Norge Ski Club — My Better Angle

Got you wondering, don't I? Here's how it happened. To the left of the main jump there was a second, smaller jump with a wooden stairway along the edge. I spotted a couple people on the stairs taking photos, so I wandered over that way. There were no barriers and no signs. I walked right past a guy who was watering the main slope between rounds. He looked right at me and said nothing. So I started climbing.

The stairs ended about halfway up the slope below the big jump. From there I took this photo back down the hill. You can see how large the crowd was, and you can also see the plastic carpeting on the hill.

A couple other people came up the stairs behind me. They and the first two people started climbing higher along a narrow dirt path that ran along the smaller jump. There were still no signs or barriers and nobody seemed to be paying any attention, so I started climbing again too. When I got to the top of the hill, I saw that the others had actually climbed a ramp that reached right to the base of the jump itself. I followed. We were right at the point where the jumpers launched into the air! I think this is the 10-year-old kid.

OK, at this point I have to admit that I knew I wasn't supposed to be there. But nobody seemed to care! Two photographers were on the other side of the jump, but if their equipment was any indication, they had some official reason for being there. Here's a shot I took looking up the jump. The skiers were given a ride in a van to the base of the ramp I had climbed up, then had to hike up stairs to get to the very top.

When the round ended, the others headed back down the hill. I decided to stick around for a while. Six or eight minutes later, when they would have been hiking down the stairway, I heard the guy in the booth way down below make an announcement. "Would those of you on the stairway please head down. I know it's a great place to get photos, but our insurance doesn't cover you up there so you need to come back."

Now what? As I thought about it, I realized I had three choices.

  1. I could head back down the hill, but I would have gotten to the stairs well after everybody else had gotten off and I would have been pretty obvious to the entire crowd.
  2. I could skulk off down the back of the hill and out a gate, or
  3. I could brazen it out and stay where I was for the final round and then skulk off down the back of the hill and out the gate.

I chose option three. After all, the announcer hadn't said I couldn't be on top of the hill — he'd just said I couldn't be on the stairs leading to the top of the hill.

I had about a half hour wait until the skiers were brought back up the hill and the final round began. I took this panorama looking out over the valley with the crowd way down below and the Fox River on the right. You can click twice on the image to make it a lot larger.

Here's the view in the other direction.

Imagine being 10 and launching yourself off of that … While waiting for the next round, I sat on a cement wall under the jump. The skiers, when they climbed up, walked right past me as did several of their coaches. A guy drove by in a truck belonging to the ski club. He looked at me, but he didn't say anything. Finally the round started. Unfortunately, my camera (or perhaps it's me) isn't up to shooting action shots in low light, so they came out grainy and blurry, but you can get a sense of what I was seeing.

The longest jumps were about 72 meters. I don't know how that compares to winter or Olympic competition.

When the last skier had jumped, I did, in fact, skulk down the back of the hill and out the gate. I had about a half mile walk to the front gate where I took one last photo, then headed for home, still not entirely believing where I'd gone. It's amazing what you can get away with if you carry a camera and look like you belong.

If anyone wants to go the the winter competition with me, let me know. But I think I'll probably stay at the bottom of the hill.

This entry was posted in Performances. Bookmark the permalink.