’s broken before setting me back up on the Turner. I’m feeling frustrated to say the least.
I mean, the bunny hill? Matt assures me.
“Almost everybody falls their first time. You just got to get back
up and try again. You’ll get the hang of it, don’t worry.”
And
get the hang of it, I did. By the time we reached the bottom of the bunny hill,
I was gliding, pivoting, and stopping fairly effortlessly, but don’t expect me to do a one handed can can or a heel
clicker. Maybe by the time ski-biking gains the popularity of snowboarding, I’ll
be able to show off a tail-whip and a superman seat-grab. But don’t hold
your breath.
For now, I’m
just happy to feel the wind in my hair and breeze down a white, powdery mountain with effortless ease. And to finally be free of those clunky ski boots! Slip on your Sorels, Duck boots, Ugg boots, whatever
you’ve got in the closet, and buy, borrow, rent, or grab whatever bike you’ve got laying around in the garage. This is truly a “one size fits all” snow sport that anyone can do. Oh, and
which bike is better? The ST-3 or the Turner? Hard to say, I took the Enduro down Sugar-n-Spice and had as much fun as I did on the Turner. Maybe a trick BMX rider would be better to answer that question.
All I know is, if I could get my hands on either of these bikes, I’ll let the best of them call me a champ. Even if I don’t ski-bike like one, I’ll certainly look like one.
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