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Wednesday, 06 Feb 08
The first time I ever dropped a cliff on skis (at least a sizable one) I did a gnarly face plant and knocked the wind out of myself.
It was right in front of all these guys who had hit the cliff and stomped it clean. They were laughing so hard at me they could barely breathe! It's still on video and I watch it to keep me in good form. I would like to think that the cliff is now stomped. It's one of those weird things that can haunt you for a long time. Jumping and not landing is way better than not jumping at all.
This experience in my life goes back to a silly and random van that my older brother used to roam around in during his most rambunctious days of vagabond freedom. Mélanged in a sea of camouflaged and collaged photos of skiing and epic powder, there was a cut out from a Powder magazine that I will never be able to forget. It read: "There comes a time when one must risk everything or sit forever with one's dreams." I think I was in 9th grade the first time I read it (and the face plant heard round the world followed soon after), but I must have been well into high school upon hearing it for the first time. Trevor Petersen, one of the most dearly missed people by the skiing world today, wrote those words. Perhaps what he scribbled down in a moment of clarity truly is what inspires me to do anything I do. It is more likely, however, that he inched open a door that has been up to me to walk through.
To understand what it means to jump, one must obviously be well acquainted with the formalities of standing with both feet planted firmly on the ground. “Jump” is a great word, you know. It is all encompassing – a start to finish word as I like to call it – that implies both ascending and descending. Sometimes we are forced to jump, and we are coming down on the "mp" before we even knew there was a "ju." This seems to be the case for most of my life. I remember when I was 13 my parents (neither of them skiers) realized that my trips to the mountain every weekend were not passing phases. They quickly cutoff all monetary funding to what we all know to be an incredibly expensive sport. While a lot of other kids were on the race team and got that coveted early lift access, my first early lift access didn't come until I was 19 and gearing up for my first big-mountain competition. I was so stoked. I was whooping and hollering "Yee haw!" in all of the lift lines at Taos.
I have been lucky enough to see the marks of other jumpers before me, but I think I quickly realized in high school that if I was willing to make an effort, I could live my life like I ski – charging it! Although I couldn't be on the race team because it cost too much money, I still skied just as many days as any of the racers. I was lucky enough to be able to freeride instead of race gates. Not to say that I don't envy those beautiful arcing turns! Alas, mid-way through high school I found myself living with my stepmother in a suburb of Liverpool, England, and playing soccer for the rivaling Manchester United Girl's Under-18 team. I returned to the U.S. at Christmastime to find the Sangre de Cristos – "lleva de nieve" – and so it began. I jumped forward and started taking little airs here and there. My brother helped coach me along the way, and what I had already known to be my passion turned into my destiny.
I did my first backcountry skiing when I was 16 among crews of old (at least to me) experienced mountaineers who thought I was crazy for wanting to tag along. It always took me so long to get down the mountain! I was always getting stuck in tree wells and digging myself out of deep powder. I credit most of my skiing ability to the long periods of time I spent digging myself out of tree wells. And before long I was skiing with the best rippers in New Mexico – a secret pow stash just full of ripping skiers. I would look around in painstaking awareness to see another ponytail in sight and "nadas." The feeling of being the only woman among heaps of men told me that I was doing something right, but more chicas needed to get on the bandwagon. I applied for college and got accepted with almost a full ride from various sources to Lewis & Clark College.
Claire hucking the Cave at Jackson Hole Mountain Resort. Photo by Vanessa Pierce
I immediately got involved with the ski and snowboard club. I helped organize women ski events for ladies who want to get out there and don't know where to start. I finished a degree in Foreign Languages and Literatures at Lewis and Clark College. I am working on learning my fourth language so that I can be an asset to the world as a communicative device. I owe so much to my communication skills, especially those times I approached those old mountain dudes about skiing around with them.
So where has all this jumping gotten me to? My most farfetched jump – or rather the take off – happened this fall. I applied for and received a $3,000 grant to go to Senegal in West Africa in order to study a specific group of people called Griots. Griots are the lowest caste of the Senegalese society but they are also some of the most powerful people. Griots are fascinating to me because they use their language as a form of economy. By complimenting people in their society (by knowing their full family history), they are able to maintain a job just by talking because people are socially obligated to pay them for their service. Griots maintain a narrative of return for Senegalese people. I try to imagine how this sort of practice could manifest itself in our society.
On a different level, I really just want to accomplish something. I think every moment is just as long as you want it to be. So if you find yourself not succeeding just start over in another moment! Who knows where I get all these crazy ideas. I read a lot of Edward Abbey while I was growing up. His prose about the desert and how we relate to it as Americans inspires me to keep jumping. I consider it an honor to be an educated young woman with my head in the clouds. I know one thing: language is vital! What if the skiing community could learn to manipulate it like the Griots in Senegal? (There's a lot of money in our industry that is directed by people who don't see snow ever!) Let's use our voice for ourselves, even if we have to do it for their advertising as well.
The Jump continues as president of SheJumps.org. It is the sort of organization that was missing when I was growing up. Anytime I saw any woman's name mentioned in ski movies or advertisements, I always got really excited to see her gaining recognition in a generally male-driven sports world. Having a venue like SheJumps is an awesome and proactive way to get more women involved in jumping — in sports and/or in any venture.
CLICK HERE TO SEE CLAIRE'S BIGLINES.COM SCHOLARSHIP VIDEO
Profile: Claire Smallwood
Comment on this Post CLAIRE SMALLWOOD is on a mission to jump. We are lucky to have this bright young woman take the helm of SheJumps as it becomes a nonprofit. Read her story ...The first time I ever dropped a cliff on skis (at least a sizable one) I did a gnarly face plant and knocked the wind out of myself.
It was right in front of all these guys who had hit the cliff and stomped it clean. They were laughing so hard at me they could barely breathe! It's still on video and I watch it to keep me in good form. I would like to think that the cliff is now stomped. It's one of those weird things that can haunt you for a long time. Jumping and not landing is way better than not jumping at all.
This experience in my life goes back to a silly and random van that my older brother used to roam around in during his most rambunctious days of vagabond freedom. Mélanged in a sea of camouflaged and collaged photos of skiing and epic powder, there was a cut out from a Powder magazine that I will never be able to forget. It read: "There comes a time when one must risk everything or sit forever with one's dreams." I think I was in 9th grade the first time I read it (and the face plant heard round the world followed soon after), but I must have been well into high school upon hearing it for the first time. Trevor Petersen, one of the most dearly missed people by the skiing world today, wrote those words. Perhaps what he scribbled down in a moment of clarity truly is what inspires me to do anything I do. It is more likely, however, that he inched open a door that has been up to me to walk through.
To understand what it means to jump, one must obviously be well acquainted with the formalities of standing with both feet planted firmly on the ground. “Jump” is a great word, you know. It is all encompassing – a start to finish word as I like to call it – that implies both ascending and descending. Sometimes we are forced to jump, and we are coming down on the "mp" before we even knew there was a "ju." This seems to be the case for most of my life. I remember when I was 13 my parents (neither of them skiers) realized that my trips to the mountain every weekend were not passing phases. They quickly cutoff all monetary funding to what we all know to be an incredibly expensive sport. While a lot of other kids were on the race team and got that coveted early lift access, my first early lift access didn't come until I was 19 and gearing up for my first big-mountain competition. I was so stoked. I was whooping and hollering "Yee haw!" in all of the lift lines at Taos.
I have been lucky enough to see the marks of other jumpers before me, but I think I quickly realized in high school that if I was willing to make an effort, I could live my life like I ski – charging it! Although I couldn't be on the race team because it cost too much money, I still skied just as many days as any of the racers. I was lucky enough to be able to freeride instead of race gates. Not to say that I don't envy those beautiful arcing turns! Alas, mid-way through high school I found myself living with my stepmother in a suburb of Liverpool, England, and playing soccer for the rivaling Manchester United Girl's Under-18 team. I returned to the U.S. at Christmastime to find the Sangre de Cristos – "lleva de nieve" – and so it began. I jumped forward and started taking little airs here and there. My brother helped coach me along the way, and what I had already known to be my passion turned into my destiny.
I did my first backcountry skiing when I was 16 among crews of old (at least to me) experienced mountaineers who thought I was crazy for wanting to tag along. It always took me so long to get down the mountain! I was always getting stuck in tree wells and digging myself out of deep powder. I credit most of my skiing ability to the long periods of time I spent digging myself out of tree wells. And before long I was skiing with the best rippers in New Mexico – a secret pow stash just full of ripping skiers. I would look around in painstaking awareness to see another ponytail in sight and "nadas." The feeling of being the only woman among heaps of men told me that I was doing something right, but more chicas needed to get on the bandwagon. I applied for college and got accepted with almost a full ride from various sources to Lewis & Clark College.
Claire hucking the Cave at Jackson Hole Mountain Resort. Photo by Vanessa Pierce
I immediately got involved with the ski and snowboard club. I helped organize women ski events for ladies who want to get out there and don't know where to start. I finished a degree in Foreign Languages and Literatures at Lewis and Clark College. I am working on learning my fourth language so that I can be an asset to the world as a communicative device. I owe so much to my communication skills, especially those times I approached those old mountain dudes about skiing around with them.
So where has all this jumping gotten me to? My most farfetched jump – or rather the take off – happened this fall. I applied for and received a $3,000 grant to go to Senegal in West Africa in order to study a specific group of people called Griots. Griots are the lowest caste of the Senegalese society but they are also some of the most powerful people. Griots are fascinating to me because they use their language as a form of economy. By complimenting people in their society (by knowing their full family history), they are able to maintain a job just by talking because people are socially obligated to pay them for their service. Griots maintain a narrative of return for Senegalese people. I try to imagine how this sort of practice could manifest itself in our society.
On a different level, I really just want to accomplish something. I think every moment is just as long as you want it to be. So if you find yourself not succeeding just start over in another moment! Who knows where I get all these crazy ideas. I read a lot of Edward Abbey while I was growing up. His prose about the desert and how we relate to it as Americans inspires me to keep jumping. I consider it an honor to be an educated young woman with my head in the clouds. I know one thing: language is vital! What if the skiing community could learn to manipulate it like the Griots in Senegal? (There's a lot of money in our industry that is directed by people who don't see snow ever!) Let's use our voice for ourselves, even if we have to do it for their advertising as well.
The Jump continues as president of SheJumps.org. It is the sort of organization that was missing when I was growing up. Anytime I saw any woman's name mentioned in ski movies or advertisements, I always got really excited to see her gaining recognition in a generally male-driven sports world. Having a venue like SheJumps is an awesome and proactive way to get more women involved in jumping — in sports and/or in any venture.
CLICK HERE TO SEE CLAIRE'S BIGLINES.COM SCHOLARSHIP VIDEO
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