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The Annual SLHMTB Team Extreme Telemark
Dream Competition For Skiers Who Think They are Better Than Tele-Butt.
Greetings from Tele Ranger Secret mountain
Hideaway. Much has happened this year but rather than bore you
with every little cheerleader squad or famous celebrity or important
politician that we had to cater to this season I thought I would
tell you about this years Extreme Competition that just ended
a few weeks ago. First off...as far as I can tell, no one died
and no one’s missing. That’s very good and speaks volumes
about the quality of this years bourbon.
This year’s contestants were also of
very good quality. Just to get in potential contestants had to
send a video, a resume and a three page essay entitled ‘Why
I think I’m better than Tele-Butt’. Between you and
me I didn’t even look at the videos. The essays however
were great! I wouldn’t want to break my vow of confidentiality
but I will tell you this...there is a lot of ego out there! Go
figure. In the end we picked a team from Utah, British Columbia,
New England, Omaha, Tibet (just for laughs), Norway, Australia
and Queens. Our judges were once again the tribal elders from
the Thailand mountain tribe I am honorary king of. We find them
to be very fair, uninformed and amusing. They also always bring
the best tobacco in the world. It drives poor Dea insane but
I love the stuff.
The teams were all picked up at the local
airport, blindfolded and brought up to our Tele Ranger secret
Mountain hideaway. Before the official on mountain competition
could begin there was a mandatory three day bourbon imbibing
and the number by which the contestants would be skiing was determined
by the number in which they fell. The Tibetians, Dea and I were
the only ones left standing so we chose to go last. The Tibetans
said they would let the mountain decide. Right. We also used
those three days to go over the rules. There is inevitably a
lot of scrapping and whining and other nonsense that goes on
so this always seems like a good time to get it out of the way.
For instance, the Norwegian team complained that Leather Babe
should not be in the competition because she cheated last year.
So they say. The fact that she ended the day with very little
left on in the way of clothing had only to do with the incredibly
tight line she skied through the brush and if they were so distracted
they lost because of it it should be no fault of hers. But she
was a gentleman about it and said I should pick another partner
. So I picked Dea my dog which I don’t think made the Norwegians
any happier. The guys from Queens wanted to know why they couldn’t
take off their blindfolds. We told them it was because we didn’t
want them being able to find there way back but we didn’t
tell them everyone else had removed theirs already and it gave
us all a good laugh watching them trying to find the bathroom
for three days.
I should probably explain the rules for team
extreme telemark dream skiing to you. Basically it’s the
same as your usual extreme skiing but you have to do it with
a partner. You’re not only judged by the line you ski, the
tricks you do and speed but by how you interact with the other
skier. It makes for really cool wipeouts.
On the third day the sky cracked like a robins
egg and the powder shone brighter than Albert E. on five cups
of coffee. Yeeehaaaaaa!! Everyone put on skins and headed out
for the competition slope. The Tribal elders set up their many
brightly colored tents, lit up their pipes and started playing
on their drums. I love their drums!! and I love their tobacco!
The teams checked out the various lines using binoculars (all
except for the Queens team which still had on their blindfolds)
and with much gesturing and pointing worked out where they would
ski. I already knew the mountain like the back of my hand so
boogied down with the tribe. Dea on the other hand went out to
pea on every ones skis. Good dog Dea.
I suppose I should give you a blow by blow
description of how everyone did but to be honest, and I am always
honest, I didn’t see most of it. Between that tobacco, the
drumming and an annoying reporter that I thought had died but
somehow has managed to come back to haunt me I only caught glimpses
of it. The New Englanders went first and did real well on the
icy crags near the top but seemed to have some trouble in the
deeper snow near the bottom. I think that was because Dea peed
on their skis. It was the opposite for the team from Utah. They
practically fell of the ice at the top but pulled themselves
together in the deep snow. The Tibetans, whom had spent the last
three days meditating and.... my guess..praying that someone
show them how to ski were fascinating. Hey, you could never have
guessed from their essay they had never skied! Their red robes
were dazzling as they fell down the mountain side and their chant
of Om mani Padm um echoed off the cliffs along with the clanking
of their helmets against the rocks. They lived. A miracle.
Probably the most poignant were the boys from
Queens. It must have been hard enough getting up the cliffs blindfolded.........but
it couldn’t have been easy going down that way. They picked
the sickest line of the day too. Of course they are probably
the only ones that never saw it. They lived too. Another miracle.
Probably the best line of the day (other than
mine of course) was the one skied by the ladies from British
Columbia. They skied the whole top section in perfect syncronicity
(not bad for a 65 degree pitch) and at one point took turns jumping
over each other. They took a 150 foot cliff holding hands singing
‘We Are Family’ . Even the judges stopped dancing to
watch!
By three o'clock all had skied but Dea and
me and we waited for everyone’s bones to be set and drinks
to be served and for everyone to settle into their seats. Then
she and I went to climbing and got to the top just as the sun
was full on the south face. Beautiful. I clamped Dea into her
Teleboard and we reviewed the line we had chosen. Frankly we
had done this so many times before it was second nature but then
skiing being the inherently dangerous sport that it is you don’t
want to become too complacent. Remember that! I took a swig off
my flask and pulled out a fresh cigar. Wanting to be at one with
the elements I decided to light my cigar with a fire starter
someone had sent me. It works on the friction of the air...or
something like that. You are supposed to put some kind of wood
chips into the chamber and then slam it down but through experience
I found it was best to fill the chamber with gasoline. A good
slam against the rocks and I not only lit my cigar but blew that
fire starter into the air like a rocket. Yeeeeehaaaaaa!!!
I looked over at Dea and gave her the kind
of grin you give when you are about to bedazzle a group of tele
skiers that think they are the best and she gave me the kind
of grin a dog gives when she knows if she does well she will
be given more goat chews than a dog can eat . Then we looked
down at the 70 degree pitch we had chosen and just as we were
getting ready to push off I remembered something. I took the
cigar from my mouth, cupped my hands and yelled down to the watching
crowd “Take the blindfolds off the Queen’s boys!!”
It would have been a shame for them to have missed my run.
Dea and I pushed off and free fell the first
70 feet. Before we hit I dropped down beneath her and she landed
on my shoulders so our first five turns were in totem position.
Rippen! I tossed her off and we figure eighted backwards tele
turns for another five and then jumped a 200 foot cliff riding
the tops of the pines. I did my first flying ski change, taking
off the Snow Rangers and switching to a brand new pair of Jaks
Karhu had forced on me. They took the air nicely and landed in
a solid manner but frankly I didn’t have time for a ski
review..... the rocks were coming up quickly. I did my second
ski change and hit the rocks wearing an old pair of Head Standards.
When we got out of the rocks the Heads were shredded. We took
another jump off a fifty footer and I put a fresh Teleboard on
Dea (the Fey brothers are very generous to Dea, giving her all
the boards she wants) and I changed into a pair of 10ex’s.
By now the judges tent was practically upon us and Dea and I
flew right through it grabbing a drum in the process. We hit
the last jump leaping over the crowd as I played a raga and Dea
gyrated and then we both came down backwards, did three more
powder eights, two charlestons and finished with a double tip
role and Dea in my arms (always a sentimental favorite). Needless
to say the crowd went wild and Dea and I won.
As usual there was a little bit of complaining
by contestants about unfair judging etc. but that just seems
to come with the territory when you are the best. I’m learning
to live with it.
All for now.
Your pal,
Sir Lord High Mountain Tele-Butt, Phd
As always brought to you by Altoid Mints. The original, celebrated
and curiously strong. just like Tele-Butt
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