New Thing #35 - Perfect North...sort of

I went skiing today for the first time at a place called Perfect North in Indiana. While it was fun, I was definitely less than perfect. First, I have to give a shout out to my best friend Meredith. I traveled to Indianapolis this weekend to see her for her birthday, so that's where the idea came from. Happy Birthday Mere! Meredith has been skiing for many years, so she's a pro at it. Me, not so much.

First, Perfect North is a man-made slope in Lawrenceburg, Indiana. It's about an hour and a half southeast of Indianapolis close to the Ohio and Kentucky borders. Since Indiana obviously doesn't have continual snow in the winter, they have to make their own snow. It's still made from water, so it's not synthetic or anything, but the process itself sounds pretty cool. Based on their website, here's how it works. "The process begins at our pump house, which draws water from our lake. All that cold water is pumped through hundreds of feet of snow making pipe, straight to our snow guns. As the water arrives at the gun, it is pushed through small nozzles on the ends of the barrel of the gun, and blown into the air to freeze by high powered fans. This produces large piles, or whales of snow on the ground. To make snow the air temperature needs needs to be 28 or colder, but may vary based on the humidity. As temperatures and humidity rise, the amount of water needs to be decreased in order to create a dry, fluffy quality of snow. Snow can be efficiently made at a temperature and humidity factor not exceeding 100, and at temperatures up to 36 degrees Fahrenheit." Who knew you could make your own snow?

I know there is a man-made slope here in St. Louis, but I've just never gone. For obvious reasons. Including the fact that I've never had any proper skiing apparel. This was accomplished this year by some strategic sales at REI and some help from my friend who works there. I came away with some long underwear, ski pants, a thermal vest, a fleece jacket, an outer waterproof jacket and ski socks. I was able to get all of that for a very reasonable price, especially considering their original costs. Meredith completed the ensemble by lending me a nice hat, a neck warmer and her waterproof gloves. I was one stylish ski bum.

It was pretty funny when we got close to the slopes because all we could see was brown. Brown trees, brown grass, brown dirt. For awhile we thought we were going in the wrong direction. We were getting close to where we thought we were supposed to be, but we couldn't see anything white. Then the slopes came into full view and it was a sight to see. For me at least. I've never been to a ski slope before, real or man-made, so it was pretty cool. Especially since the slopes stuck out like a sore thumb in all that bland brownness.



A view of the slopes from the car.


The center white strip of snow is the Center Stage course, one of the more difficult courses.

Meredith owns her own skis and ski boots, but I obviously had to rent mine. We also had to purchase our lift tickets/admission, so we headed straight to the ticket counter. I decided to buy the package that included the admission worth 8 hours of ski time, ski rental and one hour beginner lesson. After the day was over, Meredith and I decided that was the best decision to make, because if she had attempted to teach me, we would have ended up scratching each other's eyes out. I know she would have been a fine teacher, but I wasn't the most apt pupil. I decided to test the patience of a perfect stranger than that of my best friend.

Now that the money was exchanged, we headed into the rental area to pick up my stuff. I had a form to fill out that included my name, address, weight and height. I also had to check a box stating that I was a first time skiier. I assumed that would notify them that I needed extra special help. I assumed wrong. I handed my form to the 16 year old girl behind the counter, and she stamped it and handed it right back to me. She continued talking to her little friends while I just stared at her. I had no idea what to do next. So, I asked her, "now what do I do?" She gave me "the look" that all teenagers give to anyone older than two decades and said, "go pick out your boots." WTF? I knew that, but how was I supposed to know which boots to get. So, Meredith came to the rescue at that point. If she hadn't been there, I suppose I could have asked one of the little hoodlums running around, but they didn't really look particularly helpful. We decided to start with a boot the same as my shoe size. There aren't any men's and women's, they're all unisex, so I wasn't sure if a 9 would work. I wear a 9 in women's and a 7 in men's, but at least it was a place to start.

The boots were all hanging on racks in the designated size area, but it took a minute or so to figure out the left ones from the right. They don't say it on the boot anywhere. The buckles are actually the way to figure out left from right. Depending on where the buckles fasten is how you distinguish them. Geez, I'm learning all kinds of new things today. They couldn't think to put an L or an R on the bottom of the boots. I guess that would be too easy. We figured it out, and finally, my boots were chosen and they fit. And they weighed about 80 pounds a piece. They're super fun to walk in too. It's like dragging around two cement blocks. Good times. After I had my boots, I headed over to yet another 16 year old to get my skis. The skis are given out based on the boot size because they obviously have to fit properly. He gave me a copy of my rental form back and away I went to get my poles. You could tell they were rental poles. They were just thrown into a large box and most of them were bent in some way. I tried to find the straightest ones I could, but that was a bit of a challenge.


The rack-o-boots.


See the difference in the buckles?


They look kind of futuristic, don't they?


The rack of skis for the Size 9 boots.


Lookin' good!

So, finally, I had all my equipment and I was ready to rock and roll. We walked a short distance to where the lessons started out from. They started every hour on the hour all day long and lasted for nearly an hour. Once we got over there, I decided I should probably actually put my skis on. Getting the buckles the right tightness was a bit tricky, but once I got that down, one of the instructors showed me how to step into the skis. You slide the front of your boot under the front hook of the ski and then press your ankle down into the notch. Easy peasy. Except I nearly lost my balance trying to snap the first ski into place. Good start to the day. Luckily the instructor was there to lend a shoulder to lean on. I realized rather quickly that this was going to be a long day. And that if I hadn't figured it out already, now I know for sure that I'm not always the most coordinated person. I snapped the second ski on and I was ready for my lesson. I was going to be learning with a family of three, Jerry, Christine and their son Luke. Phillip was our instructor. And of course, he was 16 also. For crying out loud, was there anyone that worked there that had been born before 1992?


One of the instructors showing me how to put my skis on.

The first thing Phillip told us to do was to sit back on our skis with our butts out. I can do that, cool. Then I learned that Rule #1 is to never do that again. Damn. I think I broke that rule about 126 times today. Sticking your butt out is pretty much the best way to fall on your ass. Great. Instead, we were supposed to stand tall and lean forward so that our shins are always in contact with the tongue of our boots. Awkward. And definitely not natural. You try doing that and see if it comes easy to you. That would pretty much be my main obstacle throughout most of the lesson. Next we stuck our arms out perpendicular to our bodies and held our poles out. I felt pretty ridiculous, but if it's how I was supposed to learn, then I was all for it.

Phillip wanted each of us to try skiing, one at a time, about 15 feet towards him while standing tall and sticking our arms out. He would stop us. He just wanted us to get a feel for the proper stance. What the four of us misunderstood was where that was to start. He pointed about 15 feet from where we were and we assumed he meant that we were all to start from there, not that we were each to ski to him there. So, we all took off towards him at the same time and basically ended up in one giant pile of people and skis. "I said one at a time!" Oops. So, that was the first fall of the day for me. He went about 15 feet ahead of us and asked us to try it again, this time really one at a time. I should stop to mention that there was barely any grade to this practice area we were on. Basically just enough for gravity to send us downwards, but not enough to really do any damage. When it was my turn to go, I immediately broke Rule #1. I stuck my butt out and I fell flat on my tush. Phillip came over to pick me up and said "you were sticking your butt out." Thanks Captain Obvious. I assumed as much. But when I was going down the incline, my instinct was to lean back to stop. Maybe that's a carry-over from the Segway lesson. Hmmmm.

Unfortunately, at this point, Meredith realized that my batteries were dead in my camera. Bummer. I had more batteries in the car, but I hadn't thought of bringing them with me. I thought my current batteries were pretty new. I would be wrong. So, she went to the shop to buy more, but she missed out on most of the beginning of the lesson, and the majority of the spills. Not her fault at all, I should have thought to bring batteries with me. Oh well. There are still plenty of pics.

Now that we had all had a taste of "skiing", and me of falling, I asked Phillip if we were going to learn to stop next. I can be a bit of a smart ass sometimes. He said yes and took us over to a much steeper hill (well, steeper than the miniscule hill we were already on), and showed us the wedge technique. Basically you take your heels and point them out, point your toes inward so that your skis make a wedge and you're supposed to stop. Oh yeah, and don't forget to stand tall and not stick your butt out. Phillip went down the hill a little bit and asked each of us to ski towards him and practice the wedge and try to stop. Sounds good in theory, right? My companions all went first, and then it was my turn. Again, I crashed and burned. I just could not get my mind to wrap around the fact that I shouldn't stick my butt out. And again, Phillip pointed this out. I know he was being helpful, but I wanted to smack him. He helped me up again, and we started all over, this time moving a bit further down the hill.

Eventually we all made it to the bottom, some of us with sore bottoms. I should mention that I wasn't the only one that fell. Each of them also fell, just not as much as I did. Christine and I were about the same level at the beginning, but she caught on quicker than I did. The cool thing about this mini hill is that rather than a lift chair, it had a conveyor belt to take everyone back up to the top. Seriously. It's called the Magic Carpet. And apparently it was having some technical difficulties. As soon as it was my turn to get on it, it stopped. Then it started, stopped, started, stopped. You get the idea. It was incredibly jerky and was making it very difficult to stay standing. Finally, the kinks were worked out, and it started on its merry way. Then, the trouble began. I was at the top. With a slight drop off and a 45 degree angle to make to get off the thing. I bit it. And took down a 6 year old kid in the process. Well, he had technically already fallen down, but I couldn't steer or stop, so there was just no hope for him. It took us a few seconds to untangle our skis, and then Phillip was there to help me back up. Poor guy. But, this is his job after all.


Told you it was called the Magic Carpet.


Magic Carpet Ride! The guy in the bright blue jacket is my teacher, Phillip, and I'm standing right in front of him, preceded by Jerry, Christin and Luke.


Getting off the conveyor. And of course going the opposite direction I needed to go.

We started all over from the top, each of us heading a little down the hill to where Phillip was standing until we all made it. Then, we'd do it again. I was always last, and that was a big mistake. Everyone else was quite a bit further along than I was and eventually they were all at the bottom of the hill waiting for me, as I had fallen. Again. And about 2.4 seconds after I fell, I got rammed by a little boy on a snowboard. Right in the tush. I'm not sure if he ran into me because I was already on the ground and in his way or if he bit it himself at the same time I did. It didn't really matter. I was on the ground again. But, this time, Phillip wasn't there to help me up. And for the life of me, I could not bloody stand up. Imagine being on a slippery surface with giant skis attached to your feet that are made to slide on that slippery surface. I looked like a solo member of a Three Stooges film. I was getting so damn frustrated, so I just popped my skis off and stood up in my boots. I snapped my skis back on and headed back down the hill. Unfortunately, that wasn't as quick as I just made it sound. My group was supportive of me, but I'm sure they were tired of waiting for me each time.

Back on the conveyer belt we went, and I was appreciative of the short reprieve I had. I was already worn out from using muscles I didn't know I had, and from struggling to stand up each time I fell. And I was getting increasingly more annoyed with the process. I wasn't mad at anyone but myself because I knew what I was supposed to do, I just couldn't coordinate my body to do it. This next time though I was determined to try to stop without falling. And I did it. I only skiied about 15-20 feet, but I made it without falling. If I could have, I would have jumped for joy. I was so proud of myself. And thankful that I didn't have to take my skis off to stand up again. That time I made it to the bottom without falling down once. Go me.


Getting my bearings after stopping, and getting ready to start again.


The booty is out, but I eventually learned how to correct that once I realized I was doing it.


This guy had fallen right in front of me while trying to snowboard. I ran into him, but fortunately, not hard enough to knock me down. I did get my skis tangled with his board though. We're trying to get them apart.

Now that we all had a decent grasp of stopping, we learned turning next. The idea is essentially the same as stopping, it requires making the wedge first, but you have to turn the outside foot to go in the direction you wanted. We learned left turns first, so you turn your right foot. I didn't do too bad with that. Mainly because each time I stopped before, my right leg would dominate and I'd hook a bit to the left. Again, I made it to the bottom without falling. You have no idea how happy I was about that feat. Next, we learned right hand turns. These, I wasn't so good at. I didn't fall, but I couldn't get my left foot to cooperate. I started noticing that when I tried to stop, my right leg always kicked out and I'd end up slightly to the left. I couldn't get the left leg to do the same thing. I kept with it though and got slightly better. Phillip decided to be a smart ass as well when I was supposed to go right and I went left instead. "Your other right, Heather."


Taking a break to look sassy for the camera.

Finally, our last task was to turn left, then right, then left, then right all the way down the hill. I pretty much just kept going left. I'd have to stop, walk my skis back forward and then try to go right. It wasn't pretty. And it wasn't perfect, but I stayed standing. Anytime I made it down the hill without falling, I considered it a success. After we reached the top again, Phillip concluded our lesson with a few suggestions on which courses to try and which to avoid. He told us to stay away from the difficult courses. No kidding. I'm not stupid. Or suicidal.


Our group: Luke, me, Phillip, Christine and Jerry.

Now that we were free to unleash our wrath on the slopes, I opted to take a snack break and recuperate for a bit. Meredith and I headed back up to the lodge to get a drink. She opted to ski back, and I opted to try my hand at cross-country skiing. Not really, but that's how I had to maneuver back up the hill. Phillip didn't teach us to ski uphill. I guess I could have taken my skis off and walked up the hill, but I wanted to practice a bit. After we made it inside, we grabbed a snack and plotted our next move. I told Meredith that she should ski some of the courses. I didn't want her to have to pay for admission and only photograph me all day. I wanted her to enjoy the slopes. So, while I rested and did some people watching, she ran a couple of courses. She's such a natural. She makes it look so easy.


She's so frikkin' cute.


It's like she doesn't even have to try!


Here's the terrain park where people can do jumps and flips off the mounds. That was fun to watch. Especially when people kept wiping out.

After that, we headed back to the baby hill to practice a few more times. I only fell once, but that was because I was trying to avoid this little boy who was running around the hill. Yes, running. His mom was watching her other son ski down the hill and then go back up the conveyor, so she was walking on the snow back and forth while he did it. And not really keeping an eye on the little one. It's amazing I didn't flatten him.


I'm trying to untangle my skis. Meredith helped me up.


Me and Meredith enjoying a bonding moment at the end of the day.


I'm the Queen of the Conveyor!


Starting from the top of the hill. I hope you get a kick out of this. I couldn't stop laughing when I watched it back. But, hey, I made a right turn! Phillip would be so proud.


Look at me stopping!! Woo-hooo!


Meredith and I are heading up the conveyor and I'm shakin' it....then the damn thing stops and we nearly fall down. It was doing that all day!

Finally, after about four and a half hours, we decided to call it quits. I was sore and kinda worn out, and we also had an hour and a half ride back home. Meredith asked me if I wanted to try the ski lift to an easy course, but I decided I didn't really have enough training to do that just yet. Plus, I was really scared of biting it coming off the chair lift. I had a vision of Bridget Jones, from the second movie, where she did just that. No thanks. Maybe another time. I came back in to return my skis, but no one was checking them in. You just dropped them off and someone would be by later to put them away. They had a really weird set up. I probably could have taken my gear home with me and no one would have known. When I took my boots off, I couldn't believe how light my feet felt. It was awesome. A stop at the shop to pick up a souvenir t-shirt, and then we were out of there.

Despite the early frustrations and annoyances, I did have a good time. I was really proud of myself for sticking with it, even though I was ready to quit. I may be far from passable as a skiier, but I at least tried and enjoyed a few small successes. I'd probably go again, but I'd like to let my bruises and my muscles heal first. Thanks to Meredith for being such a good sport and taking me skiing for the first time!