The word “Portillo” literally means “opening” or “road between two heights” and that is what describes this year’s trip the best. The highs and lows, the laughter, the tears of this trip set a standard for personal exploration unlike any that I have witnessed. We set our sights on skiing Saturday, August 16th, but were turned back at the gate to the “Uspallata Pass” (the main pass between Chile and Argentina) due to the 3 feet of snow that had fallen the night before. Needless to say we were anxious to get up there. We had come so far only to be told we would have to wait several hours for the road to open. Six hours later we got the word that the bus would carry us back to Santiago for the night. Avalanches had blocked the road and the only way to Hotel Portillo was via helicopter, available to the earliest signups or well-heeled dignitaries. We knew we were truly in Latin America and sequestered by the high Andean mountains of Chile. We also realized how insignificant we all were compared to the forces of nature and the powers of the highway “carabineros” (patrol). The delay was not completely in vain; we had waited with our fellow road bound tribe that included Portillo guests, Latin American truck drivers, carabineros, farmers from the rural reaches of the highway and the family who ran the tiny road side empanada restaurant. We had made new friends. We headed back down the road toward civilization in silence, wondering what tomorrow would bring.
The sting of being rejected by nature was softened by our cushy stay at a fine hotel in Santiago. The hotel staff buzzed about and hovered over us as we pulled our skis into the hotel lobby. After checking in we all bonded over a superb Chilean steak dinner and pisco sours while more wait staff serviced and catered to our eating and drinking needs. The group came from a diverse back ground, half NASTC alumni and half new folks who were jumping in with both feet. When you come together with people from very different backgrounds and connect over the common love for skiing you experience a state of inhibition that is crucial for a life defining experience. A nurse from CA, a farmer from Maine, a lawyer from Chicago, a doctor from New York, a machinist from CA, a land surveyor from So. Cal (the list goes on): all connected together by a belief in the rejuvenating powers of skiing in the high mountains. Laughter is truly a universal language and we befriended each other immediately. We also quickly came to the common belief that we would be skiing in Portillo by the following day. “Pisco Bob,” a developer from LA, with his keen wit became the unofficial ambassador of the 2008 NASTC/ Portillo group. We all laughed hard at each other and our situation. Of course we could have sulked and complained but we chose to see the proverbial glass as “half-full.” Off to a good start!
The next morning we piled into the bus and departed our urban oasis. Santiago is a city of 5 million souls. The sites and smells of the capital were extra powerful due to the storm that had washed the city clean. The Andes were in clear view in almost every direction I turned. One hour after leaving the hotel we noticed an unmarked navy blue sedan driving dangerously close to our full size bus. Our bus driver who seemed used to being pulled over by unmarked vehicles gingerly guided the bus into the breakdown lane, or that strip of dirt that divided the pavement with the cacti. Pisco Bob emerged from the sedan. “How could we have left our ambassador?” I asked myself. Not good, this is no way to start a week-long trip when we depend so much on each other. Was there no role call for the 30 inhabitants of the space capsule destined for Portillo? My first thought was: how can I possibly make it up to him? Bob being savvy in the ways of leverage capitalized upon the situation for all it was worth, telling me he’d left three messages on my wife Jenny’s cell phone, and making me start to sweat his reaction. He demanded I call her back to let her know all was fine. I dialed (on his phone). As he broke into a huge grin, hysterical NASTC lore was written yet again: he laughed it all off and told me to tell her that I was actually in full control of the situation!
After navigating the 37 switchbacks on the infamous trans-Andean highway, Portillo came into sight. Approaching the big yellow hotel, Portillo is like seeing land after a long time at sea. You can smell and feel its “Terra Madre” essence. I know no other ski area where the soul of the place comes up and greets you at the door. First timers to Portillo feel this as strongly as alumni. The magic combination of the warmth of the hotel and the extremes of the outlying environment creates a trance-like state that Freud would call “that oceanic feeling.” One of the NASTC clients and our resident psychiatrist - confirmed that “yes, the sense of being enveloped by the immensity of the mountains and the warmth of the hotel does have something to do with our mothers.” Portillo makes you want to throw up your hands in surrender and yell: “llevame” (take me)!
As we exited the bus in single file we all gawked at the infinite skiing possibilities. Steep groomers, couloirs, powder runs and runs that looked like huge tongues lapping up the sides of the rocky summits beckoned to us. We were here to ski hard and get to know the mountain and ourselves. We all checked into the hotel and hustled to get our ski equipment on and test the snow against our airplane and bus seat-shaped legs. Fast skiing and a 35 mph wind in your face is the elixir of regeneration and after two runs we all agreed that we had found the fountain of youth. A sorcerer’s concoction of newt eyes and goats blood would not have served us better. Without delay, we all began to fall into Portillo’s alpine spell.
At Portillo, condors circle overhead when the thermals of an approaching storm blow in. Their huge wingspans stretch like black flags as they float across the sky. They are an important part of the Portillo experience because they represent something that is deeply indigenous to the Chilean landscape. Likewise, the Chilean wine tradition weaves a natural connection between the hotel guest and the people who work the land in the vineyards several thousand feet below the hotel. The spirit of the Latin culture is transported through the wines and a salsa beat draws kindred souls together. Ski people are connected by the wonder of nature’s powers: the wind, blowing snow, gravity and the rush of being a part of the whole is intoxicating. As you fly down the slopes of Portillo you find there is little difference between you and the condors
There is so much to know about Portillo and in our 15 years going there, locals have shared its oral tradition with us. The lake in front of the hotel is named “Inca Lake” because apparently after an Inca prince died in battle, his true love cried a lake-full of tears, creating the magical body of water upon which the hotel sits. More recent stories tell of the 1942 avalanche that buried many people alive. One railroad worker dug himself out and hiked days for help. The rescue party also dug out someone buried for 5 days. Happier tales have also been told, those of international ski champions, heads of state, and an occasional dictator gracing the slopes of Portillo. Portillo is the summer training ground for many national ski teams, so it is not uncommon to see the stars of the World Cup hanging out in the hotel or ripping down the slopes.
The higher reaches of Portillo skiing are serviced by a five person poma lift that rockets you 1500 vertical feet in seconds. A hair raising downhill turtle ride (read: on your back) can result if you are unprepared for the abrupt stop at the 30 degree slope at the top. The runs available off the “Roca,” “Condor,” “Viscacha” and the “Cara” lifts are steep and challenge the most competent skier. The “Juncaleio” and “Plateau” lifts can satisfy any level but provide excellent cruising and carving possibilities. The NASTC program took advantage of all the opportunities and challenges the mountain offered up.
We knew we were here in Chile to write or own personal legends. That is exactly what NASTC’s mission in Portillo is: to help our students reach their own personal limits by skiing with the highest level coaches/guides, coaches who have been trained in a custom ski training program designed to fill the students’ cups with knowledge, passion and adventure. NASTC’s creed is to develop a supportive environment that’s void of distractions such as self-criticism and unrealistic personal expectations, which can interfere with the process of growth. This state of mind is easy to achieve in Portillo, though the breakthroughs sometimes feel like you’re in a Fellini film. Being prepared to have extraordinary feelings become frequent feelings requires an opening in our mindset. Hence Portillo’s name: “the opening.” Young, old, or in the middle, the Portillo spell is inescapable. It comes from every corner and at any moment.
My wife Jenny and I have been taking groups to Portillo for 15 years. All three of our children have skied there and have all have been equally effected by the indelible experience. My ten year old son has had 5 birthday cakes presented to him by the Portillo wait staff with all the fanfare of national political convention. Balloons, streamers, and confetti fill the room as a conga line of waiters surround the birthday boy or girl. A chorus of “feliz cumpleanos” almost levitates the hall. On occasion a cake can be presented to celebrate an event other than a birthday. In my case I was presented a cake with an enormous bus atop to remind me to never, ever leave Pisco Bob behind again.
The days in Chile blend into a week-long continuum of exhilarating alpine ski descents, lazy lunches at mid-mountain Tio Bob’s, sweaty hikes into the Laguna (lake) untracked powder runs, wine drinking, interesting conversation in the main living room, lounging by the pool taking in the scenery, fine dinners in the dining room and silly, rowdy hours in the bar and disco. All these connected micro-epics become a dream-like tapestry of emotion that gets imprinted into your mind and stays with you long after you have returned home. After one of these long, circular days you look forward to collapsing into a warm bed with fresh Portillo sheets. Just dropping in bed is the best part; hopefully you are not too tired to take your clothes off.
There was something I needed to tell the group and it gnawed on me. The week was going so well I did want to bring up anything that would have reminded us that we were on a sabbatical from the realities of life back home or in Santiago for that matter. My mother-in-law has produced an important documentary film about the indictment of the infamous Chilean dictator Pinochet that was premiering in Santiago the day we were to leave Portillo. “The Judge and the General” is a heavy film that graphically illustrates the horrors that took place during the Pinochet era. I struggled to justify hiding the opportunity for tickets that have been set-aside for our group. I feel that to know Chile well one must explore the very recent dark history that formed the country and its people. However this movie depicts stories of torture and murder like nothing I have ever seen: the clandestine underpinnings and hidden government agendas of the Pinochet era in Chile. If you could glimpse into a nation’s mental and moral pathology, this movie would be as clear a lens as you could find. It just did not seem to mesh with the tone of the week, especially since we had missed the first two days (of seven) of skiing. Plus to make it down to Santiago in time, we would have to depart early and miss another day of skiing. So I decided to leave the movie viewing out of the itinerary and focusing on a fun ending as opposed of a dark one. Like the Chilean people I want to remember the good times.
As the week came to a close we set our sites on our departure plans and our final night in Santiago. Leaving Portillo is always tough and people unconsciously leave a part of themselves as the bus lumbers out on the road home. I have never been on a trip to Portillo, when someone hasn’t reported forgetting a camera, boots, phone, car keys or a variety of other totems sacrificed to the hotel. We had all left something in Portillo, some things more obvious than others. We all had become different, but closer to who we really are as people in the worldwide ski tribe. We all had a similar connection to the mountains, the high alpine environment and the spirit of Portillo.
I never imagined that NASTC would have amassed such a well-educated, healthy, vibrant, inquisitive and energetic following. We are all pilgrims trudging through our lives: looking, listening and feeling for that portal or opening that reveals what we know is the source of our awe and wonderment. The vehicle may be masked as skiing, but it may also be our willingness to leave what is known and try the alternative. Mike Sodergren one of the founders of NASTC made an astute observation after watching a group of his students thrash their way down a particularly gnarly chute. He turned to me with an elfish grin and said, “The flesh is weak, but the spirit is strong.” Mike and his wife Mariam were killed the following year in a mudslide in Thredbo, Australia. Ten years later Mike’s influence, passion, humor and guiding insights still live within the NASTC program.
To thank people for coming, trying, learning, gaining, loosing and opening seems anemic compared to the intensity of the experience, so I felt almost dishonest as I bid each person farewell. I was trying to put words in place if feelings. So I try not to use words, but I do look into each of my students’ eyes and that seems right.