BARTER ECONOMY Ski tunes for heli bumps? That’s a currency worth its weight in white gold at Mike Wiegele Helicopter Skiing, BC. Photo: Grant Gunderson YODEL Words LILY KRASS “CAN YOU SWING a ski tune tonight?” I texted a buddy from the chairlift after thrashing my skis on a sharky run that probably shouldn’t have been open. My phone buzzed back instantly, “We’ve got a busy night, but do you know how to make cheesecake?” In a ski town, money talks. But so does a turkey club on sourdough with extra bacon, or a fresh strawberry galette with crisp browned edges and a dollop of creme fraiche. If you’re really in a pickle, a New York-style cheesecake usually does the trick. It all depends on who you talk to. Unless you’re siphoning money via a remote tech job or fat returns on your investment portfolio, making ends meet in a ski town takes a certain amount of scrappiness, a healthy dose of Peter Pan syndrome and a lot of cre-ativity. Baking skills are a major plus, especially if you have the tendency to push the limits of a thin snowpack early season. If you don’t have the cold, hard cash to get what you want, you’d better learn to barter. I’ve never met a shop tech who would turn down beer, but as rent, lift tickets and grocery prices keep skyrocketing, an al pastor burrito or a tray of brownies is stronger currency than a sixer of microbrews. “We’re so tired of beer,” one tech told me after sneak-ing me in for a ski mount. “Can we just have some food?” Money talks, but so do butter and sugar. Chocolate chip ba-nana bread for a ski tune, fudgy espresso brownies for a boot fit, cherry chocolate chip cookies for help shoveling the driveway, a homemade quiche for letting me crash on the couch. Like any ski bum living on a shoestring, I consider making it to the resort and back without a single monetary transaction a rousing success. And it doesn’t always have to be food; I’ve traded website copy for physical therapy, dog-sitting for an airport shuttle, tutoring for a buddy pass. Trading services is an act of survival in ski towns, but bartering is also about looking out for your own. However deep the powder is, the wealth inequality of ski towns still sits heavy on the shoul-ders of those who commit to staying and playing there. Most of us can’t throw cash around the way visitors do, so we do what we can to help each other out. This underground cashless society is our way of standing our ground. I’m still wearing Gore-Tex while I press the graham cracker crust into a springform pan, refreshing the weather forecast on my phone with one hand as I crack eggs into a stand mixer and scoop sugar, cream cheese and sour cream with the other. Fat flakes are falling outside my window, and my phone is buzzing with friends frothing over the promise of double-digit snowfall totals. An hour crafting a New York-style cheesecake while I let my boots dry is well worth a rush job for a fresh pair of skis by the time the lifts start spinning again. 028 The Ski Journal
The Ski Journal Volume 16, Issue 2: Page 28
