I've been reflecting a bit and thinking about how lucky I am to have gotten into skiing. Skiing and snowboarding had a beyond positive impact in my youth. I was literally getting dropped off with a cooler full of PBJ sandwiches at opening, and picked up at closing. Many times they closed early because I was the only person there. Hiking little jumps I made trying to learn tricks or just getting my laps on.
Eventually it also became my workplace. Like many people I started instructing when I was 14. I did that for 3 seasons and liked it but I didn't feel like I could do it forever. The next season I got hired at another mountain to teach. I was also nearly fired before I taught my first lesson for building a booter in the middle of a trail(no park jumps yet). They needed help in the park and offered me a job. I got the fuck out of ski school and started full throttle down my life path of terrain park degeneracy.
At one point I was worried, hell my family was worried too about my job, especially the seasonal aspect. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with myself. Should I go to college even though I can't afford it? Should I get a different job? I sure as hell didn't expect to be able to mix traveling with ski area work.
One day I was sitting eating lunch with my dad. I mentioned that I wanted to work in Australia, maybe NZ, I even found a place to Africa. It was kind of cool friggin starry bra. I mean, everyone has ideas, but many times those ideas are fleeting, left unrealized. I remember telling my parents I had landed a job in NZ and was leaving. It was my first international trip. A head injury the day after landing the job left the opportunity uncertain at best, but I wasn't going to let anything keep me from getting down there.
I was a pile of insecurity. I didn't know if flying would affect me, if I could snowboard, or even do my job. Things were a little tough, especially at first, but I made the best of it. I was more irritable than my normal self, prone to terrible headaches, and def not in a position to hit my head any more. I couldn't drink and was allergic to cigarettes and highly sensitive to loud noise.
I enjoyed every step of the way but sometimes I forget how lucky I am. A strange set of random events led me to skiing. Both my parents lost their jobs and we moved to upstate NY and the school had a skiing program with the local hill.
Eventually I was able to make it to all those countries to work and snowboard. I actually did ski a bit in Africa, although NZ and Australia I only snowboarded.
Honestly when I was bored, and probably high, looking up random ass ski areas around the world, even I wasn't convince I was actually going to go to any of them. Like any other job, some days suck, some days are rad, but I love what I do and how it allows me to stay connected to an industry that's brought me a lifetime of joy(and a few broken bones) Skiing didn't change my life, it laid the foundation for everything else that came after.
I'm sure, I'm really sure, I could find a higher paying job. The ski industry pays like total ass but I still love it. It's been a creative outlet, a job, an excuse to travel the world. Looking back I honestly owe everything to that second hand pair of red atomic straight skis. That was the beginning, the rest is history.
Eventually it also became my workplace. Like many people I started instructing when I was 14. I did that for 3 seasons and liked it but I didn't feel like I could do it forever. The next season I got hired at another mountain to teach. I was also nearly fired before I taught my first lesson for building a booter in the middle of a trail(no park jumps yet). They needed help in the park and offered me a job. I got the fuck out of ski school and started full throttle down my life path of terrain park degeneracy.
At one point I was worried, hell my family was worried too about my job, especially the seasonal aspect. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with myself. Should I go to college even though I can't afford it? Should I get a different job? I sure as hell didn't expect to be able to mix traveling with ski area work.
One day I was sitting eating lunch with my dad. I mentioned that I wanted to work in Australia, maybe NZ, I even found a place to Africa. It was kind of cool friggin starry bra. I mean, everyone has ideas, but many times those ideas are fleeting, left unrealized. I remember telling my parents I had landed a job in NZ and was leaving. It was my first international trip. A head injury the day after landing the job left the opportunity uncertain at best, but I wasn't going to let anything keep me from getting down there.
I was a pile of insecurity. I didn't know if flying would affect me, if I could snowboard, or even do my job. Things were a little tough, especially at first, but I made the best of it. I was more irritable than my normal self, prone to terrible headaches, and def not in a position to hit my head any more. I couldn't drink and was allergic to cigarettes and highly sensitive to loud noise.
I enjoyed every step of the way but sometimes I forget how lucky I am. A strange set of random events led me to skiing. Both my parents lost their jobs and we moved to upstate NY and the school had a skiing program with the local hill.
Eventually I was able to make it to all those countries to work and snowboard. I actually did ski a bit in Africa, although NZ and Australia I only snowboarded.
Honestly when I was bored, and probably high, looking up random ass ski areas around the world, even I wasn't convince I was actually going to go to any of them. Like any other job, some days suck, some days are rad, but I love what I do and how it allows me to stay connected to an industry that's brought me a lifetime of joy(and a few broken bones) Skiing didn't change my life, it laid the foundation for everything else that came after.
I'm sure, I'm really sure, I could find a higher paying job. The ski industry pays like total ass but I still love it. It's been a creative outlet, a job, an excuse to travel the world. Looking back I honestly owe everything to that second hand pair of red atomic straight skis. That was the beginning, the rest is history.
