Blasts from the Past, Cross Country Skier, December 2005
Maybe it’s the buckskin they’re wearing, but the racers assembling at the starting line don’t look like they’re about to rocket over the snow. Beaded leather and fringe hardly enhance a skier’s aerodynamics, but neither does the expansive belly I see spilling over one competitor’s breeches. There’s more than one reason why these skiers shun Lycra.
But then the starting gun fires--it’s actually a miniature reproduction cannon--and with antique rifles slung over their shoulders, the International Muzzle Loading Biathlon racers stride onto the course. Skating is prohibited at this retro event; participants prefer to use the classic diagonal stride to guide their wooden skis around the one-kilometer track. I’m impressed by how graceful, even stately, they look. By making the challenging sport of cross-country skiing even tougher--using pre-1840’s equipment and clothing from the fur-trapper era--these competitors certainly prove that newer isn’t always better. So forget about being sleek and fast: Every participant here will tell you that the muzzle loading biathlon is all about appreciating the beauty in the sport’s pioneer roots.
The competition got its start back in 1975, when a group of black-powder enthusiasts wanted an excuse to get out and shoot during the winter. Calling themselves The Medicine Springs Skunk Skinners and Beaver Trappers Association, they issued an invitation to only the most stalwart of muzzle loading skiers to join them for a biathlon in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. Before the development of the ski resort, Steamboat (or Medicine Springs, as it was first known) served as the hunting-grounds for Ute Indians and mountain men. Impressed by the early explorers’ ingenuity and self-sufficiency, the founders styled the biathlon as a tribute to the challenges pioneers faced as they traveled and hunted in snowy, mountainous terrain.
Even 32 years later, history remains the one aspect of this event that participants take seriously. Everyone must use black-powder, muzzle-loading rifles with open sights--no telescopic lenses or any other high-tech improvements. To round out the getup, most do a great deal of research into the explorers’ way of life, studying the clothing and equipment of the fur-trapper era and recreating it with painstaking authenticity. Some of the antique objects are purchased, but many are hand-crafted reproductions made by the muzzle loaders themselves.
Paul Yonekawa, a longtime participant who now coordinates the biathlon, first got involved because he likes working with his hands. Drawn to the craftsmanship of historic firearms, he enjoys figuring out how their makers created beautiful yet functional objects without the benefit of machinery. Yonekawa then uses those techniques himself to make his historically-accurate powder horns and accessories.
The rich history of antique firearms and ski equipment lures Yonekawa even when they’re persnickety. "They have a personality and can be stubborn at times," he admits, but he feels the extra T.L.C. is worth it. "It’s kind of like the difference between a prefab house and a Victorian home," Yonekawa explains. "There’s just more romance to the period home."
Not every biathlete is as devoted to historic objects as Yonekawa, but he says most can at least appreciate them. That’s why the competition is actually comprised of two classes: Traditional --which requires 1840’s clothing and pre-WWII wooden skis, and Open--which permits modern skis and clothing. It’s more of a fun race than a serious competition, and it’s not unusual for someone to break off shooting to help a fellow contestant who’s having troubles. The targets also hint at the whimsy of the event: Shooters take aim at colorful cookies shaped like stars, ducks, trees and leaves. "We make them out of salt dough," Yonekawa explains, "and we use any cookie cutter people have hanging around, so long as it’s about two inches across. Bigger than that and it’s too easy to hit."
The goal of the competition is to ski four total kilometers, stopping at intervals to shoot nine cookies by firing up to twelve shots. Racers begin with a lap around the course; then, at the firing line, they try to slow their breathing to shoot effectively. The process is a bit more complicated than ready, aim, fire. With flint rifles you’ve got to clean the gun, measure the gun powder, put the flint in, and finally, aim and pull the trigger. It’s far from easy--but then, that’s the point. "I actually enjoy the combination of shooting and skiing and stress of trying to do both," Yonekawa says. "There is a great sense of satisfaction in checking your target, seeing the broken cookies, and knowing how tough it is to ski your guts out and yet be controlled enough to shoot well--or hit anything at all, for that matter!"
Results are calculated by combining skiing and shooting scores: Missed targets translate into a time penalty that’s added to the participant’s skiing time. The fastest adjusted time wins. "If you’re a great skier," Yonekawa observes, "you can miss all your targets and still win."
There’s actually a way for pretty much everybody to win something, and after the competition, racers and their families head to the nearby Steamboat Springs Community Center to claim their medals. In addition to first, second and third-place awards in both Traditional and Open classes, there’s separate categories for percussion and flint-type rifles, a top marksman award, an "over 50" and "over 60" category, and women. Yonekawa says he’s also thinking about offering a new category called "combined," which will allow the participant to shoot while someone else does the skiing. "A lot of guys have been participating for years and now they’re having a hard time with the athletic part," he says, "so this would keep the old farts in it."
Those old farts also have a lot of knowledge to share about old-timey shooting and skiing, and the awards ceremony is open to the public so people can check out their antique equipment and learn about its history. A few swap tables display objects set out for purchase or trade, and long after the shooting and skiing winds down, participants stay in their garb and chat about their storied gear.
Ask them how clothing made of leather and wool compares to today’s high-tech fabrics, and most will tell you there’s advantages to the traditional materials. "Wool is still one of the best natural insulators," Yonekawa maintains (and with Smartwool headquartered here in Steamboat, everyone agrees). "Plus, with all this leather fringe hanging off of you, you could fix anything with just a piece of fringe. It looks good--and it improves your self-sufficiency, too!"
The event draws participants from all parts of the country and occasionally from Canada and Europe, which is how the event assumed the "International" title. Since it’s just one crazy spectacle held during a whole weekend of snow stunts that make up Steamboat’s Winter Carnival, spectators can wander from the fur-trappers over to the adjacent chariot racing and still have time to catch cowboy ski-joring.
Yet for all the excitement, the International Muzzle Loading Biathlon remains one of Winter Carnival’s most colorful events. Set your sights on it: It’s a brush with history that blows museums away.
THE PARTING SHOT: To participate in the International Muzzle Loading Biathlon, contact Paul Yonekawa, 970/870-4530 or pyonekawa@coloradomtn.edu. For information on Winter Carnival events and lodging, visit the Steamboat Chamber at www.steamboatchamber.com or call 970/879-0882.
