School days, Ski school that is View
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There were all kinds of events before I turned up at the ski school in Kirchdorf in Tirol. There were places I had seen and people that I had met. You know, the usual things tourists see and impressions they take. London, Frankfurt and St. Moritz should be names that almost anybody would like to bandy about. Heck I was no different. However, for the time being, this story will start in the small Austrian village of Kirchdorf in Tirol.
Kirchdorf lies about 4km as the crow flies from its larger sister-village of St. Johann in Tirol. In fact it is about 10 km from the famous global resort of Kitzbuhel. The latter, as the saying goes has it’s own story, one that needs the village and happenings within its borders to play a leading role. Kitzbuhel deserves to be the star of the show, the center of attraction. However St. Johann indeed is comfortable with a supporting role. .
The plan was to apply for a ski school job as a ski instructor in St. Johann.
So it was there that Peter T and I got bed and breakfast accommodation. Besides that the higher (than Kirchdorf) resort of St.Johann had snow, plus ski lifts were open. The same could not be said for Kirchdorf.
As a result Peter and I took separate rooms with Gerhardt and Crystall, who were typical Austrians as well as total Tiroleans; therefore they got a kick from our comings and goings. I think Gerhardt taught me my first German phrase; it was “laute pesufnae Priessen” which literally translated - if it was spelled right – to, “I’m surrounded by drunken Prussians”.
This endearment of course was directed at the Prussian group of skiers that stayed at Gerhardt and Crystal’s and came to enjoy skiing the early St. Johann snow. For some reason they howled with laughter every time I uttered it. And, as that was the only German phrase I could utter, it was repeated quite often.
Anyhoo the days were good. They were largely spent skiing and drinking with a group of ski teachers from Kirchdorf and another group that wanted to teach skiing at Kirchdorf. They all said I was great and should come over to the smaller village to try out as a ski teacher. Only problem was they were 90% Australian and 90% in their early 20s. I was 35 don’t forget.
The big attraction in Kirchdorf at this time was that was where Tyrolean Tours (TT) was based; and TT was aiming directly at the American and Canadian huge and big spending community of service folk. This consisted of military members, their families and support personnel living and working in Europe. There were at that time (1972) hundreds of thousands of folks that made up this community. What a market! What a business plan!
Screw speaking German, Kirchdorf’s star was shining brightly. After all, the main language of the market was English, right? It stood to reason that they would want English-speaking ski lessons. Right? Yeah. well, all will be revealed as the saying goes.
So I drove over to Kirchdorf in the cheap, old, VW I had bought in Frankfurt and presented myself to Sepp Bichler, then the head of the Kirchdorf/Erpfendorf ski school. Erpfendorf was 4km up the road form Kirchdorf and the two villages operated under one ski school banner.
”Are you an excellent skier?” Herr Bichler asked me in perfect English.
“Huh?” I answered. Hell he hadn’t asked for my Canadian ski teacher’s credentials, hadn’t commented on my advanced years and experience that went with them. What was the story here?
”Are you an excellent skier?” he repeated.
Ah but I was ready this time; “no, but I know I am good enough to know what an excellent skier is; plus I know how I can make a mediocre skier better or how to guide a beginner to the heights of mediocrity” I replied.
”OK” Herr Bichler said. “Come to the tryout tomorrow here in Kirchdorf”.
What I thought? Tryout! Kirchdorf! Tomorrow? But, but the lifts weren’t yet working and the snow was at best very patchy. Surely they would bus us elsewhere.
Uh Huh!
On Saturday morning (the next day) there were, literally, a hundred or so people trying out for 20 or so jobs as ski teachers in Kirchdorf. And if that wasn’t enough there was about 40 Austrian locals who did not have to try out for the ski school, (they were “in” based on the fact they were Austrian locals) but were there nonetheless. My thoughts were that they were there just for laughs and to check us out. Jeezus H. How were we to get up the hill anyway? The answer was soon apparent.
Walk.
With skis on and in the company of at least a hundred others we trudged, sideslipping and cursing up the hill. Who wrote the old rock n’ roll song “slippin and a slidin” Little Richard? Hell he was spot on.
We scaled the Kirchdorf heights (such as they were) not once mind, nor even twice or six times, but more. Ski to the bottom and show your best form over what amounted to fast grass followed by a trudge with skis on back to the starting point, about 700 meters higher.
Jeezus H I was near dead. Each time a couple more of the lucky were chosen; each time I was not one of them. Oh help! Even now the memory is exhausting. But it ended and even then I wasn’t one of the chosen ones. Oh well there was always St. Johann, and I could learn German.
”Tomorrow all, same time same place” came the voice of Karl Brunner Herr Bichler’s second in command. What? We were going through it all again tomorrow? I immediately threw my cigarette pack away and never, ever, had another cigarette.
However the next day was more of the same; same time, same station, same means of uphill transportation, and almost the same result.
The major difference, the big surprise was about to be unleashed.
It was noon on Sunday and Herr Bichler and Brunner got tired of the whole scene. They were three teachers short of a comfortable contingent. At least they thought they were. However they were as fed up or tired of the whole scene as we were. We were lined at the bottom of the Kirchdorf slope up waiting to be dismissed for lunch.
”You, you and you” came the majestic and powerful voice of Karl Brunner. He had chosen the first three in line and I was one of them. “Oh thank you, thank you” I said to myself. “The rest of you thanks and goodbye” retorted Brunner. It was over and I was in; this called for a celebration. Or was it?
We were informed that training in the Austrian technique of teaching skiing would begin the next day at 8:30AM on the Kirchdorf slopes. The fun was rally about to begin.
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