When Ski Jumping Was the Rage

Remembering the Cathedral Ledge Jump

The thrill of victory...DA-denh denh denh...the agony of defeat. Just reciting that memorable "Wide World of Sports" introduction brings to mind images of a ski jumper hopelessly out of control, as he spins off a ramp into what must have been certain destruction.

Now picture Cathedral Ledge, west of North Conway. T-shirts in local climbing shops show cartoons of skiers, bombing vertically down the sheer face, bearing the logo "Ski Cathedral Ledge." For a short time a half-century ago, skiers were able to do just that, hard as it may be to believe today.

Skiers didn't actually ski from the top of the ledges, but they were able to en­joy a soaring view of Echo Lake by ski­ing off a ski jump that stood at the base of the ledges. No one is quite sure whatever happened to the jump, but those who remember the structure note it was the scene of many sporting events during its short span.

"They had winter carnivals over there, with a lot of good jumpers from the Nansen Ski Club of Berlin participating in the early '20s," said North Conway native and former ski jumper Barbara "Gram" (Sanphy) Howard, 77. Better known to locals today as one of the friendly waitresses at Faye's Dinette, Howard was a tomboyish, athletic-minded ski jumping fiend in her younger days. One of the first and only female ski jumpers in the state during her high school years, Howard did most of her jumping at a slope in Kearsarge off Old Bartlett Road. Like the Cathedral Ledge slope, that area has long since been reclaimed by the woods. Adept on the more tame Kearsarge slope, Howard says she always wanted to give the big jump at Cathedral a try, but her father wasn't too keen about the idea.

"I was his baby girl," she laughed, still as spry as women half her age, "and he never liked the idea of me going off the big jump over there on the West Side. I used to beat all the boys on our jump in Kearsarge, though," she added, "and they'd always ask me when I was going to do the big one, but Dad never let me."

Driving through a housing develop­ment that has sprung up at the base of Cathedral Ledge over the past 20 years, Howard located the site of the old ski jump this week while recalling some of the meets that used to take place there. "It was something else. They had some really good skiers here," she said.

The jump today is nothing more than a thinly-wooded funnel on the rock face, a V-shaped incline fanning down into the woods. "It's all grown in now," Howard noted, adding that the wooden supports of the old jump have long since rotted away.

Helen Nute, 89, another longtime North Conway native and local historian, was Gram Howard's ninth grade English teacher at the old North Conway High School at the time of the first North Con­way Winter Carnival. Held in February 1922, Nute recalls that one of the highlights of the carnival was ski jump­ing competition at the then newly built Cathedral Ledge jump.

"The jump was built by the North Con­way Outing Club, I believe, for the first winter carnival," Nute said, displaying a few vintage snapshots of the early competition. If you were able to ski the jump today, you'd end up on someone's roof, but back then, Nute said, the jump's lan­ding was in a field that was grown over with blueberries in summer.

Although an account in the Feb. 2, 1922, edition of the North Conway Reporter described the jump as "one of the finest ski jumps in America," Nute recalls that it was not without a few design deficiencies. The biggest problem was the landing area, she said. "What was wrong with the jump? It didn't work," said the former schoolteacher. "It just wasn't built properly. For a ski jump," she said, "you've got to have a big, steep slope for when you land, but the Cathedral Ledge landing area was almost flat. When skiers touched down, they just when kerplunk."

Most of the competitors participating in the winter carnival ski jump meet were out-of-towners from the Nansen Ski Club in Berlin, as skiing had yet to take hold of the local Conway populace in those days. Acording to the Reporter, more than 2000 people watched the skiers perform their magic, with Dr. Adolf Olsen of Portland, Maine, leading the skiers. A five-time Canadian national champion. Olsen captured first prize with a jump of 74 feet, never falling once. Engel Ander­son of the Nansen club was a close second with a jump of 76 feet, six inches after he was penalized 18 feet for a fall. He later broke the record for the course with an unofficial jump of 77 feet. History has not recorded if anyone ever broke Anderson's mark in the ensuing years.

Inspired by watching the Scandinavians from the Nansen club, a few local thrill seekers took to the slope. Included among the local group were George and Harry Thompson, and the Ashnault brothers—Ernest, Eddie, and Owen. Nute recalls wat­ching one of her more adventurous students, the late Raymond Eastman, make his way down the pitch in the winter of '22. "His wooden skis weren't really attached that well to his boots," Nute laughed, "and he almost came out of them as he went down the jump. He was a real daredevil."

Young Eastman also made his way in­to the Reporter's page one wrap-up story on that first winter carnival for his great horsemanship. Following a skating exhibi­tion by three former Olympians on the rink in Schouler Park (in the same loca­tion as it is today), Raymond and his brother, Clayton Eastman, gave an exhibi­tion of horseback riding which the writer noted "was greeted with a wave of en­thusiasm." Added another onlooker, "By Jove, young Eastman can ride a horse."

Almost as popular as the ski jumping was ski joring, something like water ski­ing, except that the skiers were pulled on snow by a horse. The winner, once again, was Raymond Eastman on his mount, "Starlight " with his partner, Engel Anderson of Berlin handling the skiing chores. They won the competition by covering the distance of one quarter mile in 25 seconds.

Other highlights of the carnival included tobogganing parties at Russell's cot­tages in Kearsarge, a carnival ball in the old Masonic Hall, masquerade balls on the skating rink, and an exhibition hockey game between two teams from Portland and Deering High (there apparently was no organized team from Conway in those days, but after the official game. a group of local lads challenged the winners to a match, and they won).

A rooster race was also held, although the writer noted the event would have been more exciting if the rooster had been placed ^-on the rink or in the street." Roads ere rolled in those years, not plowed, allowing dog sled enthusiasts to hold races down Main Street. Horse racing was also held on Main Street, as the snow-covered lane was turned into a trotting park for the carnival. The whole length was lined with spectators, while the horses pulled sulkies down the street. Among the top finishers was Northern Spy, long a favorite at the old North Conway racetrack. The horse was driven by Paul White (a.k.a. Napolean LeBlanc, grand­father of current Conway selectman Paul Ashnault).

The late Ernest Ashnault, Paul's father, won the second-place trophy in the Junior Ski Jumping Competition when the se­cond winter carnival was held in January 1923. Paul keeps the trophy at home now. but he hopes to donate it someday to the New England Ski Museum. While history has recorded that other North Conway Winter Carnivals were held—and indeed, the spirit lives on today in the Valley's annual Winterfest celebration, planned this year for Jan. 31 through Feb. 7—the old Cathedral Ledge ski jump is nothing more than a memory. Neither Howard nor Nute recall the last year it was in use, but veteran skier J. Arthur Doucette, 79, of Jackson recalls that it was no longer in place when he arrived for his first winter in the Valley in 1926.

"I heard stories of the jump," Doucette noted, "but it was no longer there when I got here in '26. And I'd remember it if I'd seen it," he said, "because I lived right across the street from it at the old Henry Hatch farm where I worked as a milkman."

Doucette went on to be one of the first local ski instructors, trained by Benno Rybizka and Hannes Schneider. He continues to ski and race today, but he never was a jumper, Nute participated in many of the snowshoe events in the first winter carnival, but she moved west to Colorado in 1923. When she returned, the jump was gone.

As for Howard, she says she skied from the time she was four, but gave up the sport once she got married at age 20 in 1929. "Sure I skied," said the spirited septuagenarian, "but once I got married things got a little busy raising eight kids."

Although she long ago gave up her boards, they say that learning to ski jump is like riding a bike--you never forget the sensation. Would she like to give it a try today, on modern equipment? "You bet," the 77-year-old grandmother noted, without skipping a beat.

Now that would be something for "Wide World of Sports" to capture on film!