Carl Roth and I just returned from the December 13-14 CMSC opener at Ski Brule, near Iron River, Michigan. We encountered many old friends throughout the weekend, most of whom were naturally surprised to see Carl. A typical exchange would start with a "Glad you are back, Carl. So who all is racing from Champaign this year?"

"You are looking at both of them."

"Get out! You used to have... like 27 people out here... and they all used to come up in Garner's van."

"Yep, they've all hung it up or moved out. We heard the van just about died a few years back but found a second life hauling migrants to harvest hot spots. It still holds about 27. We'll try to recruit some new blood to the team."

"What ever happened to that short guy? Or the one with the funny hair whose daughters skied better than he did?"

It's sad, but true. The Champaign Ski Club racing empire once numbered legions and stretched from Mahomet to Danville, and from Rantucky to Hindsboro. It has since shrunk to a 3 block swath of northeast St. Joseph.

The weekend's skiing kicked off with training on a cold, but sunny and calm Friday morning. Our usual coach, Wendy Maas of the Great Lakes Ski Academy couldn't make it. The substitute was a skilled racer in his own right, but I liked Wendy's coaching style a lot better. She always whips us into shape with good drills to get the ski muscles working again, resets the training courses frequently, and leaves the courses up all afternoon. She jumps like a pit bull without lipstick onto anyone caught slacking, but serves up ready complements to boost the confidence as well.

Carl and I both ran Friday's NASTAR race. The pacesetting was really tough and we both underachieved on our handicaps. The pacesetter, Ericka Richards - who also happened to be my daughter Faith's first ski teacher in April 2005 - hasn't posted many NASTAR finishes in the last several years, so she used a handicap from a single race last season. I'm thinking she is skiing a bit better than the number reveals...

We took a short mid-afternoon break after NASTAR only to find the first slalom training course removed. It was starting to become quite rutted, so just as well. We heard from some other racers that a new course had been set on the next run over, so we took a chairlift to check it out, just in time to find coach pulling the gates and calling it a day (at 3 pm!) A couple of racers just had to wax on about how great the second course was. Thanks, guys. We didn't exactly get our money's worth for training, but it was partly our own fault.

Time to move on. We relaxed in the hot tub, went into town for some Italian, then caught up with more old friends in the bar. As usual, Team Wild Bunch was pounding Jagermeister, beer, and whatever else they could get their hands on. Carl and I, impersonating a couple cheap, old, fuddy-duddies from some sleepy downstate hick town, put away a couple dollar beers and called it an early night.

The next morning, the temperatures warmed and clouds rolled in. The skies were not yet storming, but Carl was. Without missing a beat, he won Saturday's giant slalom (GS) race, taking gold in the Vet B class in which he last competed almost 7 years ago. This sends the wrong message to my wife, Jennifer - that there is no harm in sitting out a season or six. Thanks, Carl. Meanwhile, I got clobbered by many of the same fools who stumbled home from the bar the night before. I did record my GS races and several warm-up runs on GPS though.

Carl receiving his prize... and a medal too!

Saturday night was Ski Brule's world famous BBQ at the old wooden Homestead Lodge, settled in 1891 when a young, strapping Denny Coleman was making his first turns on 392 cm wooden skis. The night was missing a little of the traditional ambiance as we boarded a sleigh pulled by... a diesel-powered snowcat? Not quite as charming as the usual horses, but it's not like Carl and I were snuggling or anything. Really. As we made our way upstairs, we were greeted by the staff doing the hokey pokey accompanied by live guitar. We later returned to the bar, surprised to find that some of the Ski Brule staff from the BBQ had magically arrived before us, ready to party. Either they teleported or used the secret tunnel that runs under the "mountain." Several entertained us with a torchlight parade down the hill.

Sunday morning brought continued high temperatures and warm, sticky snow for the slalom race. The courses held up remarkably well both days, however. Carl struggled a little on his long GS boards and skied more tense than his normal relaxed, smooth-carvin' style. Like the day before, I made big tactical mistakes on my first run. I did about as well as I could have hoped on the tricky headwall section, but a lapse of concentration on the easy flat at the top of the course caused me to loose pressure on my downhill ski and scrub speed at the worst possible time. I cleaned it up a bit on the second run to salvage some self-respect, but we both finished near the bottom of our classes, with Carl taking 4th and me 5th. It was a good start nonetheless, considering both of us were on skis for the first time this season.

The snowy weather that started the day had changed to a sloppy drizzle by the time we finished our race runs. The first couple hours of the drive home were on slushy roads, but we managed to stay ahead of the approaching cold front that would later turn the upper midwest into an ice box.

Carl and I are probably the last two software industry nerds that don't own automobile GPS navigation. Here is what transpired on the return trip as we approached Cherry Valley, just past Rockford. Interstates 39 and 90 share the same roadway between Portage, Wisconsin and this neighborhood. One must exit here to proceed southward on I-39 toward Bloomington. Otherwise, I-90 funnels traffic into Chicago and points east.

Carl: We came through here last season after my friend and I took our kids to Cascade for a day and drove right past the I-39 exit. After a while we saw some signs for Elgin and Schaumburg, so we just carried on until 355 and came back that way.

Scott: Wow, that was really stupid. Maybe one of these days we'll have to get GPS navigation. I've tried them before but just don't like them that much. They are too distracting. I'd rather just pay attention to the road. Hey, was that where we were supposed to turn to catch I-39?

Carl: Yep.

Scott: Hmmm. I guess I'll turn around at the next exit. In about 10 miles or so. That temporary construction exit was really messed up.

Carl: Yeah, the GPS probably would have gotten it wrong.

We returned safely on Sunday night nonetheless and will be ready to race again before long. We could always use company. Please consider joining us! Otherwise we might start snuggling on sleigh rides. We'll even take skiers from outside Spartan Country who don't think they can race. Everyone can race!

The next stop for me is Mt. La Crosse on January 10-11 for the Midwest Masters race. There will also be CMSC races at Wilmot that weekend and the New Year's weekend prior. Wilmot is a pile of rubble just northwest of Chicagoland that desperate people sometime ski on - when it has snow. Check our racing calendar for all of the details. The next big CMSC weekend is Marquette on January 30 - February 1. Don't miss it!

Ski fast!