How Vidal Sassoon changed my life…and my hair

That Tuesday in 1969 started out like any other.

Legions of women walked to work in New York City wearing sneakers (tennis shoes for West Coasters) and carrying their heels in shopping bags.

I was one of them. I was also one of millions of women who set our hair on big rollers every night, and slept on them. Mine were one and a half inch-diameter brown mesh over an aluminum spring. Not easy to find a pillow position with this lunar armor covering my head.

But the results—oh, the fluffy hair with body and height. For someone with stick straight hair, I adored the way my hair looked when I unwrapped the rollers every morning.

With my bouncing, long, blonde hair, I left my apartment on 89th Street at Madison Avenue that hot August morning, and walked 40 city blocks to my job at WNEW FM in the Pan Am Building, just north of Grand Central Station. I joined the ranks of my fellow gals. We looked odd dressed to the gills in the style of the late 1960s that verged on formal and sporting scuffed sneakers on our feet. We were a pragmatic lot; no one enjoyed walking in pain-inducing pumps.

I marched; I liked the exercise. Then again, everyone walked fast in New York. At the end of the two-mile trek, I was hot and perspirey. After stopping in at the corner coffee shop for a coffee regular and a toasted corn muffin, I hopped the elevator and THEN ducked into the ladies room before walking to my desk.

The woman in the mirror had loser hair. Humidity had reduced my fluffy hair to a limp, blonde mass that clung to my skull. This despite gallons of hairspray. I hated hairspray.

For this disappointing result I underwent the torture of sleeping on stupid rollers every night?

I kicked the wall beneath the mirror.

Pain shot through my toe; it throbbed, I was sure I’d broken it.

That did it. Anger morphed into resolve, and after work that evening, I marched myself over to Fifth Avenue and straight into the Vidal Sassoon salon.

On Tuesday nights, haircuts were free, as long as you could submit to the ministrations of an apprentice hairdresser. We girls with problem hair, no money for a haircut, or the simple desire for hair adventure stood around waiting to be chosen. Student hairdressers approached each of us. They felt our hair, lifted it to see how thick it might be, how unruly. Gasps and expletives occasionally escaped their lips as they guided their conquests to the depths of the salon to perform magic.

As if they were picking sides for a softball team, they left me until last, clearly disappointed with the fineness of my hair;  only at the final moment did they deign to style it.

As Sassoon has said, he was not after style; he was after bones. One apprentice washed my hair, another one cut and styled it, and a third blew it dry. Edward Scissorhands couldn’t have flown through the process any faster. When the cutter whipped away the gown and proudly showed off his handiwork in the mirror, Sassoon’s comment proved true. In place of my blonde locks (curl imagined) I had a cap of hair that contoured the shape of my head. Wispy pixie hair. About an inch long all over.

Just that easily, I had done away with the problems of humidity, hairspray and tormented sleep. I now had wash-and-wear hair; I could jump out of the shower in the morning, dry my hair with a towel, comb it into place and walk to work without fear of losing my style. It was a revelation. There’s far more to life than perfect hair.

Thank you Vidal Sassoon.

 

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Mammoth. Skiing. Heaven.

It’s curious how we alight in certain places.

From the moment I strapped on those long Northland skis at the age of 15, I was bitten, forever smitten with skiing. The sound of cold Vermont snow squeaking beneath my leather boots, the crinkling of little hairs in my nose as I sucked in that high alpine air and the mountains that rolled around me in shades of green to purple held me in the swirl of a hug.

That moment set a trajectory that drew me from the gentle mountains of Vermont to the Colorado Rockies and finally to the Eastern slope of the Sierra Nevada range.

I had tried following a traditional path set for me by my father, working in book publishing and radio in New York City, then law in Washington, D.C., but I kept escaping to Vermont in my VW bug for euphoric flights down the slopes of Killington and Mt. Snow. Around the corner from my house in Georgetown, a car’s Colorado license plates gave me such an itch to head for those mountains that it took only a few months to decide to quit my job, break up with my boyfriend and drive that Volkswagen straight to Aspen, Colorado.

Died and gone to heaven. Colder than Vermont but dry-not-bitter cold. Snow not ice. Wide-open fields of soft, airy fluff, uncrowded slopes, even elk standing against the mountains watching us ski by. And as if by magic, it snowed at night and mornings dawned clear and sunny and powdery.

Growing up in a small town on the East Coast, I had been steeped in frontier history and tradition and followed the call to the mountains in fine old explorer style. My Yankee sensibilities fit right into the Colorado ski town snugged right up to the mountains. Landing there was landing home.

My soul flew thermals with the ravens above the ski mountains. When I hurled myself from the top of Aspen Mountain to the base, I traveled through pine alleyways, swooped into bowls and gulches, dodged squirrels that shot out of the woods daring me not to run them over, grinned at the shrieks of glee lifting out of the glades…and at the end of the day, met up with friends for a beer and bragging rights.

I skied the Rockies for a lot of years, growing up there, really, married, and skied some more, hitting Vail, Copper, Breckenridge, Telluride, Winter Park, Steamboat Springs. I learned to drop my fear of going too fast. Especially if I wanted to keep pace with my husband who was an SST on skis. On 215 K2 downhills, he swooped the mountain from top to bottom like a graceful hawk chasing and toying with a mouse. We reveled in laps on the gondola. Up and down, up and down as the sun gradually filled the gulch with light.

I never wanted to leave my ski heaven, but there came a time when that idyllic existence gave way to another kind of adventure: moving to California.

The process of becoming a Californian was tortuous for me. I was happy in my life; being uprooted and hauled to a remote canyon in Los Angeles was unnerving. The PCH was a nightmare. After living someplace that was no more than five minutes from anywhere, the PCH strung out a line of sparkling cars whipping along at warp speeds, while the drivers ate, talked on phones, applied makeup, did not look at the ocean that sidled into shore. I couldn’t drive. I was trapped in a hot canyon where the air didn’t seem to move. At all.

I wanted to ski, to live within vertical horizons. We couldn’t get to Mammoth fast enough. The first time we drove up from L.A. – in the dark – we had no idea where we were going or what the landscape looked like. It was all we could do to keep focus while other, more excited drivers daringly passed us on the two-lane sections of freeway. But the second trip was in bright daylight, a breathtaking journey from desert up to mountains, and awed us with a sense of geologic time and volcanic movement.

We became permanent Mammoth residents within one winter. The bonus in discovering Mammoth was finding a town filled with great people, kind, generous and friendly, a town we never want to leave, with a mammoth ski mountain to explore in winter and neverending trails to hike in the summer.

Now, just a little snow to cover the dog poop and add to the great snowmaking done by Mammoth Mountain Ski Area and we’ll have a great year. Think snow.

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Venture out: Adventurers put us in their boots for 2012 Adventure Slide Show Series

Climbing big walls in the remote Karavshin. Photo by Jim Barnes

Hangliding over the mystical ruins of Peru, ski mountaineering the Alps, skiing the remote volcanoes of Russia, first ascents up classic Sierra rock climbs – these are only three of eight adventure slideshow talks that will happen at the Snowcreek Club this winter.

January and February can be the cold outposts of winter, when we tend to hunker down during dark nights, but Jim Barnes has other ideas about how we spend our time those two months. He’s the guy who urges to “do something.”

For this second year of his winter slideshow series, Barnes has scheduled some awesome athletes to talk about and guide us through their adventures up and down the mountains of the world.

First up, action sport photographer Christian Pondella will immerse us in the local culture and scoot us up onto the peaks of the Cordillera Real Mountains of Bolivia as he and two other skiers search for successful ski descents on the notorious steep faces. (Jan. 3)

By plane, foot and Soviet-era helicopter, Jim Barnes and three friends travel halfway around the world to remote valleys in Kyrgyzstan to climb the biggest walls they can find. (Jan. 10)

The team of Shawn Reader and Sean Jones revisit some of Jones’ first ascents. Known for his passion for exploration and visionary gift of spotting lines, Jones has established many celebrated routes in the Sierra, in and around Yosemite. (Jan. 17)

Inveterate three-pinner and photographer John Dittli regales with a 35-year retrospective of backcountry skiing in the Range of Light. (Jan. 24)

Cathleen Calkins spent 30 days in Russia’s unspoiled Kamchatka Peninsula – open to foreigners only since 1991 – scouting out aesthetic backcountry lines on Russia’s remote volcanoes, smooth vodka and pristine hot springs. (Jan 31)

Join Dave Nettle for a hut-to-hut alpine touring adventure in Italy’s Ortler Alps – an adventure in great ski terrain, rustic huts, and fine food and wine. (Feb. 7)

Float, glide and hang with world champion pilot Kari Castle through the Andes Mountains for a unique view of Peru’s ancient, mystical ruins. (Feb. 21)

Finally, Marty Lewis, known as the mayor of Owens River Gorge, presents the history of this sport climbing paradise. (Feb. 28)

Each week (except for Feb. 14) Barnes invites us to venture out of our comfort zones, because, as he says, “We become hermits in the winter. Get out, see friends, be inspired… by hearing wild stories and seeing beautiful photos.”

“It’s community,” Barnes says. “We’ve got a lot of Eastside speakers as well as those who come from Tahoe, El Portal and Big Bear.”

And it’s free.

Mammoth Mountaineering Supply presents Adventure Slideshow Series at the Snowcreek Athletic Club, January and February. This shot is from Jim Barnes' talk on climbing in Kyrgystan.

Whether an armchair traveler or intrepid adventurer, these evenings turn up our energy and excitement a couple of notches. They’re inspiring, moving us to push our limits or try something we haven’t done before.

Hosted by the Snowcreek Athletic Club, Barnes suggests carpooling or taking the bus to the club, grab a snack or dinner and a beer, visit with friends, and then sit down and travel the world. Tuesdays at 7 p.m., 51 Club Drive, off Old Mammoth Road. Last year there was often standing room only, so get there early for a seat.

For more info, contact Barnes at jjimmybarnes@yahoo.com

 

 

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Tannenbaum Classic: First Nordic race of the season

Nordic tykes plunge onto the course at the 2011 Tannenbaum Classic held Sunday, Dec. 11 at Mammoth Mountain.

Mother and daughter Nordic ski racers Nancy and Laurel Fiddler not only ski, train and race together, but Sunday they finished one/two in the 2011 Tannenbaum Classic.

The even bigger news is that they blew the doors off everyone else’s time in the 10 K: making it twice around the Minaret Mile course up on Mammoth Mountain in a sizzling 20 minutes.

At the completion of the first loop, Laurel’s skis were almost scraping Nancy’s in front of her, and Laurel finished a scant 43 seconds behind her Olympian mom.

In many ways, the 2011 Tannenbaum Nordic ski race was a family affair. Everybody got into the act. Skiers raced. Parents ran the timing, handled registration, manned the course, gathered goodies for the fundraising bake sale. They also coached, cheered and supported their kids on the Nordic Junior ski teams.

Taking a casual lap after the race, Laurel Fiddler’s goal is to beat her mother. “Once I beat her I’ll know I’m skiing well.” As for Nancy Fiddler, “When Laurel passes me, I’ll retire!” Photo: Susan Morning/Mammoth Memories

Take for instance, the Thompson family. Dad Marty grew up in Mammoth, is a police officer and Mammoth High School football coach. Mom Heidi teaches at the elementary school. They came to cheer on their kids Martin, Carson, Meaghan and Ella, who were entered in each junior division of Sunday’s race.

Volunteers Isabel and Scott Kusamoto time the races.

Then there are Isabel and Scott Kusamoto, who did the timing for the race. Their son Connor (15:28) finished in fourth place in the Junior Boys Division.

But back to the race.

Usually held at Tamarack, lack of December snow moved the race up to the Minaret Mile at Mammoth Mountain Ski Area, between Mammoth Mountain Inn and Minaret Summit. Race director Ueli Luthi waved the first classic skiers out of the start at 10 a.m. The adults ran a two-loop 10K. It was a short race and tough, more like a sprint.

“To think that Nancy and Laurel Fiddler did the two laps in 20 minutes is amazing,” said Middle School Nordic Coach Robin Morning.

Mammoth’s Jonathon Bourne won the men’s division (24:29). His brother Andy was on the sidelines. “Go Jon, push. Feel the burn, you can catch her (third place finisher Carolyn Tiernan of Bishop),” he shouted.

MHS Nordic Team Katherine Janisse, Carson Bold, Patty Ann Hensley, Philip Oxford, Nick Damico, Jack Roten, Amanda Kirkeby, Kylie LaFramboise, with coach Alana Levin in the front. Not pictured: Jody Meads. Photo: Susan Morning/Mammoth Memories

Next came a 3K for the junior skiers, both Mammoth High School’s nine members and the Middle School’s 24 racers. Coached respectively by Alana Levin and Robin Morning, the spirit and verve of these Nordic athletes is inspiring. “This year’s (MHS) team is an incredible group of individuals who make up an even more outstanding team,” Levin said. “I am so enthusiastic about the season ahead and seeing the potential of this team unfold.”

In addition, according to Morning, 18 of the Mammoth Chargers and Alpine J 4s and 5s entered the race. “It is great to have this crossover and joining together of the different teams from the Mountain programs,” she said. While waiting for their start the juniors sprinted up and down the side of the course. After their event, they went back up the course to cheer on the 13 little kids for their race.

Amanda Kirkeby (11:43) handily won the girls division, followed two and three minutes later by Patty Hensley (13:53) and Katherine Janisse (15:06).

Mammoth Middle School Nordic Team members gather around coach Robin Morning for last-minute pointers.

The junior boys really kicked it, with Nick Damico (11:28) leading a close field of Jack Roten (11:45), Carson Bold (11:47) and Philip Oxford (11:57).

Twelve elementary school kids raced with gusto on a 1K course to the cheers and whistles of parents and other racers. Seth Gacho won the boys division and Kendall Lach won the girls. Perhaps the girl who gave it her absolute all was Cecilia Bassler, who brought up the rear, in superb future Nordic style.

Although the majority of entrants were Eastsiders, there was a smattering of people from SoCal, which is appropriate, since the Tannenbaum race started back in the mid-1950s as a club and league race. It has long been part of a week’s training at Mammoth Mountain every December.

As the season begins, Levin believes all the components are in place for a significant development of a Nordic community. “Roy Moyer and Ueli Luthi at Tamarack Lodge and Cross Country Ski Center, Eastern Sierra Nordic Ski Association, Brian Ellison at Brian’s Bicycles & Cross-Country Skis, Mammoth Mountain Ski Area and the Mammoth Mountain Community Foundation have been an extraordinary support,” she said.

“Programs that Brian Knox at Mammoth Nordic and John Wentworth of Mammoth Lakes Trails and Public Access are developing feed into the Nordic programs we are building by developing Nordic trails in the community for public use. I feel really fortunate to be leading the team at this time in Mammoth history. It’s an exciting time.”

The Tannenbaum Classic was staged by Tamarack Cross Country Ski Center and Ueli Luthi. Mammoth Mountain Ski Race Team and Race Department provided Slopeside for registration and race headquarters, team parents and volunteers coordinated the work, publicity, registration, results and a big bake sale. All proceeds went to the Eastern Sierra Nordic Ski Association in support of Mammoth youth Nordic teams.

Restaurant Skadi hosted the awards and provided a luncheon. Owner Ian Algeroen told the crowd that his grandmother had been a nomadic reindeer herder – a natural reason to support Nordic skiing.

For complete Tannenbaum Classic results, go to ESNSA.org.

Nick Damico wins the Junior Boys 3K, followed by Jack Roten and Philip Oxford. Photo: Susan Morning/Mammoth Memories

 

 

Cecilia Bassler goes all out in the kids race at the Tannenbaum Classic. Photo: Susan Morning/Mammoth Memories

 

 

Seth Gacho wins the kids boys division race. Photo: Susan Morning/Mammoth Memories

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Profile: Steve Searles, Mammoth’s wildlife officer

Every small town has its characters and its heroes. Steve Searles is both character and hero in Mammoth Lakes, California.

Mammoth Lakes Wildlife Officer Steve Searles stops to talk during a bear patrol in the Lakes Basin.

Known as the Bear Whisperer to the millions of people worldwide who have watched him on Animal Planet, this wildlife officer is known simply and belovedly as Steve by those who live in this Eastern Sierra mountain town.

He’s hard to miss, towering over six feet four inches, looking every inch the rugged mountain man, yet gentle enough to whisper to bears.

“I’m the luckiest guy you’ll ever interview,” he told me one gorgeous fall morning as we sat outside his house and talked about his work with bears.

“I love my job,” he says, spends most of his time at it, and has come to know well the 26 bears that inhabit the greater Mammoth area – the Lakes Basin, Mammoth Mountain and out to the airport. He works seven days a week, whether patrolling 10,000 miles along 61 miles of road in a single year, or talking to people about bears. “I love meeting people who are afraid, telling them the truth. No one in California has ever been killed by a bear.”

In this interface between wild lands and developed towns is the place where we learn to adapt to living with wild animals. Bear, coyote, cougar, raccoon – all roam this mountainous habitat that is overlaid with the town of Mammoth. We coexist, holding the animals in as much respect as we do fellow humans, sometimes more.

“Coexistence with bears is a metaphor for any challenge to coexist, whether it’s with people of different colors, religions, or ideologies,” Searles says.

It’s Searles’ approach that is so irresistible. He talks to the bears, scolding them when they’ve gotten into something they shouldn’t, talking gently to a mama bear worried about her cub that has gotten stuck in a dumpster, shooing them away. “I’m sensitive to their body positions, they’re sensitive to my tone of voice; I use that constantly,” he says.

Black bear takes a stroll on a Mammoth Lakes street. Photo by SusanMorning.com

The majority of bears in Mammoth are males, both adult and subadult. The five sows gave birth to two cubs each while in hibernation last winter. Searles says the high birth rate was caused by two wet years that produced an abundance of currants and berries for the bears to chow down. The plentiful food gave them enough bulk to sustain multiple births.

Steve works with the Mammoth Lakes Police Department in a proactive way, the only one monitoring bear activity.

“Steve and the officers work very effectively as a team,” says Police Chief Dan Watson. “They are enhanced by Steve and he is enhanced by them.”

On his patrols and in his call outs, Steve carries no fear, although he does carry an arsenal of noise and nonlethal charges for sending a nuisance bear on its way. The bears know Steve, have learned from him. For instance, the other day a bear was somewhere he shouldn’t be, and “he heard me cock my gun,” and hightailed it out of range. “Beyond a shadow of a doubt, bears learn; it’s the greatest thing in the world,” he says.

Chief Watson relates an interesting story of a bear (#86) that wandered into Mammoth tagged as a Yosemite bear. He’d broken into at least five Yosemite houses (he was captured, tagged and released), and disappeared. In July he showed up and got into a Mammoth house. Steve shot him with rubber rounds. “That bear is still here and hasn’t been a problem,” Watson says.

“This is the number one place in the world for coexistence with black bears,” Searles says, giving credit to the people of the town, the water district, police department, hospital board. … “They do the bulk of the work. I’m the front man.

“It fills my heart to do the work and I’m so proud. It’s heady stuff…we’ve learned to coexist and set an example for other communities for what’s possible.”

When he came to Mammoth 35 years ago, there were no bears here. “We destroyed the Grizzly bear in California (by 1922 they were extinct in the state). Grizzlies were black bears’ natural predators. Now they have none.”

The first three black bears that found their way to Mammoth had Yosemite ear tags on them, Searles says, and they multiplied, to a point in the last decade when Mammoth’s police chief hired him to kill the bears. “I was an avid outdoorsman and hunter. The chief asked me to shoot seven or eight bears, wait a few weeks and shoot seven or eight more.”

Steve asked if he could study the bears first, and came up with his plan to manage them, rather than kill them.

“I’m preaching common sense,” he says. “We in Mammoth feel a sense of stewardship. We started with the stickers that say don’t feed our bears.” He adapted the old slogan don’t feed the bears and substituted “our” so people would feel that stewardship. His program is acknowledged around the world for its quality and success.

This young bear found a cache of sunflower seeds near a house in Old Mammoth. Photo by SusanMorning.com

“Today, we don’t feed our bears. I have found no cases of people knowingly feeding bears.” Sure people inadvertently leave dog food outside, or food in their cars, and the bears have phenomenal noses. For example, just the other day, someone left a just-purchased case of high-priced soup in his truck, and one of the bears smelled the contents through the sealed cans, opened the truck door, pierced the cans and devoured the soup. “Bears are problem solvers,” Steve says, “They smell the food, they find it.”

Before people really grasped that dumpsters need to be locked against these clever critters, there were fifty hits a night. Today, Searles says, he maybe sees two hits a day in the more than 450 dumpsters in town. He gives huge kudos to the restaurants; they’ve gone from being the worst offenders to being the best at locking their dumpsters.

Mammoth did experience some hard times with learning how to coexist with bears, but now, Steve says, “we have zero issues, and people are not acting irresponsibly.”

On a typical day, Searles patrols, talking to people, checking dumpsters, checking for problems. “I start in the middle of town and work out in bigger and bigger circles, checking in on roosting trees, known daybeds, making sure the bears are where they should be,” he says.

Since most people know his number (760.937-BEAR) he gets a lot of direct phone calls that are mostly welfare calls…there’s a bear in a car, a deer with a limp, etc.

Late October was bear hunting season in California. It’s also the time when bears are packing on the poundage, preparing to spend six months in their dens. Because of all the water with the late spring, the currants and berries are plump and plentiful. “Between the natural food and people locking their dumpsters, the bears are not causing trouble.”

Mischievous, not malicious

That doesn’t mean, however, that they are not still mischievous. Many of the dumpsters in Mammoth condominium complexes are “bear proof,” yet some bears have learned how to manipulate the latches.

A bear approaches one of these dumpsters, stands on his back feet and slides the latch with his lips, opening the door and lumbering in. It’s dinner hour, just after dark, and he rustles around, finding a meal. After a few minutes, his head appears in the opening, he looks around, then meticulously emerges, slowly and quietly, and scampers off.

Steve tells a sad story of the 500-pound, light-colored, more than ten-year-old bear that turned up dead at the end of September on Rusty Lane.

“How great it was that this big gentle giant had his home here,” Steve says. People continue to send the wildlife officer condolences on the loss of this bear.

Once a bear is gone from its habitat, at least two and a half bears are ready to move into that area. In this case, it’s Ace that’s moved into the big blond bear’s habitat. Fans of Animal Planet and locals remember Ace, the rascally young bear a few years ago that got into considerable trouble. The pitch-black bear with the white diamond on his chest wasn’t intimidated by people, but Steve worked with Ace and eventually got him to move away from trouble. And now the bear’s got his own habitat.

It is a bonus to live among the bears. “The bears brighten everyone’s day. They have a positive effect on people,” Searles says. “Since the beginning of man bears have had a special place in our hearts.” They’re a symbol not only of strength and great love, but of clean air and water, and of living together.

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A perfect slice of hiking heaven

Last week, driving out on the Scenic Loop, the orangey-yellow aspen leaves shone like neon in the sun, heightened all the more by the contrast with the dark green of the pines. A favorite hiking trail now passes through a curtain of aspen trees, leaves strewn all over the trail.

Near the trailhead of the trail to Inyo Craters

Back in July, one Monday the sun gleamed promising on the morning. It looked like a standard-fare summer day. A bowl of blue sky soaring over the pines, sparkling clear waters in the lakes, the sound of streams gurgling from the ever-present snow runoff.

But it went beyond normal. On a hike up to the Inyo Craters, the sage smelled sweet, Brewer’s lupines radiated a heavenly purple scent, the aroma of pine needles on the forest floor lifted upward in the sunshine, and a soft breeze blew the heat away.

One of those times when it all mingles to cause a feeling of “all’s right with the world.” When you feel so thoroughly glad to be right where you are.

The Inyo Craters hike is short, less than an hour up and back. It starts out as a single track foot path. No motorized vehicles allowed, so a good place to walk with my dog.

It takes off through a grove of aspens, up and down a small hill, curving through a stand of pines. The path opens into meadow and trees then saunters variously through sunshine and woods. At one point, what I call trail art is displayed just off the trail; it’s a long-ago fallen tree, all that’s left of which is a tangle of roots. It looks as though someone set it there, just where the morning sun lights it up. Could easily be the makings for a driftwood coffee table.

Trail art along the path to the Inyo Craters

After about 15 or 20 minutes, the trail crosses a dirt road and heads sharply uphill to land in the parking area for the Craters. Cross that road and the next half-mile wanders through heavier woods on a well-tromped trail up to the Craters.

Although hiking a loop can generally be more satisfying, this trail looks different on the way back. There are a few different routes down from the Craters (one of them passes Jeffrey pines of huge girth). Past the Craters parking area, that steep hill becomes a downhill paved in soft seasons of pine needles.

My dog loves running for all she’s worth down this hill. Back across the dirt road the scenery changes and the single-track leads back to the trailhead.

Heading back down the trail from the Craters

At the end of the trail, walking through that grove of aspens (a rich green in summer and a blaze of  golden yellow in the fall) a breeze is shuffling through the leaves as if to say farewell, come back soon.

Back at the trailhead, five salt and pepper-haired men are offloading dirt bikes, getting ready to take a morning ride in the network of dirt roads that spiderweb through the Scenic Loop.

Arrival at the Inyo Craters

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Stacey Cook brings dryland training camp to Mammoth

When the first snow falls, as it did on October 5 in Mammoth, thoughts zip to making first tracks up on the ski mountain. It’s also high time to get serious about getting into optimal shape to sustain those turns throughout the season.

Last weekend, in advance of the snow, U.S. Alpine Ski Team racer Stacey Cook and Mammoth Mountain ski coach Lindsay Barksdale ran a group of Masters racers through their paces at their second annual Dryland Training Camp.

Deb Lewis and Adam Gooch (left) are two of the nine Masters racers who participated in Stacey Cook and Lindsay Barksdale's second annual dryland training camp the weekend of Sept. 30-Oct. 2 in Mammoth Lakes, Calif. Photo by SusanMorning.com

The idea for the camp came to Cook a couple of years ago. One day she was sitting at Giovanni’s restaurant in her home town of Mammoth Lakes, California with a group of Masters racers, who wanted to know how Cook trains for World Cup Ski racing during the off season.

Lindsay Barksdale (blue sweatshirt) and Masters racers at Horseshoe Lake portion of Dryland Training Camp. Photo by SusanMorning.com

Masters racers are a dedicated, passionate culture of skiers who take their on-snow training seriously. And although they get lots of direction from their coaches in the winter, they didn’t have a summer dryland training program. They peppered Cook with questions about her dryland training regimen, which starts very soon after the World Cup race season ends and spans spring, summer and fall. It’s a combination of strength, plyometrics and endurance training that can fill many hours of many days.

So, at the Masters racers’ request, Cook and Lindsay Barksdale combined forces to create a dryland training camp.

“We adapted our camp program from Stacey’s U.S. Ski Team program that was created by the USST strength and conditioning coach Ernie Rimer,” Barksdale said. She is the Head Development Ski Team Coach for the Mammoth Mountain Ski & Snowboard Team.

“I helped Stacey adapt her hard core, world-class athlete workout to use with adult ski racers of various fitness levels,” Barksdale said. “I tend to focus on form and help Stacey explain her theories and workouts in a way non-professionals can understand.”

They decided to hold the training camp in early October so the masters have about two months before their heavy training and competition season begins. Last year Cook ran her first dryland training camp, and the weekend of September 30-October 2, she held the second camp for nine Masters racers.

“My hope is for motivation going into the ski season,” Cook said. “To get ready, so you can ski how you want to ski and stay healthy… to handle the forces of skiing on a daily basis without injuring yourself.”

The group battled weather a little bit, but ended up fitting everything in. They did six different workouts, two each day.

Friday morning it was strength training at the Snowcreek Athletic Club. “We taught them exercises and made a stringent format geared toward skiing, but not boring,” she said. “It’s important to have exercises you enjoy doing and that don’t bore you.”

Friday afternoon the group headed up to Horseshoe Lake in the Lakes Basin for their version of the Amazing Race, but they got rained out. No problem, they ducked into the spin room at the Snowcreek Club and did a bike interval workout on the spin bikes.

Saturday at Horseshoe Lake at dryland training camp. That's Barksdale and Cook in the center. Photo by SusanMorning.com

 

Saturday it was out to Horseshoe again for a morning plyometric workout and an afternoon Amazing Race, which consisted of stand up paddle board, kayaking and a woods workout challenge (pushups, tricep dips and balancing on logs, along with a small rock climbing team challenge).

 

For many people that might have been plenty. But not for this group. On Sunday morning Barksdale treated the participants to her Willpower and Grace workout that she teaches at the Snowcreek Athletic Club.

“Willpower is a barefoot cardio workout that uses body weight exercises. There is also a flexibility and upper-body strength portion of the workout. I love Willpower because it is a great workout in one hour, but mostly because the moves remind me of ski specific moves such as squats, lunges and balance,” Barksdale explained.

Then it was everyone in the pool for a water plyometric workout, with lots of jumping. According to Cook, water plyometrics is really beneficial. “You can do a lot of work without fatigue in the water,” she said.

Wet and wearied participants threw up their hands in victory at the completion of the training camp. “They learned a lot,” Cook said of the nine people from Southern California and the Bay Area. “They’re amped. We sent them home with their workouts in a folder – a combination of plyometrics, strength and endurance in a diversified way ­– that they’ll want to do every day.”

Barksdale reported that a lot of the participants in this year’s camp said they were pleasantly surprised with camp and they think the program is doable and will be fun to continue…which is the key to being ready for ski and ski racing season.

On the day we talked, Cook did about a four and a half hour workout at the Snowcreek Club. Her first race comes the first week in December at Lake Louise.  Barksdale plans to get her 8-12-year-old MMSST athletes doing Willpower twice a week after skiing. “I think it will be pretty easy to get them doing it right after skiing because they can go barefoot and wear their long underwear. I like the idea of young kids doing body weight exercises with a focus on form. When our MMSST athletes turn 13 they start a more rigorous dryland program and they start strength training with weights,” she said.

For qualification and information about next year’s training camp, contact Cook at staceycookusa@gmail.com. To take Barksdale’s popular Willpower and Grace workout contact the Snowcreek Athletic Club, 760.934.8511.

Categories: Skiing | 1 Comment

Turn, turn, turn

At the acme of any cycle – the seasons, the moon – a sweet poignancy holds us in thrall. Like a carnival ride that shoots us to the top, where we pause for the briefest of breaths. And then we begin the free fall into the next cycle.

The fall equinox, September 23, will hold us for just such a moment between waning summer and waxing autumn. It is fall, not spring, that quickens my step, dawning each day with excitement and anticipation.

It is that feeling of anticipation I’ve experienced since I was a kid… Fall has always meant new beginnings… one year older and a brand new school year.

It is also that time of great fishing and hiking, the saddle between summer and winter, the off-season. It is a miraculous time. In the burnished light of autumn, people seem to walk around in a daze, as if internal springs have loosened, less tension on them.

Up here in the mountains, where seasons have distinct personalities, we stretch out into fall, savoring every moment of daylight on hikes and walks through aspens lit up from behind as the sun goes down. Fingers of yellow and gold inch up gulleys in the turning of autumn. Nights grow imperceptibly longer, pulling us toward close winter nights indoors.

We preserve summer’s bounty so we can enjoy fresh tomato sauce or squeaky green beans at our winter dinners. It’s a genetic thing in humans as in animals to store up for the winter. Cravings for bacon and heavier food signal an ages-old physical preparation to add bulk against the cold. Bears do the same thing, filling up for their own dark winters. And squirrels scurry, stripping myriad pinecones of precious seeds.

Out come parkas and hats, ski equipment examined, dollars counted for new gear or a visit to yard sales and consignment shops. Cross training is in full gear, to be ready for opening day on the Mountain.

We take trips in this interim time, lying on beaches, traveling to spots all over the world or across the country. They provide perspective on our lives and businesses, a chance to fill up on theater, music, museums, to spend luxurious time with friends or relax with a good book. Because returning to Mammoth, whether by car or plane, causes an intake of breath, a sureness that we live in one of the most beautiful places on earth.

Categories: All Things Mammoth | Leave a comment

Runners get looped in California’s highest 10K

Mike Karch bursts out of the start of the 14th annual Mammoth Rock Race over Labor Day Weekend in Mammoth. All photos: susanmorning.com

Loop course starts,

ends in Mammoth Creek Park

The 14th Mammoth Rock Race ran on Sunday morning of Labor Day weekend.

Only three men ran faster than Nancy Fiddler. The two-time Olympic cross-country skier ran the race in 45 minutes, 21 seconds.

Ahead of her Dan Yarborough, who shot like a bolt out of the start, blazed the course in a lightning 38 minutes, 59 seconds. The Bishop resident has won this race several times.

Mammoth Rock Race winner Dan Yarborough

Mammoth Biathlon race director and Mammoth orthopedist Mike Karch was first out of the start and the third runner to cross the finish line (44:28).

Among the nearly 100 runners who registered for the race were lots of local faces, including school superintendent Rich Boccia (fifth in his age class), Mammoth Nordic skiers Laurel Fiddler and Joelle Romo (top two finishers in their age class). The majority of runners were 40 and older.

Judy and Jim Stevens brought a big group from the Runner’s High Club in Los Angeles, as they do every year; most of the club’s runners are in their 70s.

Blair Filler is in his 80s, and this year he won the Legend’s Award, presented by title sponsor Tom Schemenauer and Mountain Financial to a runner in the 80+ age group.

Runners gathered at the start line at Mammoth Creek Park just before 9 a.m. Dan Yarborough’s Labrador retriever barked and cried on the sidelines, one very excited fan. Race director Alana Levin shouted GO, and the runners surged toward Mammoth Rock in the distance. “I love this event,” Levin said.

It’s a challenging and scenic trail run. Mostly single track with views of Mammoth Mountain, the town of Mammoth, the Sherwins, the Whites and Mammoth Rock.

“The Mammoth Rock trail is one of my personal staple runs,” Levin said. “I just did it this evening and it was a rejuvenating break to my day. Right from town you can run this gorgeous trail that takes you above and instantly makes you feel like you are away from it all.

“It’s such an epic trail, with all the attributes that I like in a trail run: single track, rocks, views, uphill, but not too much or too steep, perfect distance to get out for just the right amount of time, I can make the run shorter or longer, it’s a loop, great trees, plants, flowers and in different times of year it has different personalities (lupines, fall colors, etc.).”

The event started in 1998 with a handful of local runners who wanted to test their fitness levels. The High Sierra Striders took over in 2005 and then ran it jointly with the High Sierra Triathlon Club. Recently Levin and the High Sierra Triathlon Club have

Nancy Fiddler, fastest woman, fourth fastest time overall.

shouldered this signature event of the Eastern Sierra, relying on volunteers to staff the event. “Such a strong group who put in such an effort,” Levin said of the volunteers.

Increasingly, as Mammoth becomes a high-altitude training ground for runners, the mix of entrants includes running clubs from Southern California as well as Eastern Sierra residents.

The Mammoth Rock race is dedicated to the memory of Ned Schemenauer, who died of Leukemia in 1947 at the age of 6. Back then, being diagnosed with this blood disease was usually a death sentence. Even 25 years ago, only four percent of children diagnosed with the most common form of childhood Leukemia survived. Today, 87 percent of children with Leukemia survive. Ned’s brother Tom, who was born one year after Ned died, raises money for the Leukemia and Lymphomas Societies Team in Training several times at the San Diego Rock and Roll marathon. The Rock Race has been dedicated to Ned for the past three years.

For complete results, go to: http://www.highsierratri.org/club_events.html

 

 

Gene Burke won the 70-74 age class.

Ned's Mammoth Rock Race is dedicated to Tom Schemenauer's brother Ned, who died of Leukemia at age 6.

Lorenzo Herrara finished second in his 55-59 age class

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"One of my all-time race runs," says race director Alana Levin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Awards were made by Bishop potter Theresa Otto/TT Pottery Designs.

 

 

Categories: All Things Mammoth | 2 Comments

Around the corner

Moving into fall. Early last week I saw a clump of yellow aspen leaves bordering Sierra Star Golf Course. A few minutes later I picked up a single yellow leaf off Lodestar Road. For nearly a month, I’d noticed an increasing number of denuded pine cones – squirrels busy stashing food for the winter.

This past weekend, the pine butterflies were in fluttering force. The small, delicate, white with black-lace-edges butterflies are out from August to October, laying their eggs before winter.

There are so many clues that summer is waning in the mountains. Season changes are much more subtle in southern California, but definitely there. One summer when we were living in Santa Barbara the maple trees on our street began turning red in August.

 

Late August, Seaside

 

I rise from a chilled night, sleeping deep

to find sweetgum leaves quivering

against a gray rain sky.

 

Two weeks ago in baking heat

they began blushing, red encroaching green.

By the time September turns

these leaves will finish in claret splendor.

 

I remember now how August can fall in the mountains

scrub oaks rusting the slopes, aspens

firing to gold up high near tree line.

Turns more than leaf color:

curls me inward,

hibernation of the spirit and

time of deep nesting, couched in

swirling words of thick novels and

Rachmaninov’s romantic drifts,

and reflecting the glow of a fireplace

seen from without on icicled nights.

 

There is so much movement in the

simple shiver of August’s leaf.

 

Categories: Poetry | 2 Comments