It was at the top of a trail called Hanging Tree that the fear set in. And at the crest of a steep, mogul-filled and tree-strewn trail, it's all about the fear, isn't it? This was near the top of Aspen Mountain last winter, and at moments like these - surveying a no-nonsense double-black-diamond run - the mind will race.
Here was my central thought: Who names a trail Hanging Tree? OK, so that noose playfully dangling from a tree near the trail entrance might be a tip-off, but what exactly are they trying to tell me here?
For a large sector of the skiing public, the message is clear: Go away, you don't belong.
And people listen. It's not about one Aspen trail, it's about a disquieting reality at any major ski resort - 80 percent of the skiers use only 20 percent of the mountain. The blue-square groomers are packed, while the mogul and tree runs are empty. There are a few reasons for this, including the advent of terrain parks and halfpipes that have lured away a lot of young talent.
But there is a bigger factor. The baby boom generation, which created the American ski craze of the 1960s and 1970s, has grown averse to risk. Resorts ought to rename every intermediate cruising trail in the country the 401(k). Because the more you have invested in a retirement account, the more likely that's the trail you'll be on.
Joe Nevin, a 61-year-old Aspen ski instructor, knows the story. He's heard it over and over on Aspen's lifts, talking with middle-age skiers.
"It's kind of the forgotten society of skiing," he said. "They look in the ski magazines, and the stories and pictures are about cliff jumping. They don't want to fly in the air. They don't want to end up in physical therapy. And if they see somebody in the moguls, it's always some 20-year-old banging through the course with his knees in his face. They know that's not for them, either.
Five years ago, Nevin decided to do something with all the information he had acquired during those chairlift rides. He devised a pioneering instruction program aimed at those born between 1946 and 1964 called Bumps for Boomers. In three days of lessons, Nevin erases the fear and, without demanding young, quick reflexes or extraordinary agility, teaches his students to confidently ski black-diamond, even double-black-diamond, mogul runs.
And it works. Nevin's program, which costs US$840 for a three-day session, has turned hundreds of former boomer-groomers into mogul and glade skiers. It is now one of the most popular specialized instruction programs offered by the Aspen Skiing Company, with students flying in from around the country weekly from the middle of December through March. Reservations are required (www.bumpsforboomers.com).
"It's not a gimmick," said Rose Ries, a 51-year-old psychiatrist from Philadelphia who has taken the Bumps for Boomers course. "I was the classic devoted skier who, nonetheless, had no chance in the moguls. Now, tree and mogul runs are the only place I go. I don't even bother with groomers."
Nevin's program is one of several sprouting around the nation, like Mermer Blakeslee's Power Learn programs at Windham Mountain in New York (www.windhammountain.com) and the Prime Time classes at Breckenridge in Colorado (www.breckenridge.snow.com), which is aimed at those 50 and older. At nearby Vail Mountain (www.vail.snow.com), there are masters camps geared to adults. The programs are finding a following because they offer hope to a vast generation searching for something to rejuvenate their skiing. "There are a million kids' instruction programs, but they're not the only people we should be helping get better," said Nevin, a former Silicon Valley executive and longtime weekend ski instructor who settled in Aspen several years ago.



