A Test Run at Russia’s Olympic Hopeful
Before I could board the gondola at Rosa Khutor, a ski area that is part of Sochi, the site of next year’s Winter Olympics, I first had to trundle through a metal detector manned by Russian soldiers with machine guns and furry hats. This is not something I’m used to. At chairlifts in the American West, where I typically ski, you find cheerful young attendants who are stoked to be on their feet all day because that’s what it takes to live the dream.
Unlike those armed soldiers, Sasha Krasnov, a local guide I’d arranged to meet, would be at home in the Rockies. Twenty-seven and shaggy haired, he is a self-identified “free rider” — an off-piste skier. A storm had delivered two feet of fresh snow overnight, ending a long dry spell, and Sasha, his head tucked under a dirt bike helmet, was as giddy as a child on Christmas morning.
The gondola ferried us out of the base area, high above an Italianate clock tower built with an oligarch’s money, across a birch forest stippled with powder. Thick clouds obscured my view, so I unfolded a trail map, which was entirely in Russian. On it, I could see that Rosa Khutor was laid out much like a European resort, with a series of chairlifts linking the river valley, at 1,800 feet, with a craggy, treeless summit at 7,612 feet. As in the Alps, the resort takes a laissez-faire approach to marking trails. Only a handful had designated names, which weren’t helpful anyway, unless you read Cyrillic or had a knack for symbol recognition. I wondered aloud whether any rope or signage designated the resort’s boundary.
“No rope!” Sasha replied with a knowing smile. “This is Russia.”
Vladimir Putin may be better known as a judo master and shirtless fisherman, but come winter, when snow coats the onion domes atop St. Basil’s Cathedral in Moscow, the Russian president heads for the slopes. The Wikipedia entry for ski suit, in fact, features an image not of the Olympic stars Lindsey Vonn or Bode Miller but of Mr. Putin, wearing the red two-piece uniform of Russia’s national team. On his personal website, he declares skiing “a dynamic sport that requires mastering a technique, and is a great opportunity for an active holiday, to stay fit and get a boost of energy and good spirits.”
说起弗拉基米尔·普京(Vladimir Putin)，他更为人熟知的一面恐怕是柔道高手和光膀子渔夫，但当冬季到来，大雪掩盖了莫斯科圣巴索大教堂(St. Basil’s Cathedral)的穹顶，这位俄罗斯总统就会动身走向雪山的陡坡。在维基百科的网页上，“滑雪服”的词条所配的照片不是奥运明星林赛·沃恩(Lindsey Vonn)，也不是伯德·米勒(Bode Miller)，而是普京。照片上，他穿着俄罗斯国家队的红色两件套队服。在普京的个人网页上，他宣称滑雪是一种“活力四射的运动，要求你熟练掌握一套技能，这一绝佳的机会能让你以运动方式度假，帮你保持体型，增强能量，获得灵感”。
He also claims to prefer skiing in Russia. Until recently, however, there was little the country offered a foreign skier seeking an active holiday, never mind those good spirits. Russia’s tallest peaks are along its southern border with Georgia, in the Caucasus mountain range. The mountains stretch diagonally in a belt from the Black Sea, east to the Caspian. The tallest of them, Mount Elbrus, reaches higher than any in the rest of Europe, with an elevation of 18,500 feet. But beyond some heli-skiing operations, the handful of ski areas dating from the Soviet era hardly justified an Aeroflot ticket.
Not surprisingly, then, wealthy Russians have preferred skiing the Alps. Around a decade ago, the Russian government decided that there was no reason they needed to lose those vacation rubles to Switzerland, France and Italy. They flew in a mountain resort developer from Whistler, British Columbia, Paul Mathews, to evaluate the potential of the Caucasus for winter tourism. Mr. Mathews looked at the jagged ridgelines surrounding the sleepy village of Krasnaya Polyana, nestled in a river valley above Sochi, a city of about 400,000; at the long, deep gulleys that tumbled down from them; at the region’s glaciated bowls and gentle plateaus. It reminded him of Les Trois Vallées in France, among the world’s largest linked ski areas. Mr. Mathews drafted some plans, and in 2002, Interros, a conglomerate controlled by Vladimir Potanin, one of Russia’s richest men, and Gazprom, the world’s largest natural-gas producer, began building ski resorts.
所以，当年俄罗斯富人都爱去阿尔卑斯山滑雪，也没什么奇怪的了。大约十年前，俄罗斯政府决定，再也不能眼睁睁地看着大把的金钱白白落入瑞士、法国和意大利人的口袋了。他们邀请加拿大卑诗省惠斯勒滑雪场的高山度假发展专家保罗·马修斯(Paul Mathews)来评估高加索山区发展冬季旅游项目的潜力。马修斯先生深入考察了周围的地形：曲折的山脊深处，寂静的红草地(Krasnaya Polyana)小村安居溪谷，俯瞰40万人口的大城市索契。流淌的溪水汇入一条漫长而幽深的河涧，四周分布着冰斗谷和平缓的高原。马修斯想起了全世界最大的滑雪胜地法国Les Trois Vallées，画出了几张设计草图，2002年，俄罗斯大富商弗拉基米尔·波塔宁(Vladimir Potanin)控股的国际罗斯集团(Interros)和全球最大的天然气制造商高兹普罗姆(Gazprom)开始共同建造滑雪场。
Situated on the Black Sea, Sochi has a pleasant, temperate climate that has lured Russians to seaside sanitariums since the days of Stalin. The palm trees there can almost fool you into believing you’re in another country. “Sochi is a unique place,” Mr. Putin told the International Olympic Committee in his winning pitch to host the 2014 Games. “On the seashore, you can enjoy a fine spring day — but up in the mountains, it’s winter.”
When I flew into Sochi last March, joined by my friend Than, it was neither springlike nor fine. The late-winter storm, which had diverted our flight from Moscow the previous night, cast a gray and despondent mood over the subtropical city. We took a taxi to Krasnaya Polyana, an hourlong trip up a winding, two-lane road, through the gorge of the Mzymta River. (A new highway and high-speed railway, being built across the river, will cut the travel time in half.)<纽约时报中英文网 http://www.qqenglish.com/>
It was less than a year before the Olympic torch would arrive in early February, and Krasnaya Polyana didn’t resemble a quaint French mountain valley so much as the world’s largest alpine construction site. Cranes towered over the half-built shells of condos and hotels that lined the river like a speculative stretch of a Monopoly board. Dump trucks rumbled down the main road, kicking up dust and snarling traffic. Out the taxi window, I watched groups of olive-skinned guest workers carrying plastic bags shuffle out of convenience stores and then disappear behind wire fences lined with banner ads that depicted sun-drenched resort villages and smiling ski tourists.
Rosa Khutor, the largest of the four new ski areas based a short drive apart along the valley floor, was nearly complete. It appeared much like a visitor will find it this season: two rows of pastel-colored hotels with ground-level restaurants flanking the Mzymta River; a clock tower square; lamp-lit pedestrian bridges; an indoor skating rink. When I arrived, a few families strolled the brick-lined esplanade lining the river, throwing snowballs. In the lobby of our hotel, the Tulip Inn, members of the Russian ski team lounged around with beers. Rosa Khutor, which is hosting the Olympic alpine events, ran test competitions last winter, but many had been canceled for lack of snow. Resolved not ever to let this happen again, the resort has been equipped with the most robust snow-making system in existence.
”This is a nice present for us,” Sasha said as we rode the gondola the next morning. The storm had delivered too much of a good thing, it turned out, as the exposed upper half of the mountain — arrayed with chutes and couloirs — was closed. Sasha handed me an avalanche transceiver from his bag, and asked if I had used one before. We would be skiing inbounds and close to the lift — nothing too steep — but the implication was clear: We were, for all practical purposes, on our own. This was Russia.
At the top of the lift, a digital board displayed ski conditions, rating the avalanche danger as four on a scale of five. “Very dangerous in alpine zone,” Sasha said.
We were joined by a handful of other locals, including Inna Didenko, a blond Sochi native and competitive free rider. Than and I followed their tracks into the woods. The crystalline snow there was thigh-high and untouched; a snowboarder in neon yellow pants jokingly declared, in Russian, the universal skiing dictum of there being “no friends on a powder day” before leaving us behind.
Each of us then picked our own line, first Sasha, who banked three turns and swiftly vanished behind some birch trees. I chose a route to his right. Midway down, from across the slope, I could make out Than, hooting loudly.
That evening, at the swanky bar inside the Park Inn, I met with Jean-Louis Tuaillon, the mountain manager at Rosa Khutor. “Have you been on the road in Russia and seen how people are driving?” he asked me. I thought of my taxi driver’s slalom turns and tailgating up the winding road from the airport. “They are skiing the same way. The typical Russian experience is wild skiing.”
那天晚上在公园酒店(Park Inn)时髦的酒吧里，我遇见了罗莎库塔的山区经理让-路易斯·图埃朗(Jean-Louis Tuaillon)。“你见过俄罗斯人开车吗？”他问。我想起从机场来到这里的路上，出租车司机像障碍滑雪那样高难度转弯，在蜿蜒的公路上对前车紧追不舍。“他们滑雪也是这样的。经典的俄罗斯体验就是疯狂的雪山飞驰。”
Mr. Tuaillon was with the French company Compagnie des Alpes, which operates major resorts like Chamonix and Val d’Isère and has been tasked by Rosa Khutor’s owner with turning it into a world-class ski area. This apparently entailed making Rosa Khutor less Russian.
图埃朗先生在法国公司Compagnie des Alpes工作，它的客户是Chamonix和Val d’Isère这样的大型滑雪度假区。罗莎库塔的老板交给他们的任务是把它变成世界级滑雪场，因此它显然需要淡化自己的俄罗斯风格。
“Our goal is to have friendly people at guest services,” added Mr. Tuaillon’s colleague Jean-Marc Farini, the ski area’s general manager. “In Russia, this hasn’t been done before. You still have this Soviet legacy. People don’t care.”<-->纽约时报中英文网 http://www.qqenglish.com<-->
I described my experience renting skis that morning — late-model Rossignols, with a snazzy sticker reading “CZAR” — which had involved the usual Russian formalities: relinquishing my passport at a cashier’s window in return for a paper stamped with an official-looking seal.
Mr. Farini nodded sympathetically. “For the cash register, I wanted to adopt a single line, so you go up to the first one that’s available,” he said. “But that just doesn’t work in Russia.”
The next morning, we found the mountain still socked in. With the upper half of Rosa Khutor closed — still with an avalanche rating of “very dangerous” — we took a free village bus 10 minutes downriver toward the center of Krasnaya Polyana, to Gornaya Karusel (Mountain Carousel), another new ski area.
The entrance to the base gondola is beside the main road, and as we lifted off, I was afforded an aerial view of the bulldozers and earthmovers remaking this former backwater. The build-out of the Sochi Olympics — a megaproject of new tunnels, highways, ski lifts, stadiums and lodging — is said to have cost $51 billion, the highest price tag ever for the Games. But its environmental cost might add untold billions to that figure. Environmental groups point to pollution and deforestation, of Sochi National Park shrinking in size, of coastal wetlands being used as a dump, of the Mzymta River becoming unswimmable. As activists have spoken, they’ve also been detained.
The issue that has gained more attention is gay rights, following a new Russian law banning “homosexual propaganda” that went into effect earlier this year. Though there have been calls for boycotts, officially, gay tourists are welcome, and Olympic organizers have agreed to set up protest zones during the Games. This week, in what has been widely perceived as a snub, President Obama named two openly gay athletes to be part of the American delegation to Sochi — but none of the nation’s top political figures.
Meanwhile, in response to violence promised by Islamist insurgent leaders, based just 250 miles or so from Sochi in the republics of Chechnya and Dagestan, Russia has put in place unprecedented security, including the use of underwater sonar and drones.
That security plan also includes armed soldiers at ski lifts. After two gondolas, we wended our way down an empty, untracked chute along the ski boundary that fed into a spacious glade. The air was warmer than the previous day, cementing the powder as we descended. Our trail petered out at the edge of a dirt service road, which we had to walk across to reach the chairlift. The security guard manning the lift glared disapprovingly at our muddy boots, muttering something to Sasha, who lectured something back. The guard shrugged and looked away.
Sasha later explained: “He says to us, ‘You cannot get on with your dirty boots.’ I tell him, ‘You are not the boss. You have to be hospitable to the guests.’”
Around midday, the clouds briefly lifted, and for the first time I glimpsed the jagged contour of the summit ridge. Gornaya Karusel is a much smaller ski area than Rosa Khutor, but Sasha finds its varied terrain and tree skiing superior. “Better for free riding,” he said. Eventually, all four ski areas surrounding Krasnaya Polyana will be linked by a single lift pass.
We took a few laps down a wide-open bowl, before stopping in at a log chalet for lunch. The place was packed with Russians. I ordered a bowl of solyanka, a hearty red soup, and a glass of mulled wine, and we chatted about the differences between skiing in Russia and North America. Than and I had once taught skiing in Crested Butte, Colo. Sasha has never been to the States. “American people are very interesting to me,” he said. “If a bad skier has fallen, nobody is just waiting around. All come to help! If I fall, I must stand up myself. Because it’s my experience. It is, I don’t know, the school of life.”
I looked out the window. Sleet had begun to fall, orienting my thoughts toward a sauna. We decided to take a final run. Sasha was eager to show us a densely forested area he called the Magic Forest that had “many Christmas trees.” From the top of the lift, we traversed the slope, first passing by the entrance to a bowl where a sign was posted in Russian and English: “Driving outside of the lines is forbidden.”
Sasha grinned. “But if you do it,” he said, “no one will stop you.”
IF YOU GO
Rosa Khutor’s website (en.rosaski.com) contains information about lift prices and lodging.
The clean, three-star Tulip Inn (tulipinnrosakhutor.com; 7-862-243-0000) is, like all hotels in the base area, just steps from the gondola and rental shop. Rooms from 5,800 rubles ($185 at 32 rubles to the dollar).
三星级的郁金香酒店(Tulip Inn; tulipinnrosakhutor.com; 7-862-243-0000)整洁卫生，跟滑雪场附近的所有酒店一样，旁边就是缆车和租赁店。客房价格5800卢布（约等于185美元。1美元等于32卢布）起。
Or try the Park Inn by Radisson (parkinn.com/hotel-rosakhutor; 7-862-243-1111), which has a popular bar and Bavarian-style gastro pub. Hotels can help arrange airport transportation, as well as issue lift tickets.
或者去雷迪逊酒店集团下属的公园酒店(Park Inn; parkinn.com/hotel-rosakhutor; 7-862-243-1111)，有深受欢迎的酒吧和巴伐利亚风格的美食吧。酒店可安排机场接送及缆椅票预订。
Skiing with a guide at Rosa Khutor is not necessary, but the experienced “free riders” at Adventure Studio (snowsports.ru) know the Krasnaya Polyana region well. Hiring a mountain guide costs 6,000 rubles a person per day, or 2,500 rubles a person for a group of three.
在罗莎库塔滑雪，教练不是必需的，不过冒险工作室(Adventure Studio; snowsports.ru)经验丰富的“自由骑士”对红草地小村附近的地形了如指掌。请个高山滑雪教练大概是每人每天6000卢布，三人团体请一位教练的费用是2500卢布。