'Lifties' love mountain job but find it has pitfalls

By Emily Redfield

March 13, 2008 | From a distance the skiers and snowboarders on the mountain look like leaves in the fall slowly descending back and forth down the mountain side. All are spaced away from each other just enough to avoid a collision. Some fall faster than others, and some skip going back and forth and just head straight down. They all have a trail of powder following them.

The mountain gets bigger and bigger as we approach. Once reaching the base, it is impossible to see the peak. The fresh snow that has fallen overnight sparkles. The reflection of the sun off the powder gives the illusion that glitter had fallen with the snow. It is even sparkling off of the limbs of the evergreen trees that are growing in diagonal rows down the mountain side. I may have a better understanding now of what a ‘majestic mountain' is supposed to look like.

Beaver Mountain is refuge for many winter sports lovers. It attracts people of all ages and all skill levels from all over Northern Utah. I have never seen a child so small bundled up with skis that could not have been more than 36 inches long on his feet. He had them pointed in the front, so his skis made the shape of a pizza slice. He was waiting outside of the small wooden ticket rental lodge with his mother for the ski instructor.

Though I was wearing layers upon layers, it was no match for the cold. You can only see happy faces from everyone at the mountain preparing to spend their day on a pair of skis or a snowboard. It seems out of place for people to be that happy in such a cold situation. My nose felt like needles were lightly poking it. My eyes began to water, and I felt like I needed some sort of eye covering. Maybe something that people that spend a lot of time in the cold know about, but I have yet to discover. My fingers felt numb, and I struggled getting into my pocket for my chap stick. My lips felt tight, as if the skin was getting stretched like a piece of rubber.

"Chap stick is a necessity when you are on the mountain," stated Chris Redfield, avid snowboarder and self-proclaimed ‘lifty'. The lifty is a special breed. They are paid to operate the lifts on the mountain, and also bear the bitter cold. The most outrageous part about them is that they enjoy sitting in the cold. This was a concept that was more than hard for me to comprehend.

"I love my job. I can snowboard whenever I want. I also get coffee really cheap… its Café Ibis coffee. The only part that sucks is how cold it can get. When I got here this morning it was negative 21 degrees!" he exclaimed.

Each morning Redfield gets up at 6:30 a.m. He must be at the bus stop at 6:45 if he wants a ride to work. There is a ‘fun bus' that takes the employees from Logan to Beaver Mountain each morning. It's free to ride and it's a guarantee ride to and from work.

"Sometimes if a young guy is driving, I just take myself. That canyon is dangerous some days, and I do not want to die. Plus sometimes it leaves the mountain late," he said.

The lifty is expected to be at work at 8 a.m. sharp. When they work at the top of the lift, they are up there for eight hours straight. They bring their lunch to the top with them to eat in the small hut that is their only refuge from extreme winds and temperatures. It looks like a small structure that I made of lincoln logs as a child. It also looks like the roof may cave in because of the large amount of snow sitting on top. God forbid they have to go ‘number 2' because there is no toilet at the top. Their only option is a shovel located on the floor of this small hut.

"I have only used that shovel once, and I hope I never have to do it again," said Redfield, who does not even seem embarrassed about the topic.

When working at the bottom of the lift, it is not roughing it like at the top. Usually at the bottom of the main lifts, a lifty has a partner there with them. They also get a lunch break and can get to a bathroom if needed. It is also more social at the bottom.

"We get a discount on food in the dining room too," explained Redfield.

The mountain closes at 4 p.m. every day. Lifties are then allowed to go home, unless there is a night party that is coming in. These are special parties that church, school groups, etc. have. They get discounted lift passes and can ski for a few hours after dark. The lifties take turns running these parties. Usually the temperatures are more extreme, so they are not very desired.

"Night parties cut into my social life. Usually me and a couple of the guys from work like to get a beer when we get back into Logan. If I have to work a night party, I feel like I am missing out on the fun," he said.

The turn-over rate for lifties is surprisingly high. It is a dangerous career path, for those who take risks on the mountain. The first couple weeks that Beaver Mountain was open, three people had to quit due to extensive injuries. There have also been numerous smaller injuries sustained to more than half of the lifty staff.

"I thought I broke my wrist grinding a rail. I was so happy it was only sprained because then I would have been out of a job," said Redfield. "My roommate wasn't so lucky though. He literally broke his back."

Jesse Polis was also a lifty and an avid snowboarder. He was one of the unlucky three that had to quit due to injuries. A disc slipped out of one of his vertebrae not far from the neck. The doctor had told him that he was lucky not to be paralyzed. I went to visit him after hearing this news.

He was sentenced to wear a back-brace for three months straight, 24-hours a day, only taking it off to shower. It was unlike any brace I had ever seen. It immobilized his head all the way to his waist. The Frankenstein-like contraption had strapped around his chest like a book bag. It then had metal bars that went up the side of his neck and head. It was connected at the top by a halo-like piece of metal. It strapped his head in so that he could not twist his neck. So many bars and straps, I would have no idea what it was used for if I were to see it laying on the floor. It looked like a torture device.

"Man, I am so lucky. I'm never doing anything so crazy on a snowboard again," said Polis with a cheerful smile on his face. Though he was in a miserable brace, he still had his same jolly disposition about him that I have always known him to have.

He had been trying to get a jump right all day. It was almost time to go, and on his last run he landed on his neck. His girlfriend has been tending to him day and night since the accident and plans on doing so until he is fully healed.

"The part that sucks the most about this brace is sleeping. I can only sleep on my back partially sitting up. I wake up so much during the night," said Polis.

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