cross-country paradise

I am still walking with a bit of a limp, but the fact that I earned it through physical exertion makes it somewhat of a badge of honor. I spent the weekend in Ashotsk, a small town north of Gyumri, near Arpi Lake where I had participated in a camping trip this summer. Ashotsk is the home of two Armenian cross-country ski champions, who are trying to turn their home into a bed and breakfast/cross-country ski resort with the help of some Peace Corps volunteers. My role was to go spend the weekend there and see what I thought of it in terms of accommodations, pricing, etc. A weekend of cross-country skiing? With Olympians? Fine. Twist my arm into it.

Artur and Alla are the owners/teachers/coaches/skiers. Alla was the soviet union cross-country ski champion. They both participated in the Olympics as recently as Nagono. In addition to starting the B&B and giving ski lessons to foreigners, Artur coaches two youth cross-country ski teams in which his two sons participate.

From the minute I entered their home, they immediately stole my heart. Here was an Armenian family that was laughing and smiling and enjoying each others company. They sat on the floor (!) and watched sports together, the father played with the kids, and they interacted easily with the four Americans who just walked through their front door. Granted, they had already spent two years with a volunteer living across the street, and enjoyed a brief stint as a host family earlier this year, but I felt as if I had always known them after the two and half days I spent in their home. Beside the fact that these are well-traveled people, and that Alla is Russian, I couldn’t figure out what made them so different from the Armenian families I interact with everyday. Then it dawned on me. These people have passion. They are passionate about skiing and sports, and they are actively pursuing that passion every day. It shows in everything they do, from the way they interact as a family to the way they decorate their house, to the things they eat. What a difference having purpose in ones life can make.

The first evening we arrived late and spent our time hanging out and chatting. I had brought my laptop, as our weekend was going to be a joint ski retreat and Green Camp summit, and had pulled it out to check on something. Artur was sitting next to me and
was immediately attracted to the picture I had as my desktop background—snowshoeing with CORE in Utah. Before I knew it we had gone through hundreds of my pictures from CORE, IUOA and other outdoor excursions. He was not only interested, but he understood the things that I was showing him! I discussed ice-axe self arrest with him (in Armenian of course, with some Russian and English scattered about). I can’t do that with many Americans. When we finished looking at pictures of caving, mountaineering, winter camping, rock-climbing, snowshoeing, and paddling, he brought out a few of his photo albums. He and Alla showed me pictures from Russia and from Armenia, of places they had hiked, camped, skied and run (yes, they run…and they are the only Armenians I know who do). For that matter, they are the only Armenians I know who do any of these things, and it was so refreshing to see and to discuss and to make such a deep connection so quickly.

Alla began asking me how I trained in the US, and I did my best to explain in broken Armenian. Then I told her that I have gotten weak since coming to this country because it is so hard to exercise here. She told me to flex. I did and she felt my weak little bicep and then showed me up. On a number of occasions I felt like I needed to just start doing push-ups and begging mercy. I love that Armenians can make me feel like that instead of telling me that muscles are unsightly (not pretty) and that water will make you fat. She did tell us that we couldn’t drink water during or after meals (only before), but I don’t think it had anything to do with fatness. I am not sure what it did have to do with, other than the very weird perceptions of water in this country…but that is a different story.

The next morning we hit the slopes. Yes, I know we were cross-country skiing, but Ashotsk is big country, and it is certainly not flat. On more than one occasion I was definitely convinced that I was about to kill myself. Artur, impressed with all my outdoorsy pictures (none of which, by the way, had any skis in them) gave me the very skis that Alla had worn in the Nagono Olympics. I was impressed until I put them on my feet. After about the fifth time on my rear-end, I was frightened. That morning we worked on the very basics and then took off to a nearby mountain. The fundamentals were done on a ski course that Artur has set up for the teams he coaches. This included a loop, an up-hill section and then a very long down-hill. I am 100% positive that I have never gone that fast on cross-country skis. The journey to the mountain was nice, and after some pictures and goofing around, we headed back to the course. The last leg of the journey involved another steep hill, this time without a clean-run out and tracks to steer us in the right direction. We were told to make S-turns, like in downhill, a skill that I had not yet mastered on XC skis. Then we were told to snow-plow, another skill that was eluding me on the long, fast skis I was wearing. I ended up going painfully slowly side-stepping all the way down. That evening I switched to some slower skis.

The evening ski was a beautiful journey into the sunset, towards a river and a natural mineral water spring. We brought plastic cups and enjoyed the naturally carbonated water against the orange and purple backdrop. This trip also required a downhill portion, and being tired and sore from the morning’s festivities, I was still having trouble turning and stopping. Not to worry—Artur linked his arm under mine, we both lifted our poles off the ground, and he steered both of us down the hill. It was one of the most impressive feats I have seen in quite a while. This was the first time Alla had skied with us and she was enjoying skiing circles around us while mildly taunting us (we were enjoying it too). After all that, she beat us all home and managed to have dinner on the table by the time we walked through the door. Olympian. Must remember the operative word here. Olympian. Mother of two. Maybe I should do some more push-ups.

Meals were traditional Armenian salads, pasta, potatoes, soups, etc., but they were healthy, cooked with very little oil and well-balanced. Once again, a refreshing change. That night I nearly fell asleep in my soup. But the day wasn’t over. We still had hot showers (!) and time to socialize and watch more sports. I learned all about the ski and shoot biathlon. The next morning we woke early to a healthy breakfast and then hit the ski course, but only after the youth team had finished practicing at 10am (they started at 8—now there’s dedication). At that time they had finished skiing and were putting on tennis shoes to begin running. My heart went out to these kids and this family. I wanted to give them everything I have, and probably will give them a significant portion of my stuff when I leave.

I was pretty sore in the morning. I had trouble making it to the breakfast table, and I wasn’t sure if I would ski that day. At the last minute I decided to go out to the course and ski a little. If the rest of the group wanted to ski somewhere, I would go back to the house. I ended up staying out on the course with Morgan, Nick and Artur nearly three and a half hours. We spent the entire time working on technique. Artur would work one-on-one with us and then we would practice while he worked with the next person. I learned an amazing amount about cross-country skiing, including the fact that everything I had ever done was pretty much all wrong. Shows me. I will be returning in a few weeks before the snow melts, but after my body has mended, in a desperate attempt to not forget everything I have learned.

I know where I will be next winter.