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DENVER, CO. TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 2004-New outdoor rec columnist Scott Willoughby. (DENVER POST PHOTO BY CYRUS MCCRIMMON CELL PHONE 303 358 9990 HOME PHONE 303 370 1054)
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STEAMBOAT SPRINGS — The scene surrounding historic Howelsen Hill on the second Saturday in February is nothing short of dizzying, a sensory saturation of all things skiing in a community that takes its identity from the sport of sliding on snow.

There is far more to Ski Town USA, as the place is known, than the renowned resort at its eastern entrance. Indeed, it is the small ski hill with a single lift in the center of town that moves into the limelight during the annual Winter Carnival that benefits and showcases the Steamboat Springs Winter Sports Club. And Saturday night at the carnival’s 96th edition was no exception.

“The night show is just phenomenal,” said Pat Arnone, one of many volunteers who help the SSWSC thrive. “There’s so much going on out there it’s hard to take it all in. It’s really a reflection of the club and of the town.”

Arnone, 42, serves as the club’s unofficial godfather of gelande — or “alpine ski flying,” as it’s sometimes called. He and his cohorts would get their chance on center stage at Sunday’s pro flying finals, in which competitors would launch themselves off Howelsen’s 118K “big hill” jump on traditional downhill racing skis and land some 300-plus feet away.

First, though, it was the younger generation’s turn to strut its stuff. Everyone from the 5- and 6-year-old Howelsen Howlers skiing down through the dark with nothing more than glow sticks to the club’s freestyle team throwing blind backflips and 360 spins with only a pair of road flares to light the landing. Telemark turners snaked down one slope with sparking flares in tow while cross country skiers made their way across the base area. At one point, more than 100 torch-lit teens skied down the mountain as the gelande group sprang off jumps and through a flaming hoop.

The entire spectacle was kicked off and closed by the 74th annual appearance of The Lighted Man.

“The Lighted Man became an official part of the night show in 1936,” said Jon Banks, son of the original Lighted Man, Claudius Banks. “Anything that had anything to do with skiing, Dad wanted to be a part of it. And he was a hit.”

Donning decorative lights from the tips of his skis to the top of his head, Jon Banks, 61, took over the role full time in 1971 and hasn’t missed an appearance since. Two times during the carnival’s Night Extravaganza, he slips out onto the slopes, flips a switch and skis down with 50 pounds of LED lights, Roman candles and exploding pyrotechnics strapped to his back as a captivated crowd roars its approval.

“Standing up on the hill, the sound is unbelievable,” said Kent Banks, 51, who follows his brother down the mountain with a fire extinguisher should things go awry. “That more than anything, I think, makes it all worthwhile, just that appreciation.”

In a town rife with ski tradition, The Lighted Man serves as another unique quirk of skiing showmanship. It stands to reason that the show takes place on Carl Howelsen’s namesake hill, Colorado’s longest running winter carnival on the state’s longest continuously operating ski area, originally constructed to host it. Back in 1914, Howelsen wanted to persuade people that skiing was more than just a means of transportation — it was fun too.

“In a world where everything changes, it’s become a constant in my life,” said Jon Banks, who intends to continue The Lighted Man tradition through the carnival’s 100th anniversary before “drafting” his nephew, Jonathon, into the role. “Steamboat is a unique spot, and the reason is that there are a lot of unique things that happen here. It’s just a little part that we can do.”

Unlike The Lighted Man, however, Howelsen’s first love and forte was ski jumping, and no winter carnival would be complete without it.

Launch off largest ramp

Sunday’s showstopper offered a rare opportunity for the gelande group to take on Howelsen’s big hill.

Officially titled “gelande-sprung,” a German word that means “terrain jump,” this alpine cousin of the more popular free-heeled nordic jumping discipline offers its unique challenges when competitors launch off the largest ramp they will see all winter.

The 118K ramp can spell catastrophe — as was the case for Bruce Stott of Frisco, who cracked his C-5 vertebra after a gust of wind threw his skis sideways in midair during a seeding jump Saturday. Or it can lead to glory — like it did for Rolf Wilson of Missoula, Mont., who set the world record of 366 feet in 2005 and tied it last year.

“There’s a lot of tradition in this sport,” said Wilson, 30, who held off his younger brother, Erik, to defend his title Sunday. “We’re trying to build the sport back up, but we’re down to three, maybe four jumps a season. I pray it doesn’t fade into oblivion.”

The locked heels, heavier bindings and long, skinny skis (225cm is the length of choice) preferred by gelande jumpers don’t allow them to fly as far as their nordic counterparts. But the sport credited with creation by Alf Engen in Alta back in 1964 is equally technical in its own right, as jumpers can reach speeds of more than 65 mph before springing off the end of the ramp.

Wilson, like many of his peers, is a downhill racer by training. He refined his jumping technique by interviewing sky divers and training on the nordic jumps in Park City, Utah, last summer.

“This is way more technical (than nordic jumping). We have slicker suits than them, fixed heels, poles. We’re bigger and heavier than most of them. That’s what makes this sport so extreme,” he said. “(Nordic) is a tough sport. I’ve got a lot of respect for those guys. They truly do fly. But you’ve got to understand, I’m a downhill racer. Imagine a nordic jumper coming over and doing downhill. I’m sure it’s just as difficult transferring from their sport to ours.”

“It’s just a blast”

As evidenced by the spectrum of skiing disciplines on display at Howelsen Hill alone, gelande has no shortage of competition for attention among generation next. Skiing straight off a ramp with no spins, grabs or flips is about as far from the “new school” as it gets, but this elder statesman of winter air sports still earns respect, even if it’s only once a year.

“This is the big hill, the big show. It’s Winter Carnival, there’s a lot going on, so it makes it just a great overall experience and it’s just a blast,” said Arnone, who invites the public to train on Howelsen’s smaller jumps every Wednesday night in winter (www.-sswsc.org). “Any time you get to fly the big hill, everybody is excited.”

Scott Willoughby: 303-954-1993 or swilloughby@denverpost.com

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