August is here and for me that means its time for another trip to beautiful New Zealand. There are so many reasons why this summer journey, which has become somewhat of a ski team tradition now, continues to be one of my favorite trips every year. One of those reasons is because I can’t get over how truly awesome it is that skiing takes me to places like this. Being in a place as beautiful as New Zealand makes a good day of training feel even more rewarding and a bad day of training feel, less shitty. 

My first summer ski camp was much closer to home than New Zealand. Mt. Hood, the mecca of summer skiing in the United States was only a short drive from Walla Walla, Washington. But being so close to home didn't make it any easier for me to actually make it through the camp. By day two of camp I couldn't stop throwing up and had to drive back home with my dad. The next two summer ski camps I went to ended with the same result. I think the medical term for it is called being a puker.....or wuss.  Roller costars make most people puke, but for me it was summer ski camp. 

Eventually I was able to stomach my way through a ski camp and I loved it. Wake up and ski all morning, then play some game or sport in the afternoon. Camp was heaven for a ski racing crazed kid like me. Plus, to top it off, every camp had a new group of girls for me to chase after. 

Over the past few years the destination for the summer camps have changed. Instead of quick car rides to the glacier in the neighboring state of Oregon, I’m taking long flights to different hemispheres, chasing winter. But I still found myself tossing and turning at 3 am this morning. Why? Because, that puking kid who couldn't wait to go skiing in the summer is still there. Lucky for me and my stomach, we get to skip day two on are way to New Zealand. 

Until next time, keep it smooth.

Will