Something Strange Going On

I have ski instructor friends who rib me about my technique. Yes, rib me, ridicule me. They do it in a good-natured, joking way, but they tell me that I stand too tall, that my feet are too close together, that I slide my tails, that wedeling went out of fashion in the early seventies. And, while these chiding instructors acknowledge that they can’t keep up with me in the bumps, they seem to respect me only as a sort of risk-taking freak who somehow skis moguls well despite a lack of technique.

Of course, the truth is that I don’t lack technique. I just use technique that’s different from the technique of most instructors. I use mogul-skiing technique. And I’ve used that mogul technique, now and again, to do fairly well in mogul competition. Isn’t it strange that instructors don’t recognize mogul technique that’s been proven in competitive bump skiing? And isn’t it strange that instructors see mogul technique as either improper technique or a lack of technique, even while their own mogul skiing lacks efficiency, smoothness and speed?

This strangeness is due, at least in part, to the instructing establishment’s infatuation with racing-derived technique (carving, arcing). There are a few instructors out there who understand that the bumps (and powder, and trees, and steeps, etc.) require special techniques that have nothing to do with alpine racing. But even these instructors don’t seem to agree upon just what those special, non-racing techniques are. And the average instructor talks about carving and all of the techniques that surround carving as if they’re the only legitimate skiing techniques in existence. But let me dramatize all of this for you.

Let’s say that, while skiing, I come upon a group of instructors on a mogul field, instructors in the midst of a high-level certification exam. And let’s say that I stand and watch the examiner and a few examinees ski the moguls in that meandering, wide-stance style of mogul skiing that is not really mogul skiing at all, but just a form of mogul survival. And let’s say that I then hop into a nearby zipper line and fly by this group of certified professional skiers. Let’s say that I ramp it up to 25 or so miles per hour, hit a big air right next to the group, and then rip the rest of my line, making clean, fast turns all the way down the trail. What do you suppose that examiner would say about my skiing?

Well, knowing what I know about instructors, I can tell you. It’s likely that the examiner would tell his examinees that, despite my athleticism, I don’t exhibit the techniques the examiner hopes to see from his examinees, the techniques that will allow those examinees to pass the mogul-skiing section of their exam. And isn’t this, too, a little strange?

The reality, of course, is that I’ve just out-skied these instructors and their examiner. The reality is that I use techniques of which many mogul competition judges have approved, techniques that allow me to ski even hard and icy bumps with smoothness, efficiency and control. According to the ski instructor, however, I don’t exhibit the correct techniques. Like I said, strange. But let me shift gears here.

The season before last, an instructor association magazine ran a mogul instruction article in which the author claimed that female World Cup bump skiers pivot and slide their skis all the way down the course, while male World Cup bump skiers set their edges firmly at each bump. This just isn’t true. All bump skiers, men and women, make a firm edge set at the bump. Any skier capable of steering his or her skis will make a firm edge set at the bump when those turned skis meet the uphill face of the bump. The firm edge set happens automatically, naturally. You can hardly avoid it. And the women on the World Cup bump tour have been doing it since they were small children. But this instructor-author says that female World Cuppers pivot and slide all the way down the hill. And the magazine editors printed this and distributed it to instructors all across the country.

The main point of the article was that the author had had an epiphany when he realized that racer-like carving is inappropriate in bumps. It’s true: mogul skiers don’t carve like alpine racers. But why is this a huge revelation for instructors? Among mogul skiers, it's fundamental knowledge. Why, for the instructor, is it cutting-edge news to be published in a professional association magazine? Why hasn’t the instructing establishment simply asked us mogul skiers about our technique? We could’ve told them, years ago, that we don’t carve like racers!

Unfortunately, that whole magazine article dwelt on turns, which is typical of the mogul instruction you get from groomed-trail devotees. The average instructor doesn’t understand that, when it comes to bump skiing, the key answers are not to be found in the turn. Yes, to the alpine racer and other groomed-trail devotees, the turn means almost everything. To the mogul skier, however, the turn is only about half of the picture. The other half is the absorption and extension that help the skier to maintain balance and control speed. But let’s move on.

At times, I’ve offered to teach my instructor friends a bit of authentic mogul technique. And how have they responded? A couple of them have been eager to learn. They now ski with me often, and they’ve developed their bump skiing skills. The rest of them have acted as if I were trying to push heroin on them. We’ll be standing on the side of the trail and I’ll ask them to try something and they’ll first look around to make sure none of the ski school’s clinic leaders are nearby. Or one will warn the other, “this might be fun to try, but it’ll hurt your chances of passing your level-two exam.”

Let me get this straight: learning to ski moguls with control, smoothness, efficiency, comfort, confidence and speed will hurt an instructor’s chances of passing an instructor exam? Is it me, or is there something strange going on here?
-dd