Greetings from 9,450 feet.

We kept passing this posse of slackers outside the elevator.  You see we’re on the sixth floor, but the lift only goes to the fifth.  So, you’ve got to traverse a small lobby to a staircase in the far corner, to ascend to the sixth floor.  And needing to go up and down to eat lunch, to deposit our skis and boots in the basement, we had to walk around these stretched out thirtysomethings again and again.  The kind of people who steal music and keep jam bands alive but Armani-suited execs are wary of.  And about the fourth time through, the head slacker had his battery removed from his iBook, checking to see if it had been recalled.  And that’s when I weighed in.  Delineating the models that needed to be exchanged as the elevator attendant closed the gate.  And having broken the ice on the previous ride, the next time through I struck up a conversation, I asked the assembled multitude whether they were coming or going.

And the head slacker brightened right up.  They were there for the "Ski With The Superstars" week.  But, what I wasn’t prepared for, in this Mac convention, EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM HAD A MAC LAPTOP, was that these WERE the superstars.

It was kind of like Bono, Keith Richards and Patti Smith all in the same room.

The head slacker was Chris Davenport.  Former U.S. ski team member and now legendary big mountain skier.  His run at the 1996 World Extreme Skiing Championships is the most acclaimed in the history of the sport.  Rather than checking himself, making small turns, he took the whole course in a matter of a few arcs, going about as straight as is humanly possible.

Next to Chris was Shane McConkey.  Just a little bit crazy, he’s the guy who does all the daredevil stunts you see in mainstream media that you just can’t believe. 

Check out this photo of Shane skiBASE jumping. 

If only our rockers were as crazy and carefree as Shane!

As for Wendy Fisher…former U.S. Ski Team member, three time World Extreme Skiing Champion…  She’s the best female freeskier in the States.

But she’s here in Portillo.

I’d like to tell you we’re in heaven, reveling in the atmosphere.  But that would be lying.  It’s positively SCARY HERE!

Getting to Chile wasn’t that bad.  Oh, we had to avoid some weather on the way from Dallas to Santiago, but we only landed an hour late.  Not that I knew we were going to land.  Suddenly the wheels were on the tarmac.  I’ve seen thicker fog, but Felice was convinced in America they would have closed the airport.

And it’s two and a half hours from Santiago to Portillo.  Through landscape that looks just a little bit different from anything you come across in the States.  Vineyards, peach trees and bicyclists on the freeway.

I was getting nervous.  It was in the forties, and snow was nowhere to be seen.  And then we entered the tunnel.  A positively third world hole.  With uneven walls, uneven lights in the ceiling, rough pavement and no ventilation.  And after escaping to the other side we were confronted with SWITZERLAND!  Mountain peaks off in the distance so spectacular that even one who’s been to the Rockies and the Tetons found his jaw dropping.

And then, as we started ascending, the houses looked like shacks.  There were rope bridges over the river from the abodes to the road.  There were cliffs that made me glad we weren’t driving, and then we hit the switchbacks.  Thirty turns going up THOUSANDS of vertical feet with a road that looked like it hadn’t been repaired since the seventies

The road to Portillo

Utterly, positively, frightening.  Where were we GOING?

And then, to our left, we saw a chairlift, going over the road.  We were HERE!  Well, not quite.  A few more switchbacks through tunnels and THEN we were at this lone hotel on the roof of the world.  The lobby of which was so small and was squashed by such a low ceiling that both Felice and I had the urge to bolt.  THIS WAS THE PLACE?

I didn’t picture Portillo being on the road to Argentina.  Straddling and encompassing the switchbacks.  And the wind was blowing and snow was spitting from the sky and…let’s just say the place wasn’t inviting.

And because of the altitude, I felt like shit.

We thought about skiing, but the slopes were frozen, since it had been close to sixty degrees the day before.  And that usually wouldn’t keep me from going out, it’s just that to this very minute, I feel like the world is moving, like I’m still on the plane.

The rooms are basic.  They don’t even have TVs.  And two people can’t pass by each other at once.  But then we went to lunch…

There was a maitre’d in a tux.  The room was filled with people I can only describe as skiers.  We were not alone, we were not the only ones who’d heard the call.  Here in the middle of nowhere, was a mecca, where all the true snow believers had congregated.

The meal had the feel of Europe.

And, after researching the hotel like Eloise, we stumbled upon Chris, Shane and Wendy.  They waxed rhapsodic about the skiing.  How there were no lines.  And it was perfect corn.  And suddenly, Felice and I knew we were in the right place.