cold smoke in the dark and a honey lager, please.

It's been awhile since I've written because, well, things have been busy. As you may know, weather has played a huge factor in the uphill battle of getting races off here at Whistler. At least it's snow for the most part. It could be worse...it could be Cypress.

Quick recap on the past few days. It's been a healthy mix of hard work, early mornings, a day off, and play time. Last week when we knew the weather was going to basically screw over the whole weekend in terms of having the men's downhill, I had the opportunity to take some incredible turns up on Whistler Peak and such with my crew. We were lead by a guy named Connor from Nova Scotia who can ab-so-lute-ly RIP. We skied some incredible lines in mid-calf pow off of the back side of Whistler Bowl, and it was an euphoric test of my athleticism and skiing.

We worked into the weekend, and I had a day off on Sunday. Saturday after work, there was much playtime in the village. Went to a few bars, ate and drank too much, etc. No matter how tired I am, when the time comes to go enjoy the scene, it simply has to be done...there's no other opportunity for it. Sunday I found myself taking care of some housekeeping things but then later ending up in the village again to watch a couple Canadian bands as well as the headliner, Matisyahu. I wasn't really expecting it, but it was a tremendous show and Village Square was packed. Met some Spaniards, straight from Madrid and Granada. A couple of them are actually on slip crew...who woulda thunk it. It was so refreshing to hear them speak Spain-Spanish and identify on some common things with them. Before I knew it, we were talking about Bar La Tortuga en Granada.

Monday we had a successful men's downhill - it went off without a hitch. Today, the super-combined was canceled. And, if you're interested, here's the final word straight from the horse's mouth: Men's super-g is on Friday. Men's super-combined is on Sunday.

The work mood has deteriorated. We're counting four-plus mornings now when we've had to show up for early loads (4am) and credentials check-in hasn't been open, nor has there been any breakfast. It is a gigantic effort to try to pull this off, and when organizers want hundreds of volunteers to get up at 2:30am for a full day's work, they need to be fed breakfast. This has happened on a handful of occasions, and it's frustrating. Work on the hill has been arduous. Today we side-stepped and boot-packed endlessly to try to prepare the track for a good freeze tonight after receiving 10+cm of snow last night. This work IS expected. But what has also been happening is a lot of standing around. Literally for hours. Volunteer efforts are sometimes overkill, and there are simply too many people for the amount of work required, especially during race time. A lot of bitching, I know. But it's not all peachy all the time on the Olympic downhill course!

In the midst of all the bureaucracy, early rises, and difficult work, things have been positive in many aspects. Humor is actually augmenting and becoming extremely dirty on the course. Every act of course work pretty much has to do with sex now. I will elaborate on this in person with whomever desires to know...give me a call or e-mail, because there are a couple of one-liners that are simply unforgettable. This morning we were ordered to go to the top of the men's downhill course for xyz something-or-another, then got called off. It was DUMPING snow, pitch-dark, and we had to take another run to get back down to midstation. This run happened to have boot-top untracked freshies, and I couldn't help but develop a shit-eating grin as I was making cold smoke in some liberating pre-dawn turns. I also attended the medals ceremony last night, which was definitely an experience. Bode took third, and Didier Defago (pronounced DEE-dee-eh) won the downhill, which naturally brought a contingent of over-sized Swiss cowbells careening down the cobblestones towards the ceremony (literally, the Swiss were carrying cowbells that were half the size of a human and made noise like church bells in Rome).

During the medals ceremony, I was impressed at how we were connected to BC Place in Vancouver, as they were having the medals presentation for the men's moguls simultaneously. The big screens in the village were tuned into that presentation, and we were part of the audience; then, when XC skiing, luge, and downhill medals were to be presented, we went live and all of the sudden 30,000 people in BC Place were watching via live feed the spot where I was standing. Impressive. Boom cameras, lights, music, national anthems, you name it - it's quite the production.

I've also developed good friendships here that will last. Cory Willis and Ally Empey are two of my sidekicks, and we definitely share the same sense of humor with regard to many things. When the going gets tough, we still tend to laugh our asses off, and it zeroes everything right back in again. Dave, our crew chief, and Willy, our section chief, are both two phenomenal human beings, and I couldn't ask for better bosses.

So much to talk about. But the experiences here are overwhelming the senses in both beautiful and frustrating ways. It is a struggle one minute, then it is beauty. I guess my only real underlying qualm right now is the fact that I would love to share this - these things I discuss - with somebody I'm close with. Don't get me wrong, seeing and doing these things is a great experience. And although I have been spending time with some of the people I've met, it still isn't the same as watching something or eating something or thinking about something which you can connect deeply to a parent, best friend, girlfriend, coach, sibling, etc., as he or she stands beside you. Being at the Winter Olympics alone is good. But it's also...being at the Winter Olympics alone. Doubled-edged sword.

Charlie Heggem put it into a good summation that has stayed with me: "Hauling B, pounding out snow, crack-ass of dawn patrols, massive egos, kick ass co-workers, lame co-workers, lots of insane moments that sear into your brain. Cool shit."

And aside from everything else, that moment you step out the door on a "crack-ass" dawn patrol and (if I may borrow from Pearl Jam) are blanketed with gems and rhinestones above with a setting crescent moon into a jagged alpine silhouette, things turn out to be pretty damned simple.

I leave you with a quote, for now. I must say that there's not much more that's demoralizing and fear-of-God instilling than getting shouted at by a guy with a thick Swiss accent. However, Hans, the FIS delegate from Switzerland, had some words of wisdom today having to do with boot-packing uphill that may also apply to the rutted course of life:

"If you vant to go high, you must start slow, heh?"


Hey, and thanks to Ruckel and Corrie Burke for being my two loyal followers!! YEAH!