Ira Riklis Blog

Once you’ve really mastered a skill, be it driving, playing music, painting or skiing, you can do it almost without thinking. But while you’re in the process of learning, it seems almost impossible that you’ll ever be able to do it, or at least that you’ll be able to do it with any degree of skill or grace. It was like that for Ira Riklis as he was learning to ski.

Thinking back on it now, Ira Riklis is sometimes amazed he made it through his first family skiing trip. It took him several uncomfortable hours just to get his boots and skis strapped on properly and to learn how to sidestep his way up a small hill that really didn’t even qualify as even a beginner’s slope. Today he could jump that hill without a second thought while zipping down a double black diamond slope. But back then, it felt to him like he’d scaled Mt. Denali when he finally reached the top. It’s something worth remembering when you’re faced with the challenge of learning something new.

On his first family skiing trip as a child, Ira Riklis remembers his father trying to teach him how to use the herringbone method to move around on the slopes. But for a young boy wearing a pair of skis that were two feet longer than he was tall, it was a near impossibility for him to even begin to move his ski tips together in the herringbone pose.

After trying and trying—without success—for more than an hour, Ira Riklis remembers plopping himself down in the snow and starting to cry. In spite of his efforts, he’d traveled all of about three feet. It was then that his sister, who had been skiing before, stepped in and took pity on him by showing him how to sidestep. In doing so, she gave him the first skill that eventually led to a life-long love of the sport. Now, nearly forty-five years later, he’s yet to see anyone use the herringbone for simple movements around the slopes.

For Ira Riklis, his first skiing experience started in a less-than—enjoyable way. When he was around 10, his parents packed up their three children and made the 2.5 hour drive to Hunter Mountain, the closest major ski resort to New York City. It was to be a new experience for the children. They were equipped with the latest gear, but that wasn’t saying much at the time.

Ira Riklis points out that, even though skiing dates back several thousand years, it originated as an offshoot of snowshoeing. The goal back then was to make traveling through the mountains in winter a little bit easier. Ski boots were basically hiking boots and binding were a way of strapping the boots to rudimentary skis. On his first trip, Ira’s bindings consisted of two sets of laces that had to be tied super tight. Not only was this very painful, it meant he had to spend a long, uncomfortable hour just to get strapped in.

Today the goal is recreation and fun – which is much preferred.

Skiing is one of the great passions of Ira Riklis’ life. That may seem surprising considering since, in his words, he’s “a fat, middle aged, non-athletic, New York Jew,” but even more surprising is how good he is at the sport. He credits his skill to his determination and to his ski-instructor turned close friend, Mike Bartasuis. Mike is one of only a handful of people to hold the dual record of skiing over 100 miles per hour and jumping over 200 feet.

Mike’s a pretty determined person as well. His ski gear once consisted of heavily weighted, fifteen-foot long speed skis and skin-tight Teflon ski suit. Realizing that the skis had no provision for turning and the suit would provide no traction on the snow, Ira Riklis asked Mike what would happen if he fell. Mike’s response was that they’d find “pieces of him two or three counties away.” Ira then asked him how he planned to insure his safety. Mike told Ira he had a simple, but most effective plan: “I don’t intend to fall.”