An old Rock-n-Roll anthem for a new ski season
Captured on a cell phone camera, a snowboarder swoops down a wide open slope at Copper Mountain on opening day. PHOTO BY BOB BERWYN. Click on the image to see more opening day scenes from Summit County, Colorado.
I want to tell you about an old song by Austrian singer and songwriter Wofgang Ambros called Schifoan. Translated, the song title simply means skiing. But the lyrics to this three-minute ditty capture so much of the feeling of a good ski day that it became a sing-along anthem in the ski-crazy Alpine nation, not to mention a karaoke favorite.
In the first verse, Ambros describes the joy of strapping his boards to the car roof on a Friday afternoon, the giddy anticipation of seeing snow-covered mountains on the horizon, and his determination to catch first chair in the morning.
The crux of the song is in the rousing chorus. Since Ambros sings in Austrian dialect, it’s not easy to translate. There are even a few words that just don’t have an English counterpart. But the gist of it is easy enough for any avid skier or snowboarder to understand. When you’re standing at the top of the hill with the sun shining on a spray of snow, you’ve got the whole world in your hands.
The lyrics and melody capture the all-suffusing glow of a good powder day. It’s a pity we don’t have an American equivalent for this song — maybe someday.
I first heard the tune shortly after it was released in 1976, playing it over and over on a scratchy portable record player while living my first ski bum season after two years of college. I worked in a U.S. Army hotel in Garmisch, Germany, vacuuming hallways and lobbies, emptying ashtrays and setting up the dining room for breakfast in the pre-dawn hours. I’d return for an evening pearl diving session in the restaurant kitchen, sunburned, tired and happy. It was somewhat grueling and mindless, but man, did I ski. Every day. All day, and sometimes even at night when my schedule allowed. I went back to the city and back to school after that season, but I left my heart in the mountains, knowing I’d be back to reclaim it.
And the song? With every word and inflection etched into my brain for life it became a personal ski anthem, so it’s not surprising that I listened to it once again recently, driving up along the Snake River to Arapahoe Basin to make some of the first turns of the season. I rolled the car windows all the way down and cranked the stereo as loud as I could, never mind those blown-out speakers. I sang along at the top of my lungs: Schiiii-foan!
I have less hair than I did back then, a lot less, but the cool wind blowing down the valley and around my ears felt as good as it always has. I have more money these days, but only a little more. I’m smarter, but only a bit. I have a better job, I guess — at least my mom thinks so. And while I don’t ski every single day, I still manage to get my ya-yas out.
I’m a ski bum at heart. Always have been and I have the stack of season passes, along with the memories, to prove it. I’ve gathered them up, from Garmisch, Lermoos, Taos, Mammoth, Purgatory, Wolf Creek and, most recently, from the cluster of resorts in Summit County, Colorado, where I’m making my stand. Where I’ve settled down to a “respectable” profession. Where I’m raising a son. Where I lost love and found it again, gleaming brighter than ever. Where I’ve made and lost good friends. Where I’ve broken bones, triggered avalanches and downed a few pints and then some. Where I’ve suffered through droughts, and where I’ve skied powder up to my eyeballs.
All this and more warbled through my 50-year-old brain as I veered into the A-Basin parking lot to begin my 47th year on the slopes. As if that thought wasn’t scary enough, I actually had everything with me I needed: Gloves, jacket, hat, poles, pass, boots … so no excuses. I even brought my iPod so that I could play my ski song on the way up and back down the mountain.
I think it was the iPod that made me realize how times have changed. Or maybe it was the sticker shock when I hit the cafeteria for a final jolt of caffeine: $2.91 for a cup of lukewarm, watery brown liquid that reminded me of dirty dishwater. That was probably about the price of a daily ticket when A-Basin first opened.
“Oh, but you get a refill,” said the cashier, as if that was going to soothe my ruffled feathers.
“And what am I supposed to do with the paper cup while I’m skiing,” I thought, vowing it would be the only cup of coffee I buy at the area this winter.
So I walk out into the bright sunlight, rub a bit of wax on the bases of my boards, latch up my bindings and skate toward the lift, raising a pole to greet my friend. His smile says it all.
Times and technologies have changed, but the essence of what we do on snow-covered mountains has not. For a short time, we’re free. Free to dance, glide and swoop, to carve, dip and soar. It’s pure play, harmony of man and nature.
Even after 48 seasons, the first day is thrilling as it ever was, and the joy rises inside, filling me until I know that I am right where I’m supposed to be, at home, in the mountains.
The last verse of the song finds Ambros once again putting his skis on the roof of his car, this time with a heavy heart, knowing he’s headed back toward the flatlands. But he sneaks a last glance up at the snowy peaks, suddenly gives in to his feelings, and decides to extend his weekend.
“What the heck,” he sings in his droll accent. “I’ll stay Monday, too.”
I know the feeling. I gave in to it a quarter century ago, when I decided to move to the mountains permanently and build a life that includes daily devotion to the majestic peaks and glacier-carved valleys, the forests and streams, with never a regret. In fact, I find strengthening affirmation in my decision each time I stand atop a snow-covered peak, and in each genuflection on my way downhill.
“Get a grip. It’s only skiing,” I try to tell myself, shaking my head and grinning inside.
But my soul knows better. Laughing, it calls me on for one more run, just one more.
To hear a short sing-along clip of Schifoan, check out this YouTube link. it’s also available on iTunes. Just search the store for Schifoan. Meanwhile, tell the me about your own favorite ski tunes by clicking on the comment link below. And think snow!
