In Fact, Chornomortsi Are Far Better Skiers and Sportsmen Than They Are

Sailing Amidst the Snowy Silhouettes of Karpattia DeKosta, ЧМ (I/2009) “Life is not measured by the number of breaths that one takes, but by the moments that take one’s breath away” A long single file of 20 skiers, stretching out over nearly 300 meters, glided effortlessly down the broad slopes of Hunter Mountain. Here, in the Catskill Mountains of New York State, our parents recreated a „Hutsul‟ enclave and lifestyle just 150 km north of New York City. For over 50 years these have been our Carpathian Mountains. An achingly brilliant January sun cast crystalline-like beams of solar rays through an azure blue sky that illuminated our mountains. Outlined, were the distant silhouettes of even higher mountains, that were in sharp contrast with the dazzling whiteness of a soft, powdery snow that had fallen the night before. This was not Hunter‟s typical man- made snow, but heaven‟s powder, covering the evergreens above, and muffling the schussing sounds of 20 pairs of skis - snow catamarans cutting through the fluffy, foamy powder. It was a perfect day of azure blue and snowy white – for this was how skiing was meant to be - we were literally sailing through snow, for once following the exact trace of Erko‟s gracefully sinuous slalom. This was as close as we would ever get to the perfection of a rhythmic ballet on skis amidst the poetry of nature‟s artistic landscape. It was an uplifting sight - twenty „Chornomortsi‟, who normally have difficulty simply marching in step, were sailing down the hill in graceful unison, with the „prows‟ of their skis plowing through the powder, splashing waves of snow in their wake with each sinuous turn. It was a regatta of human catamarans, with colorful ski hats and multi-colored ski suits, resembling sails flapping in the wind. They were floating, weaving and bobbing like an undulating sea serpent winding its way through the gleaming sea of snow. It was one of those rare unplanned moments that will never be recreated in our lifetime. It was still a time in our lives when all who attended our annual Chornomorskiy Racing Clinic (CRC) during football‟s Super Bowl weekend, actually 1 looked forward to sailing the snows of Hunter Mountain. In that magical moment, my imagination carried me back to a distant past, dreaming that we were skiing the trails of our parents‟ beloved Carpathian mountains. Since none of us had ever skied in Carpathia, we could only imagine, on that mystical day in January, 1988, the Millennial year of Ukraine‟s Christianity, that this was how it might have been when Roman Shukhevych, with his KLK (Carpathian Ski Club) colleagues and Chornomorskiy compatriots sailed the snowy silhouettes of Karpattia nearly 60 years earlier. If you think about it, skiing is simply a variant of individual sailing – a combination of wind-surfing and surf-boarding – each is not much different than schussing through snow – snow merely being one of several states of liquid water. It‟s an irony, though, that we American „Chornomortsi‟ are far better skiers and sportsmen than we are sailors. It has been a perplexing enigma for me as to why men, who are seemingly attracted to the romance of the sea and sailing, spend so much of their spare time sailing on snow? One „Chornomorets‟ suggested that it might be because no one ever gets seasick on the slopes. Though, it must be said that „après- ski‟ more than compensates for the apparent absence of seasickness by inducing comparable symptoms, which are merely delayed by a day. It is a well-known fact that the common denominators of sailing and skiing are song, salo and liquids (water, snow, ice, fog, rain, vapor, spirits). There‟s something exceptional about skiing and winter sports - even in the sports world – which accounts for their own unique winter Olympics every four years. It shares many of the attributes of sailing – a fondness for nature‟s open spaces, danger and the unknown. It is inherently about harnessing nature‟s quirky and unpredictable elements for one‟s individual pleasure. In the case of sailing, the elements of excitement are offered by storms, wind, waves, currents and water. At its core, skiing is characterized by steep slopes, treacherous ice and excess speed. Both sailing and skiing can be dangerous, and that inherent risk attracts a unique type of individual. The characteristics of these adventurous men who choose to challenge nature‟s dangerously exciting delights are similar, as well – a certain flair, swagger, joy, daring and recklessness. From what I‟ve read of the early „Chornomortsi‟ of the 1920‟s and 1930‟s, these are the attributes that defined them – it had to be so, because those characteristics were the essence of brave men and leaders. 2 This is probably why skiing captivated Roman Shukhevych, and two generations later, defined ‘Erko’ (Severin Palydovycz). In turn, „Erko‟ redefined a skiing „culture‟ for the modern generation of „Chornomortsi‟ in America. He introduced us to the exceptionally smooth styles of the legendary Olympic champions Stein Erikson and Jean Claude Killy. We were awed by his daring feats - jumping off cliffs on an impulse, while shamelessly and daringly flaunting his exceptional skills, „hot-dogging‟ and „show-boating‟ his way down impossibly steep and narrow rock-littered trails, challenging us to follow. His character was a rare combination of flair, elegance and bravado – Fred Astaire and Rambo. Oddly enough, though, Epko doesn‟t like to race, and rarely competes, unless directly challenged „mano a mano‟. Yet, he is extremely competitive – he simply needed a great and unique „shallange‟ to motivate him to race – though losing was never an option. You don‟t create champions – they are born, and it helps to have the soul of Karpattia embedded in one‟s being. Our Chornomorskiy „ski culture‟ evolved in a rather unique manner, during the thirty plus years that we‟ve been gathering at Hunter. Skiers inherently seek danger, thrills and challenges, but that‟s why they cherish the après-ski even more. After a hard, cold day of fighting the elements outdoors, and surviving risky maneuvers and unanticipated surprises that always accompany zooming down an expert slope, there is nothing better than the easy, relaxed atmosphere of sitting in front of a log fire at „Portyk‟s‟ (Orest Fedash) chalet, sipping hot rum ciders. This unwinding was just a small part of a daily marathon après-ski period, usually beginning at 3:00 pm in the Hunter ski lodge, progressing to Portyk‟s house for schnapps and showers, and then migrating to Erko‟s chalet, and finishing off for a night of poker and singing back at „Portyk‟s till 3:00 am. Each day, the routine started all over again at 6:00am sharp, with a wake-up phone call from „Hetman Erko‟, with a „lineup‟ at Hunter Mountain at 9:00am. It was repeated for several days until exhaustion overwhelmed us - ending, mercifully, on Sunday night – at the grand finale – the Super Bowl football game at Carmine‟s (Lemme) chalet. Every morning we‟d scurry to organize ourselves and make the 9:00 am „lineup‟ at either Hunter or Windham lodge, because that‟s where our „Hetman‟ awaited his „kozak cohort‟. It‟s a perpetual struggle to get everyone out on time – all you need is one or two ‘pravoslavni’, and everything slows down to a snail‟s pace. I wonder if „Bayda‟ Vyshnevetskiy or Petro Sahaijdachney had similar problems in their day. It could 3 explain Mazeppa‟s defeat at Poltava- after all, didn‟t he have problems collecting his troops and arriving at Poltava on time for the battle? There may be some correlation in the fact that our most successful Hetman was a „katolyk‟ – Bohdan Khmel‟nytski. But, I digress. Though just about everything annoys „Erko‟, his major source of aggravation is tardiness, - especially having our ski group dribble in slowly while he‟s ready to „hit the slopes‟. On this particular day, about fifteen years ago, he was fuming because even „Zen‟, his erstwhile „bunchuzhney‟ was late, and the rest of the gang was still straggling in over the next half an hour. Erko was livid and was cursing those few of us who had arrived and were putting on their boots as quickly and quietly as possible. “You guys are driving me crazy, and one day, I‟m going to go beserk”, „Erko‟ proclaimed loudly. “I‟m not going to wait for you guys any more – you‟re on your own – you‟ll have to stand in line at the chair lift with all the other skiers”. There was an uncomfortable pause, and „Zen‟ looked up from his boot buckles and asked innocently – “Erko, how would we know the difference - the moment when you actually went beserk?” The rest of the gang was quietly shocked at „Zen‟s‟ boldness in answering back to his „Hetman‟. „Erko‟ shot „Zen‟ a dirty look, reflected momentarily and roared with laughter – the realization hit him that, indeed, it would be difficult for any of his friends to detect any subtle differences in his demeanor between his „normal‟ state and a more frenzied one. The tension was lifted, and we all merrily went skiing. To this day, Erko recalls that moment fondly. In our 30+ years of skiing together as a Chornomorskiy group, ‘Erko’ redefined the traditional, laid-back concept of „après- ski‟ for us to more closely match his personality. The center of this transformation took place in his ski chalet-basement, which serves as a combined ski museum, cigar bar, pub and cabaret.

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