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Nice Article, liftmech.
Lift Mechanic: The Carpet Convert
Friday, 12 August 2005
My first experience with conveyors wasn't good. It was 1995, I was a lift foreman at Crystal Mountain... by John Holm
My first experience with conveyors wasn't good. It was 1995, I was a lift foreman at Crystal Mountain, WA and we had just installed two loading carpets, one on our main access quad and one on a mid-mountain triple. They weren't fun.
The one on the quad had trouble syncing itself with the lift, and so would run at different speeds randomly. The one on the triple would freeze up, even with the heat left on and a tarp covering it at night. To top it off, skiers really had trouble with them. They would try to walk on them, as one would on a normal ramp. The motion of the carpet combined with skis sticking to the surface caused many a crash.
I had a larger gentleman actually break my big toe through my snowboard boot as he jumped off the carpet -- he thought the chair was going to hit him. He was probably right.
The triple was a bottom-tension setup; its carriage was quite dynamic and would sometimes move six to eight feet on a stop. Of course, the carpet underneath wouldn't move, so unsuspecting skiers would get clocked by the chair as it rocketed backwards.
We ended up burying the things under several inches of snow for most of the '96-'97 season. The summer of '97, Boyne bought Crystal and immediately removed both carpets. Of course, the triple was being removed too but that didn't stop us from cheering madly when we saw the helicopter flying overhead with the carpet slung underneath.
Several years ago, I arrived at Copper Mountain and saw not one, not two, but three carpets on my summer work list. We built a fourth one later that year. I prepared myself for the worst, but I was wrong.
Now, away from chairlift ramps, Magic Carpets, SunKids, and Kaser SkiCarpets are amazingly useful. Remember learning to ski on one of those antiquated rope tows, hanging on for dear life as the rope tried to lift your little self off the ground? Not any more. Carpets are easy to load, easy to unload, and best of all don't try to lift you off the ground or worse, cause you to fly backwards down the track as you lose your grip. The conveyor belt simply and quietly deposits you at the top of the learning slope, leaving you free to concentrate on the demanding task of "making pizza."
Carpets are pretty easy on the mechanic's mind, too. We don't have to spend a lot of time adjusting, inspecting, or repairing, and once you get the initial run-in period over with, they tend to function impeccably (but don't leave the heat off… or they become large, expensive Popsicles that won't move until direct sunlight hits them). That doesn't normally happen, though. In fact, carpets are pretty much a 'fix and forget' type of lift. I've found that I only need two tools for mine- a 15" Crescent wrench and a 4mm Allen key. Not bad.
Simplicity is the key to these lifts. For those not familiar with them, they're basically a set of drums on axles, with one end attached to a gearbox and the other to large screws or springs for tensioning. Some models have adjustable speeds, and all have some sort of heating system to prevent the aforementioned Popsicle effect from happening. SunKids have a belt made from interlocking plastic slats rather than the standard rubberized conveyor, but otherwise they function the same.
Sales have skyrocketed in the last several years, with some resorts buying several at a time. According to Magic Carpet's Jennifer Kelly, their lifts haven't changed much in the fifteen years since they were introduced. This makes them very easy to work with as once you've been inside one, the rest are pretty much the same.
Instructors love them. Copper has their children's area set up with two, and the instructors can stand in the middle of the slope and wander amongst their charges without having to assist them on the lift. Once they've made a few turns (or just gone straight down the hill -- my kids do, anyway) they can just walk up to the carpet and go back up.
On the old rope tows, or even on handle tows or platters, the slope was sufficiently long that classes would often have to wait for their slower members to catch up. Getting back up the lift took a fair bit of time as well.
Probably most important: everyday skiers enjoy them. I've spent a fair bit of time talking to guests when I do my weekly checkout. They all seem to like teaching their kids on one or using it to learn the sport themselves. One woman remembered her rope tow years fondly, but was glad her daughter didn't have to ride one. I watched the girl in question slide on, ride up, get off, and ski down several times during the conversation. She had no trouble learning the trick to getting on (wiggle your skis forward until the carpet snags them) or getting off.
My own daughter's experience has been similar. Of course, she always wants me to 'fix it' when it stops, but I suspect that's not an issue most parents have to deal with.
Learning carpets aren't completely without hassles, unfortunately. One of ours came with an underpowered heating unit in the drive, and would freeze constantly; this earned it the nickname 'Gelato' after the famous Italian frozen treat. After fighting with that and several tensioning issues on the other end, we replaced both drive and tension units with new models. Now the heaters are so efficient that I have to insulate the terminals to prevent them from melting the snow around them. You can't win for losing. This particular installation proved to be the exception to the smooth-operating carpet rule, though, and once we got the new tension unit dialed in it performed almost flawlessly.
And what about carpets in chairlift loading applications? I hear they work fine over in Europe. :::
Oh, I just realized that these articles are old, but were just recently put online. Here is another one...
The Invisible Man: Your Lift Mechanic
Wednesday, 08 June 2005
Being a lift mechanic is like being a welder, plumber, pipefitter, sledneck, electrician, lift operator, auto mechanic, and metallurgist all in one. Hi, I'm John. I'm a lift mechanic. I can't even say I'm a recovering one, because I've had opportunities to quit and I haven’t taken them. I started the way most lift monkeys do, as an operator. Actually, I started in the parking lot (Crystal Mountain) but that was only to kill time until I turned eighteen. Most state laws prohibit the operation of heavy machinery by minors, and chairlifts count as heavy machinery.
My first lift was an '88 Poma fixed quad. I worked the bottom until my boss saw that the carriers were almost knocking me over when I tried to bump them, so he moved me up top.
After my first winter operating lifts, it was odd, I realized I liked them. For the next three years I loaded skiers in the winter and tourists in the summer. Eventually I got bumped to night supervisor; this gave me time and tuition to go to college. After finishing up JC, I transferred to a four-year institution and changed mountains to Baker.
Once again, I began in the parking lot. This wasn't nearly as cool as it had been when I was fourteen; I was incredibly bored. Fortunately, Zop the lift supervisor took pity and let me help out in the shop. I built a great many Riblet sheaves that winter, and I also began to help out with some of the routine maintenance, like oil changes on the primary diesel engines and a few midwinter sheave swaps. After graduation, I found myself with a BA in Canadian History. And what could I do with that degree? I went full-time as a mechanic.
I worked on six Riblets and two Murray-Lattas. I trained lift operators and maintained phone systems. I sold burritos when the café was short-handed. I cleaned outhouses. I hauled injured skiers off the hill. I helped build a brand-new lift. I learned how to drive a snowcat. In between all these, I married and skied my brains out. The mountain manager Denny, his assistant Boyd, and Zop all were great sources of knowledge and direction, their combined experience being sixty years or so.
I’ve been here in Colorado for three years now. I drive a cool mountain sled and actually have less responsibility than I had at my last job. I have two primary lifts, an older Poma detachable and a brand-new carpet.
I’m part of a large resort with a huge amount of manpower, so I no longer have to sell burritos, and I can go home as soon as the lifts close - barring some 'oh-shit' events, of course.
Why do I keep doing this? Being a lift mechanic is like being a welder, plumber, pipefitter, sledneck, electrician, lift operator, auto mechanic, and metallurgist all in one. I get to work in the mountains and ski for free. I don’t have to commute with several thousand other people to a mindless office or factory job. I'm still helping people make their vacations enjoyable.
About the only other job I'd really want to do is ski patrol. They get to play with high explosives and ski all day. The problem with that career is the seasonal nature of it. I have a family to support and a house to pay for. Lift mechanics make less than comparable jobs in the city, but then you have to live in the city and I don't know that I could.
Sure, the weather can get brutal, but that comes with the territory. I've been out in wind-chill temps of -50 degrees Fahrenheit. I've worked until 12.30 a.m., putting an electric motor back in place. I've also gone to work, finished up my punchlist, and was back in the shop drinking beer as soon as five o'clock rolled around. The job is never boring.
And if we do our thing, and do it well, the skiing public never realizes we're here. That part is a bit odd but if they see us working, it's most likely because one of the lifts is broken down and we try like hell, every day, to keep that from happening.
It follows that if we're invisible, we're doing our job right. And I like being invisible.
This post has been edited by Skier: 22 August 2006 - 11:47 AM
