JAY RAND
Lake Placid, NY
Northwood School, University of CO, US Ski Team, 1968 Olympic Team
jayr@nysef.org
Homeward Bound- The Odyssey of the
Salisbury to Lake Placid Journey
A very memorable trip home from Salisbury to Lake Placid
took place following the 1967 Annual Eastern Championships. It will forever be
etched in my mind!
At that time I was attending Northwood School along with my
close friend and jumping teammate Ulf Kvendbo, who was a member of the Canadian
Olympic Team. Tragically, Ulf passed on a few years ago, but will forever have
a place in my thoughts, and I’m sure he is fondly remembered by many of you
jumpers who knew him. Ulf and I were fortunate to have our good friend, teacher
and coach – Larry Stone (Stoney) guiding us through the very memorable high
school years.
As a sidebar, Stoney had a free period prior to his Shakespeare
class, which Ulf and I were happily a part of. Very often Stoney would try and
use his free period to get a few practice jumps in at Intervale. Sometimes he
would get back just in the nick of time for class. The classroom happened to be
on the second level and could be accessed by a fire escape system. More than
once we would lock the windows just as he got to the access platform so he
couldn’t get in. Down the stairs he would fly mumbling something in an unknown
language. Somehow we did manage to pass the class, but Ulf and I thought it was
only because he didn’t want us to have to retake the class again the following
year. (In all due respect Stoney was an excellent teacher and we learned quite
a bit that year.)
In any case, as always, we had a great weekend of jumping at
Salisbury even though it had been extremely frigid. Little did we know that the
trip home would provide us with a new meaning of the word cold! I can still
remember that the temperatures were predicted to drop to -30 degrees that
evening. Following the awards and banquet, which I believe were at the Town
Hall, we grabbed our bags from the White Hart Inn and boarded our luxurious
carriage, a mini Volkswagen, which
possessed a great deal of personality and charisma, but lacked what was needed
most that night - a working heater. Ulf was a pretty big guy so I packed myself
into the back seat with most of the luggage and he rode shotgun. Off we went
with three pair of jumping skis tied tightly on to the back, sticking high
above the roof like gigantic antennas, which gave new meaning to the name of
the VW Bug.
OK, nothing could possibly make the situation more
uncomfortable right? Wrong – Carbon monoxide fumes were pretty strong so we had
to roll down the windows which, of course, added a slight wind chill factor of
seemingly 100 below zero at the time. I can still see Coach Stone furiously scraping the inside of
the windshield while trying to stay on the road. It was probably good that even
when maxed out the speedometer never went above 60MPH. (Although that may not
have been accurate either.)
Anyway about four hours later we arrived in Keene Valley
dressed in full winter gear including hat and goggles covered with frost and
barely able to move with only a bit over 20 miles to go. By then no one had
much feeling anywhere from head to toe. The radio didn’t work and even Coach
Stone’s humming of Rolling Stones tunes (no pun intended) had ceased.
We are almost home I thought, or are we? What was that
glowing red warning light that had mysteriously appeared and what was that new
hot smell. Yup – it was the engine warning light telling us that the Bug needed
oil pronto! It was about 1am so no gas stations were open. What to do?
Not to panic, Coach Stoney mumbled, I’ve been here before
and always carry a few extra quarts for emergencies. 10w30 that is! That’s
great, Ulf and I both chattered, but then reality struck again. The engine was
in the back and the skis were all tied firmly to the cover of it. Honestly, I
don’t recall if it was a rack of sorts, but I do recall that we had a hell of a
time getting them off with numb fingers. We actually just ended up cutting them
with a knife, and it was easier to just open the sun roof and stick the skis
through it so that is how we finished the journey -30 degrees, windows and now
sun roof open. With winds whistling through our hair we drove down Main Street
in Lake Placid feeling no pain and for that matter not much of anything – and
that’s how it happened – the true odyssey of the Salisbury to Lake Placid journey
by Coach Stone, Jay Rand and the late Ulf Kvendbo.
Ulf Kvendbo from the 1968 Olympics in Grenoble. |
Jay Rand (center row, 7th from left) in a Lake Placid Ski Club team photo from around 1960. |
DUCKING THE ROPE. In March 2014 Whiteface Mt.opened a new run named in Jay's honor. |
EDITOR'S NOTES
To see Ulf Kvendbo's Olympic bio- CLICK HERE
To see Jay Rand's Olympic bio- CLICK HERE