Dan Bell – December 21st, 2021

DAN BELL
Steamboat Springs, CO
Lifelong skier and ski racing daydreamer
dan.smr@gmail.com
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I have always said that the only thing that held me back from notable ski racing performances was speed and endurance.  I was a very good daydreamer but that rarely translated into results.

In 1973 I concluded that I could not be a basketball player due to a profound loss of hand-eye coordination most likely the result of playing soccer.  I was a skier and planned to join the ski team at Summit County High School in Colorado.  The ski coaches were soccer coaches in the fall and they noticed that I did not seem to care that running could be painful if taken too far and I actually thought it was fun. 

When the snow began to fly I was approached by a coach with the physique of an MMA fighter, Coach Jim Matson.  He asked if I wanted to ski that weekend and of course, I said yes.  He offered to provide skis and a bus that would take us to the top of Vail Pass.  This all sounded fantastic.  The weekend came and as I approached the bus, I was handed an odd-looking pair of skis and boots.  Wooden Jarvinen skis of dissimilar lengths, a pair of Jette boots, and bamboo poles.  I assumed that cross country boots must be one size fits all since the boots had ample room for my feet as well as space for lunch or a wallet.  The smell of pine tar on the skis was new to me and I thought they would work well to lure and capture flies. Turns out they were also very good at collecting pine needles and anything else that got close to them.

I knew nothing of cross country skiing and was not too sure what I had gotten into.  The bus traveled up old Highway 6, (pre I-70) and dropped us off partway up Shrine Pass where the bus could not make it any further.  I believe the bus was driven by Gary Giberson, who for the next several years would be my coach and tormentor as well as coaching many Olympians and hundreds of other daydreamers. 

To say the learning curve was steep is an understatement.  We broke trail in the early season snow/bushes and rocks, eventually making a track.  About the time I felt I was getting the hang of it, Jim and Gary announced that we were skiing to Redcliff.  Even now, I believe that distance to have been in excess of 30 miles.  I was not one to doubt my coach, (until later on) so it must be a good idea. Snow-covered the road and it was downhill all the way.  On the descent, the snow coverage began to alternate between hard pack snowmobile ruts with frequent patches of dirt as we lost altitude. After a few miles of this, I pretty well had the pine tar and much of the wood worn off the skis. 

We arrived in Redcliff well after dark with a sense of being watched by the town’s inhabitants, lurking and peering from behind every old mine relic. The bus was a welcome sight, and Jim, (Mr. Matson) encouraged me to get on the bus quickly so we could get out of town before anyone began to wonder why this mining town had been invaded by a bunch of kids in knickers.  He also thanked me for sanding his skis.  I thought that was nice of him.

I continue to wander between the Nordic and Alpine skiing worlds.  Somehow, undeterred by this introduction to cross country skiing, I find myself enjoying it still today. I have since learned the difference between pain and fun. Being on the ski team was one of the great joys of my life.  Thanks to all the competitors, teammates, and coaches that were a part of this with me.