“Chinese Downhill… It is the Only Way”

For rules… there are none.  First man to cross the finish line and chug a beer wins.

This past weekend, Parkites gathered with their freshly waxed skis, finest neon spandex, and a chilled PBR at the base of Park City Mountain Resort.  The Corner Store, an après-ski bar (and my place of employment) held the 9th Annual Chinese Downhill.  For those who haven’t seen the movie Hot Dog (shame on you), Chinese Downhill is a ski race at its truest, rowdiest, and barbaric form.

The race starts at Jupiter Peak!  A twenty minute hike up a ridge that leads you to incredible views, steep lines, and adrenalin-hungry mongrels (or homies).

This was my first year competing and all I can say is I’m stoked to have survived.  Fifty skiers and boarders start at the same time, charging downhill… letting gravity, speed and luck take them to the midway station.   There, they have to chug a beer and then continue down the hill.  Once they arrive at the bottom, they sprint to the corner store (yes, ski school and tourists may be jeopardized) to chug a beer.  First one done, wins!  And the rest… are losers.

My start to the race wasn’t stellar.  I immediately entered a white room and realized the snow was moving faster than my skis.  After watching numerous bodies collide in front of me, I stopped to only be carried 30 feet in a ‘sluffalanche’.  I will admit, for a brief second the thought of ‘this is where I break every bone is my body’ occurred when I was headed toward rocks!   But alas, I caught my breath, gave a quick thank you to the mountain deities, and sent it down the rest of the peak…with no poles.  Yes… my sweet soul poles were buried, perhaps sacrificed.

I got to the bottom where beer, friends, and a mechanical bull awaited.  Then I had to throw on an apron, and serve the hooligans. 

Congratulations to my two friends, Kimmy Sharp and Harrison Holly for taking it down!