STORY no. 5
|Jon Farnham high and tight over the knoll in Salisbury CT|
It was 1970, my first visit to Harris Hill with skis. It was a training day (college guys were at a carnival). I was with my buddy Don Cantlin. We rode the landing hill three times and then got in line to go up top. One jump before lunch, wow! In the afternoon we got three jumps, the problem was, we ended up last in line. One of us was going to have to be up there all by ourselves. We couldn’t agree on who that was going to be. Night rider was not yet our thing. The guy ahead of us, had his boards on and was ready to go. He was an old dude. Red hair, big beard, maybe a hippy or a beatnik. We said ,” sir, would you mind waiting and going after us? We’re scared to be up here alone.” (Trust me, Cantlin was going to beat me up before he went last, good buddy uhh?) The response from Dr. West was “no problem boys”, and he moved aside. We survived and I got a friend for life.
|Greg back in the day|
Steamboat Springs Winter Sports Club
|Greg more recently, gelande’ing off Steamboat large hill|
I will never forget the coaching style of my second ski jumping coach. He would stand up in the tower, shivering, with a huge bulky ski jacket and a flask in the pocket. After every jump he would say “That sucked… get back up there and try it again”. This would be followed by a long pull on the ol flask. His coaching style was consistent, unwavering and never changed. At least that’s the way I remember it. That’s my story… and I’m stick’n to it.