Corduroy Hour

I am on a ski trip with friends in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. We are celebrating a friend’s 60th birthday. The plan was originally Telluride, Colorado, but Mother Nature and labor negotiations had other ideas. Snow in Colorado has been scarce, and a ski patrol strike shut the mountain down entirely. On the very last day before our deposit became nonrefundable, we called an audible and shifted the trip to Jackson Hole.

As it turns out, that decision mattered.

Jackson Hole and Big Sky have been two of the better snow destinations in the western United States this season. There is snow here and the mountain is open, but there has been very little new snowfall during our week. I spent some time talking with locals and learned that the best snow of the day is early, very early, during what they call Corduroy Hour.

For non skiers, corduroy refers to the snow immediately after it has been groomed by the snow cats. Perfectly ribbed. Smooth. Fast. Forgiving. Hero snow.

So the next morning I made a QTR plan.

I got up early, suited up, caught the shuttle to Teton Village, and stopped at Cowboy Coffee for a latte and a breakfast burrito. I got in line at the Teewinot Chair with the old guy locals who show up every day for Corduroy Hour. Insider knowledge matters. Teewinot loads at 8:55 instead of 9:00 like the other lifts. It feeds into Apres Vous, where the runs are groomed in the morning rather than the night before.

I was rewarded with fast, fun turns and snow that begged you to carve. I lapped those runs for about 1.5 hours until the corduroy was gone and the rest of our group caught up.

The next day the entire group was up early. Big smiles everywhere. We all agreed that the best snow on the mountain happens early, and Corduroy Hour became the tradition of the week.

Which brings me to today.

Today I met Bill.

I do not know Bill’s last name. Bill was one of the guys at the front of the Teewinot line, there once again for Corduroy Hour. I happened to ride the chair with him and asked a few questions.

I asked what the Jackson Hole 100 patches on his helmet meant.

He told me they are awarded to skiers who ski 100 or more days in a season.

I asked how many patches he had.

10, he said. This year will be number 11. After that I need a new helmet. No more room.

I asked how many days he had skied so far this season.

Today is day 56.

I asked what counts as a ski day.

Only 1 run, he said, but it depends.

He told me about a big powder day when lift lines stretched endlessly. After hours of waiting, ski patrol shut the mountain down due to avalanche danger. They skied 1 run down and called it. It counted.

I told him that sounded like dedication.

He smiled and said he does not try to keep a streak anymore. Too much pressure. The last time he broke a streak was because he had to take his cats to the veterinarian to get their teeth cleaned. He decided streaks were not worth that kind of stress.

I asked how old he was.

82

Then he added that he has a friend who is 86 with 21 Jackson Hole 100 patches. That friend was on pace for another this year until his leg started hurting. His wife insisted he get it checked. Torn Achilles. No patch this year.

I asked how long Bill had been skiing.

He said he did not start until his 30s.

Then he mentioned Klaus Obermeyer. Klaus learned to ski at age 3 and skied at least through age 103. Possibly 104. Recently I learned that Klaus just celebrated his 106th birthday.

Later on the chairlift I shared Bill’s story with others. The guy next to me told a story about riding a gondola at Big Sky with an 86 year old woman who could not have weighed 80 pounds. She was buzzing with energy and excitement. She had just returned from Japan and said, “They have a lot of great powder there.”

I thought about my uncle Paul Wegeman, an Olympic ski jumper. He died at 88. At 87 he drove himself from Colorado Springs to Winter Park, skied 3 runs, had lunch, and drove himself home.

That was his last ski day.

Why does this matter to me?

Because these skiers are heroes.

They are 82, 86, 87, and well past 100. They are still doing the thing that brings them joy. They have organized their lives around what matters to them. They show up early. They know where the best snow is. They keep moving.

One of the questions I ask people often is simple.

What brings you joy?

And once I hear the answer, the follow up is even more important.

How can you shift your life so you get more of that?

That, to me, is Quality Time Remaining.

What brings you joy, and how can you add more of that joy to your life?