The town was still relatively quiet, in the absence of the eighty or so thousand fans who were expected to invade that weekend for the annual series of Alpine races and debauches.
My own “Holy shit, I’m in Kitzbühel” moment came on a Tuesday in January, earlier this year, after I stepped off the train at the base of the Hahnenkamm gondola. After a moment, he crawled under the netting, put his skis back on, and reëntered the course a little farther down to have a look at the rest of it. That crash, which came to be known as the Wishbone, split Stemmle’s pelvis open and put him in a coma. This was where, years before, the Canadian Brian Stemmle, off his line, had caught a ski in the netting. Initiating the infamous hard-right turn at the bottom of a wall of ice called the Steilhang, he crossed the tips of his skis, lost the line, and careered into the fence. A half-dozen seconds later, airborne over the Mausefalle at sixty-five miles an hour, he thought, Holy shit, I’m in Kitzbühel. Ski poles over wand, beep-beep-beep-beep-beeeeep, two pushes, two strides, and schuss. Eventually, he got the alles ist klar and, in a self-imposed daze, nudged into the start. You don’t get far in this line of work unless you have some control over your nerves, and so Maple calmed himself. Word reached the start, via radio, that the guy had crashed. He wasn’t the first previously undaunted young buck to doubt himself when confronted by the Streif’s proportions and demands-no other course has inspired such fear and respect among the craft’s practitioners, or likely sent as many of them into (or over) the protective fencing and then to the hospital-but none of those predecessors had been him, here, now.Ī couple of hours later, he was in the starting hut for his first training run, peering down past the first two turns toward the precipice called the Mausefalle, or mousetrap, a two-hundred-foot jump over which the previous racer had just vanished.
The thought of hurling himself down the narrow, steep, snaking flume of ice and shadow made him queasy. Ski Team, Maple had side-slipped, and then skied, most of the World Cup’s other majestic, gnarly downhills, but this track-which descends an unremarkable and not particularly tall forested alp called the Hahnenkamm, in Kitzbühel, Austria-seemed to represent a whole new level of inhospitable. Before each one, they inspect the course, which entails side-slipping down while visualizing the line that will deliver them to the finish in the least amount of time. Typically, downhill racers take a couple of training runs in the days leading up to the event. The first time Wiley Maple encountered the Streif, the world’s most fearsome downhill, he was twenty-one years old. We'll provide transportation to and from the regional airports.This content can also be viewed on the site it originates from.
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This luxurious sanctuary is tucked away in the San Juan forest in Mountain Village, just a free gondola ride from the festive town of Telluride. Unwind back at the hotel with a massage at the Himmel Spa or a dip in the pool. At the base of Telluride's mountain resort, ski slopes, hiking trails and a bike park are your playground for the length of your stay. Each vast private residence offers you all the comforts of home with the services and facilities of a luxury hotel. Winter, spring, summer or fall, a stay at Fairmont Heritage Place, Franz Klammer Lodge promises spectacular views of the San Juan Mountains and superlative accommodations. To learn more about the extensive measures we are taking to safeguard, protect and care for you, visit. Caring for our valued guests and employees is our top priority. We are open for reservations and excited to welcome our community. Fairmont Heritage Place - Franz Klammer Lodge
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