Behind every great ski resort is more than fresh powder and cozy hotel rooms E there's a great ski patrol. When all is said and done, it is the "WSP," or the Wintergreen Ski Patrol, that ensures skiers get off the mountain safely.
Originally begun in 1975 with only a handful of members, the patrol has burgeoned into a small force. Since the organization is non-profit, it only employs 35 people. Its true strength comes from the 120 volunteers that make up the vast majority of the team. Drawing from all walks of life, the versatile volunteer force consists of a fire chief, judges and students, amongst many other professions.
Amongst these various volunteers, there is one recurring theme: the love to ski. Taking their love and juicing it up with emergency medical training, the paid and volunteer staff has created an organization so strong that it won Best National Ski Patrol in 1989 and recently was runner up in 1997. While these awards speak strongly when standing alone, they're even more impressive considering WSP is competing against mega-resorts across the nation, including Jackson Whole, Steamboat and Deer Valley, to name a few.
The Squad
The accomplishments of the program can be traced directly back to training and effort. Ryan Morgan, a third-year College student, is one of the youngest people on the squad at the age of 20. Morgan is a pre-med student and trained as an emergency medical technician with the Charlottesville-Albemarle Rescue Squad. Despite his medical training, however, he still had to attend Ski Patrol classes preparing him to perform procedure on the mountain.
Even after months of training, lasting eight hours every weekend from mid-September to the end of November, Morgan still only ranks as an auxiliary ski patrol member. At the bottom tier of rank, Morgan can graduate to the level of basic once he masters the use of the rescue sled.
For those without prior medical experience, learning to use the sled properly can take a minimum of two months of ski training, assuming the trainee already is an advanced skier. For someone of less skill, it could take up to two years before the trainee is allowed to use the sled in a live rescue.
According to Trish Zook-Cuthbert, Morgan's skiing skills are solid, so after the past couple months of training he should pass the test within a few weeks. At this pace, he is ahead of the curve.
"My girlfriend doesn't like all the time it takes, but I think it's worth it for the awesome people I've met and the few I've helped," Morgan said.
A fellow ski patroller, Brad Spano, University Class of 1991, was once in a position similar to Morgan's as a fledgling ski patrol member, vying for more responsibility. Now, though, he is a senior patrol member, seeking graduation into the certified class. Once he gains this rank he will be one of an elite group of 442 certified ski patrollers in the nation. Of this group, WSP employs eight.
Spano started working at Wintergreen at 19, at which point he only taught ski lessons. Once in college, he began to work for the Ski Patrol team. He took a brief hiatus during his graduate school years, only to move back to Staunton and spend many of his weeknights after finishing at his dental practice volunteering for the patrol.
Despite his obvious dedication to skiers' health and love of Wintergreen, he jokes that originally he, "totally did it for the free meal. It was the only good meal I got."
The Responsibilities
The main responsibilities of a ski patroller rest in the day-to-day routine of getting the mountain ready in the morning, combing the slopes for injuries, and closing the mountain down at night. To open a mountain, usually between eight and nine o'clock in the morning, the team sweeps the three different areas of Wintergreen, usually with at least two skiers per side. Their first job is to place "caution" and "slow" signs around lift areas and where slopes merge. After replacing those, the patrol must survey the mountain looking for bare spots, where they stick bamboo, casually referred to by the team as just "boo," warning skiers of potential hazards. Then they must survey the lift, checking that all gears and belts are in their proper place. This requires the patrol to have some mechanical knowledge on top of the medical.
During the day, some members of the patrol remain on top of the mountain in a small shack consisting of a radio, a phone, a mass of half-finished crossword puzzles, a heater and the mandatory coffee maker. Others will ski, looking for injury or anyone that might be in need of assistance.
After a day's worth of labor, it is the night shift's responsibility to close the mountain. To begin, they rope off the slopes that do not lead back to the resort. Despite this barricade, one patrol member must remain on top of the mountain to ensure no rebel rousers choose to ignore the rope. The rest of the squad picks up the signs and the "boo." They then make one more run, skiing along the edges of the slopes, occasionally shouting, and always intently observing, looking for any lost, wayward skier in need of help. On the way down, there is one roped-off slope, not lit and thus not open for night skiing, that is not searched. If some rebellious skier or snowboarder seeks the adventure of the darkened slope, the patrol is more than glad to let them have it for the entire night. The lifts are shut down and checked, and then the ski patrol skis home.
The Rescue
While weekdays are often the quietest for the ski patrol, they are busiest for the ski team, which uses the Wintergreen slopes for practice. While usually these practices run flawlessly, challenging sports necessarily entail some risk. And with every risk comes more chance of injury. One of these injuries happened recently to fourth-year College student Lisa DeGorter. A member of the ski team since first year, DeGorter was practicing with a time trial when she hit a pile of powder, lost control and wrecked. Having badly hurt her knee, she was unable to get up.
After what she described as "a seemingly very long time," a ski patrolman with sled in tow arrived. After bracing her knee, he placed her into the sled. DeGorter stressed the level of attention. "He was very concerned that I was comfortable," she said.
She said she also was impressed with the man's tone, as he lightened the mood with some mild flirting.
However, DeGorter jokingly referred to some concern when the man admitted he was just kidding. "He played with my heart," she said.
After returning DeGorter to the Ski Patrol headquarters and placing her in one of the beds, her knee was immobilized and she was released with instructions to go to the hospital if her knee should not improve soon.After delivering her to medical staff, the patrolman returned to the slopes, ready to continue the day's efforts.
As Morgan and Spano ski down the slope with good balance, tight skis and a graceful rhythm of turns, wearing the sharp red jacket with the emblazoned white cross of the ski patrol, eyes turn and gaze. The other skiers, with awkward stances and wedged skis, survey the two with respect. They say nothing, but their look conveys a certain sentiment. They have glimpsed a hint of the responsibility and duty that rests on the shoulders of ski patrol. A calm remains, even after the ski patrollers have left; the civilian skiers feel safer for their presence.