USANS STORY PROJECT 6-DEC 2018- SCOTT NICHOLS

Things in Salisbury, CT were looking pretty bleak just before the 2016 Junior Nationals. SCOTT NICHOLS Lyme, NH/Ford Sayre Ski Club scott@tarmusa.com  Salisbury Ants Have you ever seen ants react to an intrusion on their hill?  They seem to emerge from every direction and then converge as an army to rebuild.  Such as it was in February 26th of 2016 at Satre Hill in Salisbury, CT for the Junior Nationals. The weather had been terrible for winter sports.  Early in the week the hill crew had been blessed with air just cold enough to blow snow.  Then came the rain in torrents and 40 degree temperatures.  The snow was washing away.  On the afternoon of the 25th it looked like all was lost, but there was hope; cold weather was forecast.  Plus, the folks at Salisbury Winter Sports Association (SWSA) had been smart by stockpiling snow earlier gathered from local parking lots. By shuffling the schedule with the races coming on Friday and the jumping on Saturday, the Directors believed they could make the Junior Nationals happen.  This was about more than finding snow and finding time; this was about tremendous planning and organization. Like ants they went to work as soon as the temperature dropped the night of the 25th.  The snow guns were running.  In the early morning of the 26th they also began trucking snow to the top of the jump.  Keep in mind that SWSA was hosting the ski races at Mohawk Mountain at the same time that the hill was being brought back from the brink of disaster.  It takes an army. Here's where it gets interesting.  This crew had a truck drive up to the base of the trestle and dump snow into a pile.  A skid steer then moved the snow to another pile closer to the top of the jump.  It was muddy and access for the truck to the knoll wasn't possible.  After the skid steer dumped the snow, men with shovels quickly scooped the snow into a John Deere forage blower, which was connected to about 60 feet of 18" plastic culvert placed six feet up on scaffolding.  The culvert conveyed the blown snow across the top of the knoll.  From there the snow fell down onto sheet plastic which allowed the snow to slide to the base of the hill.  As they added more snow, they pulled the sheet plastic higher and higher to snow the hill from the base up.  All the while, there was another crew with rakes and shovels working the outrun, a man in a skid steer, and another in the antique Thiokol Hydromaster cat down below. I have never seen such dedication, ingenuity, and reverence to a sport in my life.  They all smiled and they performed, as hill athletes, setting examples for skiers who could only have a vague idea how much effort it took to succeed. The "ants" brought things to form.  Even the weather was wrestled into submission. Salisbury's Kenny Barker admires the outcome from the judges' stand. HOW THEY DID IT - see video link, here- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q7jSBxv6Tig&app=desktop: 1. Stockpile snow from parking lots around town, use heavy equipment to move it into position. 2.  Feed massive "salad shooter" that shoots snow into 18" culvert piping. 3.  Plastic, whose length can be adjusted, at the end of culvert pipe delivers snow down the hill

USANS STORY PROJECT 5-DEC 2018- ERIC HAGFORS

THE SAME ONLY DIFFERENT- Eric Hagfors back at the St Paul hill- back in the air!- after an 8 year hiatus.

ERIC HAGFORS
ehagfors@gmail.com
 
January 29th, 2016- The Master

Making the drive to the St. Paul Ski Club, the butterflies arose as if on cue. Vespers of a past life flickered in the background: the tan interior of a Grand Cherokee, the foamy aroma of a Descente jump suit, a passenger...

It was like pulling up in a halfway broken time machine.  Many people appeared unchanged in a decade: identical hat, jacket, and humor.  Others had produced offspring and were now inhabiting an entirely different universe.  The place itself seemed immune to age. What a wonderful family to come home to. They seemed pleased by my attendance.

In honesty I was half terrified.  This dream, this thing in my life removed and re-realized, was now culminating.  There had been work, sacrifice, pain, joy... I had rebuilt my life and my way of thinking. For this, right now. What now, what after?

Belief prevailed.  Autopilot flicked on and ritual heightened to spiritual. I trudged up the trestle, thinking of my friend Dave, all my friends, the passage of time and the sting of regret.  

All at once, there I was.  Back up top. I poked at my ipod, took a deep breath and let go.



NOTE- To see a really cool video of Eric's jump (and tribute to Dave Edlund)- click on image below or this link- https://youtu.be/OgnzHg5JAkQ

USANS STORY PROJECT 4-DEC 2018- SHAWN COSTELLO

An old postcard recalls the Big Nansen ski jump.  Shawn Costello recounts the last competition on the hill - which he oversaw- in 1985.   SHAWN COSTELLO Berlin, NH Scostello@berlincity.com BIG NANSEN 1985- THE DAY SKI JUMPING DIED I felt very lucky growing up in a "skiing" family, from my earliest memories, winter meant skiing. As soon as I was old enough I became a member of the Junior Nansen Ski Club just like my older brother and entered the world of ski competition. The JNSC encouraged all the major forms of skiing Alpine, Cross Country and Jumping. Most of the young skiers entered all three events. A broad education for sure. As the competitors grew up, many found that they enjoyed or fared better in one of the forms of competition better than the others, basically Alpine vs Nordic. Some would continue in all the events right into high school, because that's what they always did, I was one of those guys. I was not a star but I enjoyed being part of the team. When I graduated from high school I hung up my jumping skis and began a period of recreational skiing. I never left the Nansen Ski Club or the Nansen Ski Jump. I became ever more involved in the mechanics of ski jumping. I got to work with some amazing characters at the ski jump, as I am sure this was true in all the clubs that put on large competitions. Like many club members I got to do just about every job that "needed" to be done, another broad education. During this time I actually stopped skiing for a while but every year I was back on the hill getting the jump ready to do its thing. As the years passed I noticed that the number of club members also known as "workers" was getting smaller each year. This was at a time when getting the jump ready was becoming more mechanized. Where at one time close to 100 people with wicker baskets would snow the chute, the baskets gave way to 55 gallon drums of snow winched up to the top and the snow was placed where needed. Snow making was tried but the early technology was not up to the needs of a ski jump. In the end a sled that held 6 yards of snow was filled hoisted onto the jump and then winched to the spot where it was needed and repeat, the chute could be snowed in one day. The machines made up for the lack of manpower and the event lived on. The local chamber of commerce saw the draw of the ski jump and formed an area wide competition known as "Winterfest'" It had jumping, alpine, cross country, biathlon, snowmobile and ice sculpture competitions, it was initially well received and had a carnival atmosphere. During this time the small dedicated crew had the jump ready for competition on the day it was needed, besides the Ski Club, the State of NH, the City of Berlin and several businesses supplied equipment and man power. Then came 1985, I agreed again to help get the jump ready, many of the businesses and other critical helpers would do their part on jump day. I went up to the jump to see what was needed and found that a large section of the deck had not weathered the off season very well. The deck needed to be repaired before snow came either from the sky or the sled. I looked around and it happened that day, I   was alone- no more "characters" were left I was a crew of one, and running out of time. I went down to the Chamber of Commerce office and said I have to hire a crew to fix the deck and snow it, thankfully the director agreed. I called the New Hampshire Employment Security office and asked if they could find 10 people with some carpentry skills and they said yes. I said send them up to the jump tomorrow morning. They showed up and while happy to get some work, they liked that they were working on the "jump."  In time the deck was repaired and I kept some of the crew to snow the chute, they got it done. It seemed to me that I was seeing "The Day Ski Jumping Died."  The members had died, aged, moved away, lost interest or started to spend the winter in sunny climes. I made it through, there were only 10 jumpers and to their credit they each made 5 jumps to give the crowd a show. It had an effect on me and after the event was done and all the borrowed or rented equipment was returned I drove down the access road locked the gate and drove away not return to the site for 5 years and then another 15 years after that. Well, I got a call one day "Hey the state wants to do something with the jump, can you come to a meeting?"......Next thing I know the ski jump means something again, the old girl will feel skis on her deck at least one more time. All of those terrible feelings of "The Day Ski Jumping Died" have faded away and there I was the smiling guy congratulating Sara Hendrickson on her history making jump. Now instead of avoiding "Big Nansen" I cannot wait for the next competition! NOTE- Check out the Red Bull video of Sarah's leap off Big Nansen... with a cameo by Shawn Costello!  Click on image below or link is- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nIH01DgMOnI YouTube video recounts Sarah Hendrickson's jump off of Old Nansen in 2017... the first jump on the hill since 1985. Historic marker at the base of the jump give some history.

USANS STORY PROJECT 3-DEC 2018- JAMIE SCHOLL

Captain Grant Scholl, USAFA Sky Diving Team and C17 Pilot (bottom row far right)

JAMIE SCHOLL
Winter Park Nordic Team (we miss you)
jamie@schollassociates.com

Flying is more than a sport and more than a job; flying is pure passion and desire, which fill a lifetime.
                                                                                                                           WWII Aviator
Captain Grant, USAFA Sky Diving and C17

Wasn’t it just yesterday? I still see it so clearly: my twelve-year-old son Grant, sitting on the start bar of the K90 at Steamboat Springs, alone on the hill, focused on the tracks, waiting for my clear signal from the judge’s stand.  It was Saturday afternoon after the 1995 Winter Carnival junior competition was complete.  The Winter Park Jumping Team had  gone home. Grant wanted to stay so he could ski the K90 for the first time.

Grant had just become comfortable skiing the K60. The K90 was his Goliath to conquer.  With such a tenacious attitude, I didn’t want to disappoint him, but the hill was not open for training. The day before, the Ski Patrol was training for their night of flames performance and in the process traversed the in-run of the K90 leaving a large horizontal rut about ¾ of the way down the in-run. I asked Todd Wilson if Grant could ski the K90 if I fixed the rut.  Todd reluctantly agreed, so we spent an hour raking and packing it out.  Grant and I both knew this might be his only chance to ski the K90 and he wanted to meet this challenge and conquer it.

Before his slow ride up the lift by himself, my instructions to him were simple: (1) don’t put on your skis until you have committed yourself to go; (2) when you get on the start bar there is no turning back; and, (3) when I drop my hand push off the bar…no hesitation.  We both knew this was this one of the greatest challenges of his young life and he would be all by himself at the start. The mental fortitude to fly was something he would have to find on his own at the top.  I told him one last thing, “Remember son, when you put on your helmet you become invincible and when you put on your goggles you are indestructible!” A turn of phrase I used as encouragement for him since he was little.


Young Grant in Steamboat in 1995... ready for his first ride on a K90... just waiting for dad to give the green light.

When I saw Grant was ready I dropped my hand, and off he went exactly as instructed.  He pushed off the bar and settled in to his very solid in-run position.   As I watched him descend, time stopped and my vision tunneled as he hit the “fixed rut” and his left ski came out of the track about to take out his right ski.  I had a slow-motion vision of Wide World of Sports’ agony of defeat.  For Grant, it was no big deal, just a bump in the road to success.  While maintaining his in-run position, he calmly lifted his left ski and put it back in the track with enough time to make an impressive jump of about 45 meters. My body-systems resuscitated.  I was able to take a deep breath and feel the pride and relief as I saw him ski out the flight of a lifetime.

I share this story not because Grant became a noteworthy ski jumper but because  his attitude, resilience and strength anchored him to face larger opportunities and challenges.  As his father, I know Grant’s grit and courage came from facing Goliaths and his time as a ski jumper helped to shape this determination.

Grant jumped competitively for one more year before his interest turned to ball sports.  Out of High School he was recruited to play football for the Air Force Academy where he graduated in 2007.  He then went on to flight school for two years where he became Captain of a Globemaster III, the billion-dollar C17 cargo jet.  He flew missions all over the world, many of which he cannot speak about.  He then returned to the Academy to fly the jump-plane for the Wings of Blue sky diving team where he also mentored Cadets on the fortitude to fly.  Along the way he logged over 100 sky dives.  Like the WWII Aviator, Grant agrees that, “Flying is pure passion and desire, which fill a lifetime.”

Grant is now a Major in the Air Force and a father of four little wannabe flyers.  I am obviously a proud Dad and now Gramps. I can’t emphasize enough the significance the sport of ski jumping can have on a young person.  Sports develop a person in powerful ways.  A sport like ski jumping is truly unique in the way it refines one’s ability to overcome any obstacle in life.

The greater the obstacle, the more glory in overcoming it.
                                                                            Molière


United States Air Force Academy Wings of Blue Sky Diving Team.

USANS STORY PROJECT 2-DEC 2018- SUSAN MORGAN

OCT 2018, LAKE PLACID, NY-  DENNIS MORGAN complets the a full circle that started with his mother and grandparents in the early 1980's. SUSAN MORGAN susanmorganpt@gmail.com Remembering Lake Placid Embracing winter was a must if you grew up just outside Rochester, NY where lake effect snow was the norm.  As a young girl, I learned to cross country ski with my parents.  A typical family vacation over February break was a trip to cross country ski in the Adirondacks. Some of my most vivid memories of these ski vacations are of visiting Lake Placid with my parents after the 1980 Winter Olympics.  I remember how excited the town was about the Miracle on Ice when the USA Men’s Hockey team upset Russia to advance to the gold medal game.  I remember skiing the cross country trails at Mt. Van Hoevenberg and thinking how cool am I skiing on the same trails as Olympians.  I remember riding in a 4 person bobsled with my dad, a driver and a brakeman.  I remember visiting the Olympic ski jumping complex.  I remembering riding the elevator up the 120 and the elevator operator telling us, “these ski jumpers don’t have both oars in the water.”  I remember watching a ski jumping competition in Lake Placid in the winter.  I remember thinking how crazy the ski jumpers were, but yet how cool it was that they could fly. I remember visiting Lake Placid one summer with my parents and boyfriend, Dennis.  This was the first time Dennis had watched ski jumping live and the first time any of us had seen summer jumping. Fast forward to January 2001, Dennis and I have now been married for several years and have a 2 year old son.  We have just moved to North Conway, NH from Cleveland, OH to live in a ski town.  I remember reading the local paper and learning that Kennett High School has a ski jumping team!  I remember thinking high school ski jumping really?  Yes, but only in NH.  I remember every winter bundling up the family and heading out to the ski jumps on the Kanc for the 1 home ski jump meet Kennett would host each winter.  I remember thinking wow what a cool high school sport. I remember our son, Dennis III (D3 as we call him) talking about ski jumping for Kennett when he got old enough.  I remember D3 as a 14 year old freshman taking his first jump at Proctor Academy.  He never even had ski jumping skis on until the night of his first meet.  I remember his Coach, Chip Henry, telling me not to worry, he will be fine!  I remember D3 and his Kennett teammate, Sean competing in their first non-high school ski jumping meet.  I remember D3’s first jump off the Lebanon 50.  I remember long drives from North Conway to Lake Placid for D3 to train.  I remember D3 calling to tell us he jumped the 90 in Lake Placid.  I remember Junior Nationals at Norge.  I remember D3’s first jumps in Park City as a freshman at the University of Utah.  I remember Junior Nationals in Alaska. But it is my most recent ski jumping memory that brings this story full circle.  I remember my parents, D3’s grandparents watching him jump the 90 in Lake Placid at Flaming Leaves this fall.  This was the 1st time they had seen their grandson jump a 90 and how special was it that it happened in Lake Placid!  I guess the elevator operator would say that D3 does not have both oars in the water!   Kennett (NH) High School ski jumping coach Chip Henry holds the hardware while the team celebrates its NH (National) High School title in February 2017.  Dennis finished 3rd to help secure the victory for Kennett.

USANS STORY PROJECT 1-DEC 2018- ALANA MAKI-FOUST

ANOTHER MAGICAL NIGHT- Moonlit practice at the jumps in Cameron, WI.

ALANA MAKI-FOUST
Cameron Ski Club
cameronskijumping@gmail.com
 
It’s Tuesday evening in mid-January. Kids are fed, grandma and grandpa are on the way. It’s about five degrees outside but no wind so we will have ski practice in Cameron, WI. Thankfully, it hasn’t snowed so our “10 meter” hill is ready to go. I round up my layers and the hot chocolate because the kids will want it tonight. Me and the hubby take off to the hill which is a 1 minute drive from our house. We arrive and get the propane heater started. Our “clubhouse” will only heat to about 40 degrees tonight but it’s better than 5. We plug in our light, take the fence off the landing, plug in the hot water, and the skiers start to arrive.

The kids take a run around the parking lot of the old elementary school, which is icy. We do some stretches and practice some in-run positions. The kids get “suited up”…well only about half of them have suits but we will get there. The first jumpers climb the snow pile made by the village loader with stairs up the side, carved and maintained by our ski parents. Right now the track is in great condition and the hill is fast so the best jumpers will fly up to 22 feet. We use feet because it sounds better that 7 meters.  Despite the cold, most of the kids go down and up and down and up, barely taking a break. They work on in-run positions, timing, and telemarks. Some of them just work on balance and standing up. There is a line of skiers at the top of our ski jump for an hour and fifteen minutes. Parents stand to the side of the hill, some help at the bottom taking off bindings. One person helps at the top, putting on bindings. I stand to the side, coaching and helping as needed.

Before I know it, it is time to wrap it up. Some kids have gotten more than 10 jumps. There was a crash or two. Some kids rode the “practice hill” (the hill to the side with no bump) all night. Everyone had fun. A dedicated parent rakes the landing and puts up the fence. We pack up, turn off the light and the heater. I get in my van. Like the kids, I am not cold because I have been running here and there all evening. I breathe. That was the most fun I have had since last practice. This is what I was meant to do. I play my part in keeping the sport alive and I enjoy it immensely. 
 

A STRONG SENSE OF CONNECTION- Alana and fellow Cameron coaches and jumpers.

USANS STORY PROJECT 31-DEC 2017- TOM DODDS

CURATOR'S NOTE-  For most of us, ski jumping is a love of flight (as Cooper captured beautifully yesterday) wrapped in family bonds (as father Tom writes poignantly, below).  I am so thankful to both of the Dodds for a) having the curiosity and fortitude to pursue the Big Nansen dream in the first place and b) sharing the adventure (from two perspectives!) with Story Project.  A great video of the entire adventure, shot and edited by Cooper's friend, wingman, and talented videographer, Joey Fishman, can be seen by clicking here.


AS DUSK FALLS- Tom and Cooper Dodds with Big Nansen, this day the tamed giant, in the background.

TOM DODDS
Ford Sayre Ski Club
thomas.m.dodds@hitchcock.org

I loved reading Cooper’s account of skiing “Big Nansen”. For me this was one in a long line of shared ski jumping experiences with my son. Herein I will try to capture some of the myriad emotions of that day from a coach/parent perspective.
 
Earlier in the winter Cooper had mentioned that there was an effort to reopen Nansen for a single jump by Sarah Hendrickson (national team member with family roots in New Hampshire). The Nansen of my youth is a fuzzy memory but I do recall the enormous trestle and its place among the more prestigious jumps in the east. Having missed the opportunity to jump the Dartmouth College jump the day it closed down in the 1980s, I figured that if he and his friends could avail themselves of this opportunity it would be a unique and memorable experience.

With the winter drawing to a close in early March, I was surprised by a message from Cooper that the exhibition jump was on and he was driving north from Brooklyn to see if he could get a jump. The energy, excitement and determination that he radiated upon his arrival in Hanover with friend Joey suddenly made this very real for me. I dealt with my nervous energy by planning and preparing. Aware of the notorious Nansen winds, I immediately checked the weather in Berlin, NH. Indeed the winds were forecast to steadily build during the day on both Saturday and Sunday.

We studied images of Sarah’s jump (which happened Saturday morning) that had already made it to the web. First came brainstorming ideas for a start, as her “start” seat lowered by cable would likely not be available to us. Joey and I cut several 2x6’s at an angle that could be attached to the deck of the trestle and provide a flat surface for Cooper to put on his skis. We figured we could string a 10 foot 4x4 between railing posts to serve as a “start bar”.
We awoke to an idyllic day for a drive and an adventure. A quick trip to the Roger Burt (Ford Sayre) jump in Hanover yielded a 10 foot 4x4, a 12 foot ladder section (in case the 4x4 was not long enough), crampons, rakes, shovel, broom and the famous Ford Sayre trackulator. Driving north I felt a blend of excited anticipation and nervous energy. I was touched to be part of this shared experience and was intent upon my support/enabling role but desperately wanted to make sure that Cooper had the space and capacity to choose NOT to jump. I feared that the presence of Joey and I as well as the slow trickle of well wishes from Eastern ski jumping comrades might make him feel pressure to jump.

Arriving to the massive tower silhouetted against the clear blue sky was exhilarating. It appeared that a sno-cat had either repeatedly slid or dropped its blade while descending the hill – leaving longitudinal gouges and mounds of snow on the landing. My immediate impression was that with our small crew the landing hill was not salvageable. I was disappointed for Cooper but somewhat relieved that the decision of whether or not to jump had been taken out of our hands. We all seemed quite content with the adventure, the planning, the companionship and now the opportunity to take in this majestic trestle. We scampered up the overgrown and collapsed landing hill steps and then worked our way up the renovated trestle. The track – a narrow strip of snow on the trestle – was breaking down but appeared skiable. Standing on the table after an hour of sightseeing, Cooper and I exchanged a look - we had worked hills together before and maybe we could pull this off??

Avoiding a handful of snowboarders who were enjoying some beers and taking a few turns, I started working my way down the landing hill. I spent the first 2 hours working down from the knoll, through the P point and toward the K point – territory that Cooper would ultimately sail over! We picked rocks and broken stumps off the hill, tried to break down the longitudinal ridges, and raked dirty ice balls into the depressed areas. With the afternoon wearing on, I got down to the lower part of the hill and realized that there was still major work to be done from above K down through the transition (and I was tiring fast!). At this point I reached the conclusion that our day was done, but Cooper convinced me to let him run the landing hill to simply see how bumpy it actually was. I worked earnestly in the transition for another 30 minutes and then gave him the okay.

With the possibility that he might actually take this jump those coach/parent emotions percolated up once again. I wanted him to know that I was confident in his ability to handle the hill while still allowing the space NOT to jump. I wanted him appropriately aware of deficiencies on the hill without allowing my anxieties to needlessly grow doubts in his mind. After 26 years of doing this dance together we are getting to be pretty good partners!

With dusk beckoning, Joey and I turned in earnest to the inrun. I tried to trackulate the disintegrating track, but my trackulator did not match the dimensions of the track, and I was making things worse. I had intended to measure the hang of the take-off but I forgot my level. We hustled our makeshift standing platform and barstart up the trestle. The 4x4 proved too short but the 12 foot ladder fit just barely. I quickly screwed the platform into the deck about where I thought Sarah had started the day before. Cooper walked up without his skis to check the start and  inrun one last time. He signaled pleasure with the way things looked but later confided that he had expected me to put the start slightly lower (I suspect he said nothing because the hour was getting late, my drill was dying, my hands were frozen and my knuckles were bleeding!).
 
I refer you to Cooper’s piece for a description of the jump. I still struggle to summarize the impetus and motivation for his doing this and my enabling it. The simple love of flying. The opportunity to take on an historic hill that he had heard about from many of us. The potential that the opportunity might never arise again. The challenge and exhilaration of taking on and moving through so many fears and unknowns. The deep unease I felt as a parent realizing that I could not control this – could not know if we could construct a safe start, could not know if the track would hold together, could not know the appropriate speed to take, could not know if the winds would gust, and, worst of all for me, could not repair the landing hill to my standards. No, I will never forget this.
 
The snowboarders erupted with Cooper’s jump and one of them posted a video of the jump on Facebook. I will leave you with one of the comments about the shared video: “You jumped for the fun man, no crowd. Heart jumping. Class above class. Congratulations. Shake your hand some time.”