Ruth tells me stories of her childhood days, winter near Landsberb vom Warthe. That area is now part of Poland. She recalls strapping wooden skis and hiking up the hillside of a valley, then slidibng down and up the other side. She was a skier back in the 1930's!
When Snow Trails opened near Mansfield back in 1964 she decided she was still a skier. She strapped on the 'new' skis, rode the lift to the top of the hill and shot down, through the fence and across the parking lot; steel ski edges striking sparks off the gravel. She was glad no one opened a door as she went between cars.
She would call in to St. Joseph Academy and tell them Heidi and Rosie had dentists appointments, then the three would head to the slopes and winter fun. Fortunately, this only happened five or six times a year. Those girls should have taken better care of their teeth.
Before I met Heidi she had already made a couple trips to the Austrian ski slopes. That is where she really learned to ski. Her mom believed in all day ski lessons so they wouldn't get lost on the mountain. That worked great until Ruth blew out an ankle and left Rose and Heidi to explore the St. Anton / St. Christoph areas on their own. There were adventures.
The first winter Heidi and I dated she didn't go skiing. I overheard her the following year when Ruth asked if she was planning on going that winter. When she replied she didn't think so because I couldn't ski, I said, "Ski?" It wasn't long before I found myself, tumbling as much as sliding, on the cold white slopes at Clearfork,.
In the next few years, despite my best efforts and many lessons, I did a lot of downhill tumbling along with a little skiing. And I had a great time doing it. Heidi's mom had encouraged her over the years to consider joining the ski patrol, the group responsible for safety, first aid and rescue on the hill. The winter following our marriage we approached members of the patrol at Clearfork and asked about joining. The following winter she had completed her first aid certification courses and was accepted as a candidate.
Over the years we've skied at Mad River Mountain, Snow Trails and Clearfork in Ohio; Peak'n Peak, Holiday Valley, Greek Peak, Labrador and Song Mountain in New York; and the Gastien Valley in Austria. Seems like we've included many friends and family members in each location. We've skied in rain, snow, sleet, deep fog, sunshine and extreme cold. It has been fun.
Our daughter was first on the slopes riding on mom's back at six months of age; that is if you don't count the winter before her birth when she was with mom at Clearfork and in Austria. She started on her own skis, the little ones we bought in Dorfgastien while she was yet to be born, at eighteen months. Her brother, John, started on those same skis when he was twenty-three months old. We're talking frozen diapers, here. Those skis have been on many small feet since then, soon to be my granddaughter's.
I quit skiing in the mid-90's when I found myself falling on every right turn I attempted. My legs just couldn't support me anymore. I managed to stay on the slopes for a few years using a bicycle frame mounted with a seat and skis. Then again in 2002-2003 with TAASC in a commercial bi-ski with a lot of help. That got to be too hard on my shoulders about the time Heidi blew out a knee, so we haven't been skiing much since.
When Heather and John were about ten the director of the ski school at Clearfork suggested we quit paying for lessons for them, but bring them up for the instructor training clinics they had every week. John never demonstrated an interest in teaching, but Heather enjoyed it and showed some aptitude. When she was 14 she became an official instructor at the ski school and found that, like ski patrol, unless you love it teaching is hardly worth all the hard work.
So now John has a daughter, Mary, and at four months plans on introducing her to skiing this winter. He already has his (and Heather's) old skis.