The Ski Journal • Volume 17, Issue 2 • STREET SKI DAYCARE

Kale Cimperman enjoying an afternoon of Canadian concrete in Toronto. Photo: Will Wesson

The Super 8 Motel in North Syracuse, NY, is proving to be a very bad choice. Paper-thin walls and noisy nocturnal neighbors seem to be the norm. We assumed that a particularly vocal pair of lovers next door would tire themselves out eventually, but we were wrong. One of them even yelled, “Sorry not sorry to the people in the next room” and started laughing. It didn’t exactly get me excited to wake up before sunrise and ski off the roof of a dentist’s office.

Skiing in urban landscapes is only about two decades old, and by growing up an hour outside Syracuse, NY, a place closer to good street spots than good mountains, my friends and I inadvertently found ourselves at the forefront of it in the early 2000s. Since then, our crew has attracted skiers from other nontraditional locales as well. Some of the friends who shared our one-star Super 8 room had similar stories from Madison, WI, and Pittsburgh and beyond.

Street skiing can be unforgiving on an aging body. Through the years, I’ve aimed for a balance of danger, creativity and technicality. Knowing what’s cool is easy, but knowing when it’s not worth the risk is more important. There are many paths to the hospital, some just take longer than others. Twenty-two years after sliding my first handrail (with skating-rink ice shavings in July), I’m still going to cities I skied as a teenager, with kids 15 years my junior. This age gap has led to inside jokes and even to the title of our most recent film: Daycare.

Last winter, it felt like I was running a babysitting service at times, but hanging out with younger riders refreshes my perspective on this sport. Sharing ups and downs with friends—no matter their age—is part of the game, and something you really learn while putting in those miles.

In Toronto, we stayed in a basement Airbnb hosted by first-generation Greek immigrants. We shoveled their driveway and they gave us cookies, chocolate and wine. In Poughkeepsie, NY, we met a high school janitor who moved to the United States from Jamaica. Rather than tell us to leave, he was curious and wanted to watch us ski. He even tried to offer our one friend with dreadlocks some weed. At this point, a wild night at the Super 8 feels pretty on par. I’ve come to accept each day on the road as a new adventure and, hey, maybe that’s what keeps me young after all.

The Ski Journal - Volume 17, Issue 2

STREET SKI DAYCARE

Issue List