The only rocking chairs these three guys and a spirited gal need is one suspended several stories high in the air, gliding above powder-packed mountains.
Each week, this merry band of senior citizens, each of whom is at least 75 years old, taps into its collective fountain of youth and takes to the slopes near Boreal Mountain Resort and the ski slopes that ring the Donner Pass.
If you have to ask why these four might risk life and limb to hone their craft hurtling down mountains at speeds exceeding 40 mph, they'll give you plenty of reasons.
Each week, this merry band of senior citizens, each of whom is at least 75 years old, taps into its collective fountain of youth and takes to the slopes near Boreal Mountain Resort and the ski slopes that ring the Donner Pass.
If you have to ask why these four might risk life and limb to hone their craft hurtling down mountains at speeds exceeding 40 mph, they'll give you plenty of reasons.
"It's just the wonderful feeling of freedom, sliding down the hill with grace and speed," said Ernie Jackson, 80, who first strapped on a pair of skis the year the Chicago Daily Tribune inadvertently gave the 1948 election to Thomas Dewey.
Long before the advent of glitzy ski resorts, Jackson spent winters cross-country skiing along Highway 4 in Arnold. Nearly 30 years later, he purchased a cabin near Serene Lakes.
He's seemingly been on thin ice ever since, as have his pals armed with season passes to Boreal and Sugar Bowl.
Jackson, a retired psychologist, placed an ad in the newspaper nearly 15 years ago looking for ski buddies looking to share his passion for downhill skiing.
Long before the advent of glitzy ski resorts, Jackson spent winters cross-country skiing along Highway 4 in Arnold. Nearly 30 years later, he purchased a cabin near Serene Lakes.
He's seemingly been on thin ice ever since, as have his pals armed with season passes to Boreal and Sugar Bowl.
Jackson, a retired psychologist, placed an ad in the newspaper nearly 15 years ago looking for ski buddies looking to share his passion for downhill skiing.
Soon, he hooked up with former Nevada County Supervisor "GB" Tucker, whom Jackson knew from their time together with the Sierra Club; Marcella Hardt, 81, who learned to ski at Bear Valley; and Syd Hall, 88, a former ski patrolman whose friendship with a world-class skier fueled his passion for the slopes.
When they're out on the powder, it's every man and woman for themselves.
"I challenge 'em all," said Hardt. Asked if she's the best of the group, Hardt, who learned to ski years ago only because she brought the food to an all-guys ski outing decades ago, laughs.
"Just to say it frankly, yes I am."
When they're out on the powder, it's every man and woman for themselves.
"I challenge 'em all," said Hardt. Asked if she's the best of the group, Hardt, who learned to ski years ago only because she brought the food to an all-guys ski outing decades ago, laughs.
"Just to say it frankly, yes I am."
Like her male co-conspirators, Hardt beats back time by keeping her body limber. She does yoga each week, walks around her Alta Sierra neighborhood, swims in the summer and takes hikes with the Sierra Club. As the years advance, she's limited her hikes to those that are six miles or less.
She has little sympathy for those who let time take their bodies over.
"I work at it every day, but it's just a natural part of my life."
Hardt raised a family of skiers through the years - her three children, 11 grandchildren and most of her six great-grandchildren can all spin powder.
She has little sympathy for those who let time take their bodies over.
"I work at it every day, but it's just a natural part of my life."
Hardt raised a family of skiers through the years - her three children, 11 grandchildren and most of her six great-grandchildren can all spin powder.
"And I taught every one of them," she said.
Tucker last stepped into his skis as a Marine in 1958. Attending a mountain leadership camp in the Mono County town of Bridgeport, he tore up his knees when he ran into deep snow and did a face plant.
He decided to pursue skiing as a way to stay in shape. "It's a thrill to go down a slope with some speed. We ski because we can still do it," Tucker said simply.
Hall didn't initially take up skiing to stay fit, but it, too, has become a large part of his routine.
Tucker last stepped into his skis as a Marine in 1958. Attending a mountain leadership camp in the Mono County town of Bridgeport, he tore up his knees when he ran into deep snow and did a face plant.
He decided to pursue skiing as a way to stay in shape. "It's a thrill to go down a slope with some speed. We ski because we can still do it," Tucker said simply.
Hall didn't initially take up skiing to stay fit, but it, too, has become a large part of his routine.
He first skied 60 years ago and through the years has become a regular skier at northern Nevada, Utah and California resorts.
Skiing allowed Hall to forge a friendship with downhiller Lew Davis, who was scheduled to participate in the 1940 Winter Olympics in Tokyo before the games were called off due to World War II.
Hall skied with Davis at Alpine Meadows for many years.
"I brag to people that I was able to keep up with him," Hall said.
Skiing allowed Hall to forge a friendship with downhiller Lew Davis, who was scheduled to participate in the 1940 Winter Olympics in Tokyo before the games were called off due to World War II.
Hall skied with Davis at Alpine Meadows for many years.
"I brag to people that I was able to keep up with him," Hall said.
Hall said a vegetarian diet has made him able to outperform people decades younger than himself.
"I eat anything that didn't have eyes and didn't look at you before you ate it," he said.
Out on the slopes, Hall, like the others, is free again until it's time to get back up on that rocking chair dangling from the sky for another run down the slopes.
"You get a rush and a thrill that's hard to describe," Hall said. "When you complete a ski run and do it perfectly, there's a euphoric feeling."
"I eat anything that didn't have eyes and didn't look at you before you ate it," he said.
Out on the slopes, Hall, like the others, is free again until it's time to get back up on that rocking chair dangling from the sky for another run down the slopes.
"You get a rush and a thrill that's hard to describe," Hall said. "When you complete a ski run and do it perfectly, there's a euphoric feeling."




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