I have small ears, freakishly small really. I mean they're not quite small enough that I receive disability checks from the government or anything, but it's close. Do they even do that? I'll just say this about the size of my ears: Plenty of 1- or 2-year-olds and maybe even a few newborns have ears at least as big, if not bigger, than mine. For some weird reason people rarely seem to notice how small they are, or at least they're polite enough not to mention it. I have a theory that people don't notice because I have no hair, but that doesn't really make sense since it seems to make my ears, or lack thereof, even more obvious. In any case, sometimes people do notice and are even forward enough to ask about my mini ears, and when that happens I have crafted what I believe to be an excellent explanation.
You see, I grew up skiing — a lot. In those coming-of-age years while I was skiing, I was listening to music something like 137% of the time. It's my belief that skiing and music go together like peanut butter and jelly, but more on that later. The thing is, back in the day we had a different kind of headphones. They didn't go in your ear like AirPods, and they didn't completely cover your ear like the Bose noise canceling version. They just kind of sat on top of your ear.
If you're, like me, slightly older than dirt, you will certainly remember the headphones that came with a Sony Walkman, and it's those headphones that I argue determined the diminutive size of my ears. If you're from the Beats by Dre era, do a quick Google search of the industry-changing Walkman and you'll see what I mean. Those old-school headphones were about the size of a 50-cent piece and wrapped in a cheap foam cover. What was cool about them is that if your ears were small enough, they functioned not only as headphones, but also as earmuffs. My working theory is that I spent so much time listening to music while skiing that my ears stopped growing so they could stay warm under my super sweet headphones.
These days there's a lot of debate about music while skiing, and I'm not here to take that up. Folks will tell you it's dangerous to ski with music inbounds because you can't hear the sounds of other skiers. Some people ski around with what amounts to giant speakers strapped to their bodies and blare music for all to hear. A lot of people find this annoying, but personally I've slowed down to match the speed of those people just to listen to a song a bit longer if it matches my current mood. Certainly, tuning in to music and tuning out to the environment while skiing in the backcountry can be unsafe. All these points are valid, and all deserve to be talked about on a deeper level, but for the purposes of what I'm explaining here, just get in the groove and let the beat go on, there's plenty of time to argue about all that other stuff later.
M y closely held belief is that skiing and music belong together, and I'd like to take you on a journey to make you a believer in the unlikely event that you aren't already. I tend to listen to music in different ways while skiing. For instance, if I'm skiing groomers in the sun by myself, I'll keep it low and almost in the background. If I'm out on my own crushing deep powder laps and trying to forget the fiery pain radiating from my quads, I'll crank it up louder and let the beats stoke my endorphins. If I find myself pulling my skis uphill in the backcountry, then the cadence of the music becomes the driving factor as I count on it to get me into the one-two trance required to help forget that I'm essentially walking up a mountain while strapped to the gills with gear.
Obviously music is an individual experience and everyone who listens to music while skiing will have their own versions of these lists, but here's my currently well curated (at least in my mind) list of songs for these different situations:
First stop is the deep powder list because of course it's the most important: "Climb to Safety," Jerry Joseph (Live at the Irish Times, Butte, Montana); "Five White Boys," Current Swell; "The Fun Lovin' Criminals," Fun Lovin' Criminals; "I've Got a Hole Where My Heart Should Be," The Sheepdogs; "Love Spreads," The Stone Roses. Every run on a good powder day is a celebration, and music that pumps up your soul is simply a must.
The first song on this list has long been my favorite powder soundtrack and is long enough that if I time it just right and am riding the correct chair, I can crush three full powder laps before it ends. Try it someday, it's inspirational.
Whenever I slap the skins to the bottom of my skis and strike out the wrong direction on the mountain, which is of course uphill, I seek out a rhythmic cadence. I look for tracks that will slip me into a sort of trance and get my legs pumping back and forth without thinking. Songs that get me lost in my mind and help drive me toward the top of the mountain faster. Without fail, the first song I play when I start out on an uphill track is the first one on this list, and I'm told it's from The Sopranos, which I have never watched: "Woke Up This Morning," Alabama 3; "Detroit Swing 66," Gomez; "Get Higher," Black Grape; "Who Am I," Peace Orchestra; "Purple Haze," Groove Armada. (Sidenote: I'm told I should probably watch it.) Hey there skinner friends, try these tracks on the uphill and tell me they don't help. I dare ya!
We've all got our favorite ski tracks, so I say let the music play. Pop in your headphones, clip on your mini-speaker, strap that backpack speaker to your back or maybe even cover your entire ears with a Walkman from the wayback era, but just remember that your favorites might not be everyone else's so show a bit of consideration. Or don't — what do I care as long as you're having a good time? ♦
John Grollmus is a lifetime resident of the Inland Northwest, local restaurateur and backcountry ski guide. He loves all things outdoors, food of every kind and, more than almost anything, skiing. John can currently be found living with his wife and favorite human, Kim, near Hope, Idaho, and at johngrollmus.com.
