I know a bunch of kids, that grew up at the lab, that turned in to rippers.
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I know a bunch of kids, that grew up at the lab, that turned in to rippers.
[QUOTE=Shredhead;4934301]I know a bunch of kids, that grew up at the lab, that turned in to rippers.[/QUOTE
Yeah because their parents throw them out of the house if they aren't 98% or better at everything they do. ;)
Here's some weird stuff for y'all.
http://www.lucypringle.co.uk/photos/2001/aug.shtml
Local kids are rippers cause the public schools bus them to the resort to ski every Fri.
I wish I had that for PE class.
I worked with a series of guys who sort of passed along a rental out in the desert near TP. There was a tame coyote who came with the house and was really friendly...like indoor friendly....but wouldn't leave with you if you wanted to take him, or would just return home if you brought him somewhere. So he just came with the house when the next guy rented it. He was self sufficient without being fed...I'm sure he found rabbits and mice and roadkill and stuff to eat; but he was a nice little guy and would hang out with people like any other pet dog when people were around.
I also had a coyote mix. She was fast and smart...one day I was driving down the canyon into town and "pet of the week" was on KTAO. They said "this looks like a dog that could help out on the ranch, a heeler chow mix, she just came in here and laid down in the corner even though there's all kinds of people coming and going"...and I thought: a cattle dog who has a calm demeanor...that sounds like a good dog. So I drove directly to KTAO and got her. When we got home to the ski valley, I let her out to do the business that night and she was gone. So, it's the ski valley, I figured she'd make her way home eventually or turn up in the village somewhere, the next day I'm looking around and I stop to talk to the gals at the post office. We're talking about the dog and they're like "oh yeah, we know her, everybody knows her, she's the local dog". Apparently Suzanne Mayer used to live behind the St. B in a van, and she had a few dogs, and this dog in particular would just roam the valley with the Stagg's dog. So, of all the places in Taos county and all the people in Taos county, I had ended up with this ski valley dog when Suzanne went to jail for some reason. I went over behind the St. Bernard and there she was...she'd just gone home. I don't remember when it was that I started realizing this was likely a coyote mix, probably when she started howling back at the coyotes and I took another close look at her and thought "oh, this is a coyote mix from the mesa". Eventually we worked it all out, and Suzanne visited a few times, and we moved around the county and then to Utah.
She was up on Kachina peak with my roommate Ed in the post season and saw some rabbit or something and hauled ass right off the huge cliff area down toward Williams Lake. Ed was all upset, sure she was dead or gone or whatever. She met him at the porch of our house. Apparently she billygoated down and just made her way home.
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Good story, very Taos
That (good) story made me think about some of the Taoseños/Taoseñas I know, and some stories like my one about the clinic owner's ex-wife that I can't really write down for the innerwebz, but hey, the touring up around Williams Lake is pretty good. :rolleyes:
To NM specific/weird shit...
I have never really payed attention when visiting, but how is Taos in town for ditch quantity/quality? Was curious if the Taos hum keeps La Llorona away, or if there aren't that many ditches to begin with. My home town (3.5 hours south) was spider webbed with irrigation ditches, and La Llorona RULED that fuckin' roost!
When I first moved to Taos I rented a room in this local guy's house. He was a pretty normal, pretty low-key quiet gay hairdresser....but his family in town were vatos. So his brother would come over drunk when he needed to get away from the cops or somebody was chasing him.
It was chaos at that place, and the racism (toward me) of this dude's family houseguests was palpable, so once I was in the ski valley for a few months and knew some skiers I found myself another living situation and jetted.
The next fall I was on my way back from a fire season out of town so I got a hold of this guy over the phone to see if I could rent a room for a month again just to simplify things and not have to camp out in November cold when I got into Taos. Sure he says, but this time it was a little studio apartment on the side of the house, and the nice gay hairdresser landlord had moved to another house in town and rented the other place to hispano gangsters from Denver. I found all this out when I got into town. So whatever, no big deal, I just keep to myself.
This was a one room deal, like a small hotel room, so the bed was right near the front door. One night at probably 2am or so, the door just explodes open and shouting and guns pointed at me, like right in my face, super bright lights right in my face. LET ME SEE YOUR HANDS, DON'T MOVE etc etc. I'm half awake...
WHERE'S MIGUEL? WHERE'S FUCKING MIGUEL? I'm like I don't know, I'm the only one who lives here, I just moved in a week ago. Please go through my apartment, it's all good, look through my car, it's all good. Let me put some coffee on for you guys....I'm just a skier, I fight fire in Oregon in the summer...yeah yeah, those guys next door are loco...I don't even know those guys.
We sort it all out, they're looking for my neighbor because he stabbed a guy. The next day there's blood all over the next porch and skid marks in the gravel driveway and shit.
That whole residence was a converted double wide with paper walls. I spent a lot of time hoping there would never be bullets ripping through....or that the cops wouldn't think I was into whatever my neighbors were into....or that my neighbors wouldn't think I was a problem and try to take me out. It was a long month before I moved into a place in the ski valley with a bunch of skiers for the winter. holy shit.
During that first week of arriving to Taos, one of my best friends from my Michigan hometown who was in the Air Force in Albuquerque came up to hang out and help me look for a place to live. We camped for a night in Hondo canyon, then stayed at the snowmansion and we'd kind of split up looking around town at ads on the corkboards at the laundrymat or the grocery store or restaurants and whatnot. making calls from payphones. Ah, the pre cell phone, pre internet days.
So buddy Steve is taking phone numbers from ads at the grocery store and this old lady asks if he's looking for a place to stay...why yes, he is...he's helping his friend find a place. She says we can stay at her place while we look if we give her a ride back to her place. Great! Score!
So we end up back at this lady's house in Valdez. It's all dark and creepy in there, she's talking nonstop bullshit about energy and crystals and the great spirit and who knows what, but we're indoors with a free place to stay, so whatever right. The next day we split up again, I go looking for jobs and housing, Steve had agreed to give this lady a ride around to do some errands. Later we meet up and Steve is just like "I'm going back to Albuquerque, this place is fucked up, this lady is fucked up...I feel like she's going to kill me in my sleep or something". So he takes off, and I take his advice and bug out to the snowmansion.
Years later, my buddies from the fire crew end up renting that exact house in Valdez. When he's moving in, he finds this creepy huge journal/photo album in the corner of this tool shed behind the main house. Each day there's just a poorly written scrawl of this man's horror life. Like "I WANT TO GET OUT OF THE SHACK AND GO TO TOWN BUT SHE WON'T LET ME." And each day there was a terrifying polaroid selfie and the entry would be signed Frank Banks.
To the best we could tell, this woman had a retarded man living in her tool shed who was more or less a captive.
It was so horrifying you just had to laugh, kinda....like, there's nothing you could do about it in retrospect, and we're a bunch of sick fire crew ski bum assholes basically, so all that season it was a running joke "I need to take a leak and Justin won't let me out of the truck- Frank Banks". or "My sandwich tastes like dog shit. -Frank Banks". "I've been out of clean underwear for a month -Frank Banks".
fucking Frank Banks.....fucking creepy lady....fucking Taos man.
The landlord for that house in Valdez was a guy known to my friends who rented it as "Tony Black". Why Tony Black? Apparently to differentiate himself from Tony Red.
How do I know this? Because I eventually rented a place from Tony Red. The place I rented was a space walled off in Tony Red's house in upper ranchitos. The setup was down a one lane road that contained 100% members of Tony's family, and me. The middle aged and younger guys across the dirt courtyard were burglars, they'd do contracting jobs, drywall, to scout places, then go back and rob them. That was their profession. They sold pot and coke, and stole stuff from rich peoples' houses. They took care of their grandpa Tony Red. When the police would come down the long one lane dirt road into the compound, everyone knew well in advance and they all holed up in their houses. Nobody knew nothing.
I didn't learn all this right away, it took time.
Tony Red drank a case of Tecate every day. One time, I said a pleasant howdy to Tony Red as he was heading, wasted, from his truck to his front door. He staggered at me, "do you know me? Do you...know....me?" he reached up (I'm way bigger than this little old mexican man) and grabbed my shirt collar and yanked me downward. "I'm Tony Red motherfucker! hahahahahah!"
I said "Tony, take it easy man, it's all good".
Tony Red's eyes were yellow. Tony was probably dying of liver disease.
Various family members reacted to me in a variety of ways. There was an old woman who would become instantly terrified of seeing a white man in the compound, she'd run screaming into the house. I told her middle aged son I was sorry to have somehow scared her, he explained she didn't understand why there was a white guy in their ranchito. One of the many middle aged sons would be all over me any time he saw me, asking for a ride into town, asking to borrow money, looking at my stuff in the house--probably eyeing it all up for pawn moves. One of the other sons saw this and ended up beating this guy up, then he would look at me across the way with this look of resentment. Sometimes he'd still come over and ask to borrow money or get a ride into the plaza.
I kept this place for a long time after I stopped sleeping there because there was a garage and I kept my motorcycles there and did motorcycle work. The boys across the way were into motorcycles too, and eventually we started going on rides together. Once they realized I was OK, I got to learn a lot of the dynamic there. There were some members of the family who were dead set against having any white people in the compound, but to hassle me was threatening Tony Red's money, and nobody in the family messed with Tony Red's money. The rectangle of land had been divided and divided as the family expanded, until this part of it was full of Tony Red's family in a little circle of trailer homes. Yes, they knew Tony Black, fuck that guy. The boys did drywall and yanked stuff from rich peoples' houses when they were out of town and partied and sold some weed. They took their mud trucks in the hills and shot deer and grew herb. They were not cholos, they were like spanish cowboys. Their women were beautiful on a scale I can't really properly relate, and it was both a personal challenge to never view them in that light and a source of some respect from the boys that I was respectful and midwest-polite with their wives, sisters, girlfriends and daughters. The police knew Tony Red's truck and did not dare pull him over when he was weaving through the backroads on a bender. They had cousins in the police who helped keep everything smooth. They didn't worry too much about anything. They were some of the most laid back, mellow guys I've ever known.
If you drive down that one lane dirt road...
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into the compound
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there's going to be a pitbull jumping at your car door and ladies are going to retreat into the houses calling for the boys, and the boys are going to come out with a shotgun and ask where you think you're going eh...where you think this is holmes?
Dude, you had some fucked up experiences that I did not see in my years there.
I worked carpentry in the summers and was the only gringo one year on a crew. The chicano's were certainly tough and rough around the edges, but once your earned their respect and friendship, they are rock solid.
The chicanos in the ski valley were the same, they had your back once you befriended them.
One season and old Taoseno shows up from AK with 4lbs of Alaskan Thunderfuck. So through my chicano friends, I end up hooking up with him and I'm the only gringo in Taos with the goods. It was kind of funny as people were buying it by the gram back then. Of course, within a week or so this guy got ripped off and the rest of the weed he hadn't sold disappeared forever.
The one thing that bothered me about the locals was the littering. I never really said much, but I'd pick it up right in front of them. It's just a completely different culture and mindset.
Returning a couple years ago I was shocked at how many locals had passed away or were going through really tough times. It's a tough place to grow up, similar to a lot places in the US I suppose. It's just odd in Taos because it's such a beautiful place...with ripping skiing.
Bumpin this shit.
Nearing graduation from Fort Lewis College in 1993 I knew I wanted to ski bum for a while. I considered Jackson Hole, Alta, Big Sky, Bridger- I decided to go to Taos.
In the early fall of 93 I loaded up my life in my Toyota Tercel wagon and headed south. I had one phone number of a guy in Seco but when I called, it was disconnected. I camped out on the creek on the way up to the ski valley for about 7 days. Every few days when the newspaper came out I got one and looked for a place to live. I eventually found an affordable place with a couple artists. A couple days later I got a job up at Cottam's Ski Shop. I'd met John Cottam at a Wendys in town just prior to him and his family leaving for a trip to Europe. Cottam was a former junior Olympic skier. I'd raced in college and loved skiing. We connected and he gave me a job, a ski pass, and the freedom to ski the mountain every day.
That first season at Taos was incredible. Everything clicked. I hiked the lift-served terrain every day and got to know the area pretty well. When I first moved there, I thought I was a good skier. I had a lot to learn. I'd moved there because the area averaged over 300 inches per season and was known for tight, steep terrain with lots of chutes.
Out of the 4 seasons I lived there, I still didn't get to ski all the nooks and cranny lines I'd wanted to but, that's the allure of Taos. There is so much excellent terrain there, so many places to explore.
A few days after scoring my job at Cottam's I left for a 25 day Grand Canyon trip. When I came back it was early November. On the cover of the Taos newspaper there was a picture of Tim from Tim's Stray Dog skiing untracked powder pre-season at the ski valley. The next day I was up there skinning around the area on my 203 Evolutions, Silveretta 404s and Nordica race boots.
The deep blue skies of New Mexico were all around me and the snow was perfect.
I thought to myself, "What a great place".
I knew eventually we'd hear from at least one of the cottamites.
If you were there 4 seasons I got there the year after you left. Shift change.
Yep, I did a couple seasons at Cottam's and then scored a job at the Boot Doctors working the demo bench and tuning skis. Had lots of great times on the hill and working at the shop. Guided rafts down the Rio in the spring and summer for Native Sons Adventures- good times in New Mexico!
Quote:
Originally Posted by ill-advised strategy
There was a clothing embroidery company in D verbyears back that had an outlet store down on south Broadway that sold seconds, overruns etc. bought fleece vests, hats, shirts cheap. Got a Cottams staff vest. Never been down there though.
Rock hard and fucking cold today. Such a weird town.
as I said on the first page of the thread 5 years ago:Quote:
Originally Posted by Benny Profane
1st half of run: hammering rocks.
2nd half of run: trying to edge on hardpack with blown sidewalls.
I know it's good snow this year, but on a cold, hard day like today I bet you can see how it gets in a thin season with a 30" base for much of the year. It's not for the weak.
Chiming in as another Cottomite,
Ex-girlfriend in Portland finally put the kabosh on everything. No way a soon to be Naturopath could be with a simpleton working carpentry and at a ski factory. So in my ripe age of 29 decided it was time to try ski bumming for a bit. Thought about Jackson, Alta and Taos. My good friend, Bissell, who some of you guys probably know, always stoked up Taos while we worked together. Thought about it for a while and decided it was the spot.
Looking for a place to live via Craigslist was interesting. Looks pretty expensive for the most part but then I found it "$1 - simple living - Taos Ski Valley - Big Al" drop Al an email and he calls back at 4am the next morning. After a 30 minute chat we have a verbal handshake that I'll do work exchange with him for an 8x12 shack on his property in the Ski Valley. Fast forward a few weeks and I cruise from Moab to Taos just an hour or so ahead of a massive system crossing the West. Finally get to the ski valley and it's nuking. Met Al at Tim's immediately meeting my neighbors having whiskey and dinner. Next day shovel a bunch of snow and hop on sleds under the clear, blue NM sky. Get home to my shack and admire Kachina Peak out my window. Unreal first day.
I'm sure a few of you guys have met Al or maybe had friends living in his shacks. So thankful to cross paths with this guy and have a cool opportunity in the ski valley. My best friends / ski partners are the other two dudes that were also living in Al's shacks last year. Rock solid group of dudes.
Worked about 15 hours a week at Cottam's last season; just enough (or not really) for my pass. Found myself drinking a lot working there. Decided that wasn't healthy for me this year.
Tried to leave Taos, lasted 2 months back up in the PNW and I'm here to stay. Scored a casita along the Hondo and have at least 2 summers of building here on the property. Working at Ski Mastery so if you're around stop in and say hey.
Hills been skiing fucking fast lately with wicked winds and super cold temps. Been looking to where that sugar snow has been depositing with all this wind. It was 100% not in Meatball yesterday.
Hoping to get some more of this action this week.
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And for some reason this is what I love about south west skiing. It's hardy and you have to be patient but when it hits we are so grateful for the conditions and the terrain is absolutely awesome. this is even true here in flagstaff, sure our ski area isn't Taos but the touring on the Peaks is awesome but we sometimes wait for a few years for things to really shape up for high quality conditions in our back country. I guess it helps me develop a strong appreciation for good skiing once we have it and you learn to appreciate the not so good skiing too. I think there is a bond between these ski communities as well from all of this.Quote:
Originally Posted by ill-advised strategy
Oh yeah, the sunshine is pretty nice too.
Well, at least the cold temps will freeze the mud parking lots.
looks good for next two days
Crazy read from start to finish. My wife is actually part Pueblo and her dad's side are tribal members. But they left the reservation and New Mexico a number of years ago.
Taos and Northern New Mexico sounds eerily similar to Hawaii. The social dynamic, the pace of life, the unspoken rules and the way things are handled when law enforcement has to get involved. All of it bunched together in a little amazing place.
Stacking up out there. Wind was quite favorable in spots. Stoke is high.Quote:
Originally Posted by BFD
Today did not suck at all. More than made up for the last two of boilerplate and high winds. Came up with low expectations, I think the forecast was scattered showers, 1". At the top of lift 4 it seemed like 5 - 6", Hunziker bowl was a blast, and the woods were full of nice soft snow. Like this:
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And they're predicting 6 - 10" tonight (as I fly home .... )
NO that spells NO
Benny-Did it feel like Vermont to you (without good grooming). I was there the day before your post and the snow reminded me of Back East. Please expand on your Taos experience.Quote:
Rock hard and fucking cold today. Such a weird town.
Back east is blue ice and boilerplate. That stuff at least has an edge. The bumps are ridiculous, though. Way too big and hard.Quote:
Originally Posted by Notyourtocayo
Better be some more snow up there this morning, cause it's raining in town.
16" overnight and still snowing. Vicariously stoked!
wondering if any insight if everything will open or wait till tomorrow.
I'll tell you all about my experience at Taos. Last week of February, 2015. February 27, 2015 - deepest day of my life. 70 inch storm cycle. Drove down from Denver and stayed at the Abominable Snowman Hostel...such a cool place. Having been a recent east coast transplant, I had never been to Taos. Most ridiculous skiing I've ever experienced. First run, I was probably the second person of day down Al's Run. Smooth overhead blower, top to bottom. First run ever at Taos. The whole day was like that. There was an FWQ event there that day, which had been cancelled due to lack of visibility...fortnuately, I found some friendlycompetitors, and they said "hey, why don't you come ski the venue with us..they're not running the comp." Needless to say, we spent the day making insanely deep turns, interspersed with the occasional monster huck. Steep tree runs, you could barely keep your speed going it was so deep...timing your breathing in between turns deep. So, that was my first day ever at Taos.
Next day, the crowds showed up...it was still a ridiculously awesome day, but just did not compare to that Friday. I love Taos.
However, it is a might windy. In excess of 50 mph forecast for this afternoon.Quote:
Originally Posted by hoarhey
Only chair one, and that's a struggle. Mighty, mighty winds. Mananna should be awesome.Quote:
Originally Posted by BFD
Mañana doesn't mean tomorrow, it just means not today. Hope you get some.
Benny it was like that my last time there. First day only chair 1 open due to winds. Kept snowing that night and winds calmed.
Next day still snowing but West bowls opened with 2' fresh. Kept snowing that night. Third day was bluebird, east side now opened with 3' of fresh, single-digit, dry-as-a-nun's vagina pornographic blower. Some of the best skiing I've ever experienced.
It's magic when it's on.
thank's benny will try and be there. short old guy, blue pants yellow jacket, grey DPS 112'sQuote:
Originally Posted by Benny Profane
I'm in a ski week, nailed a solo with a very cool old dude who us entertaining me greatly with stories of Taos history.
Making breakfast and packing lunch. Stoked that 2 will open. Bombs all day yesterday. Should be a fun day on the hill. See y'all there.
Gray jacket, khaki pants, white helmet.