DIck Arkley and Ski to Sea

 For many of us KSCers who have been around a while, Memorial Day weekend means Ski to Sea, and for many Ski to Sea-ers, that means our own goofy Dick Arkley, a classic in every sense of the word. Scott Tucker, long-time member now skiing and racing out of Portland (and father of Montana Tucker, the overall women's winner at this winter's 30k Gunnar Hagen--the apple doesn't fall far!), sends us this gorgeous little history of Arkley and Ski to Sea. Thanks, Scott, for sharing these memories with us; I miss Arkley!

A Ski to Sea Anniversary and Memorial

By Scott Tucker

May 26, 2024

 

Today is the 51st running of the Bellingham Ski-to-Sea race. Those of us who have been around that long remember that it was established in 1973 as the first multisport relay of its kind, and it was a phenom!  A local phenom, that is, because it was just us yokels who thought it would be great to do a ski race at the end of May. The anniversary of the event reminds me of a memorial, the passing of Dick Arkley (7/23/41 – 8/2/22). For me, Dick’s memory is inextricably entwined with my first Sea to Sea race in 1979 on a mostly high school team named Hot Times. My experience in that race says so much about Dick.  It makes me chuckle to remember it.

 

Dick, or as we all referred to him at the time “Arkley”, was friendly and kind, and once I got beyond his swarthy complexion, wonderfully likable. I first met Arkley at the Kongsberger Ski Club in the '70s, where I was a young high school brat learning to ski from the Norwegian legends at the time. I was never sure whether Arkely’s swarthy complexion was natural, or if he was just grubby. He was a gardener by trade, and I was once told that he preferred to dig with his bare hands rather than use a shovel. One look at his fingernails confirmed it. Did he bathe? It was unclear. What was indisputable was that he wore the same clothes for gardening as for skiing, and I don’t think he ever washed them. You could see the grass stains! While the rest of us were dressing for skiing in Lycra onesies, Arkley raced in his red checked pants and grease stained parka.

 

Arkley grew up in Bellevue and went to Bellevue High. He was the middle child of three, a bit shorter and darker than his siblings, and absolutely one of the warmest kids in the group. This is according to my step-mother who went to school with him since they were 4-year-olds. He also had a “photographic memory”. If ever a friend wanted to know some date or who was who, “just ask Dick” and you would have your answer. I remember when he once recalled my past five finish times in the Gunnar Hagen 30k down to the minute. I think he could recall every finisher’s race time. I wanted to think he was cheating somehow, but he could just do that.

 

Of course, it wasn’t just his hygiene habits that were different; he had tics, would guffaw at odd moments, and had a rambling speech pattern interjected with giggles. And while some found it annoying in long doses, I just thought he was funny.

 

Arkley was not much of a XC skier. His technique was once described as running on skis with nails driven through them. But he had a motor that wouldn’t quit. In the mid ‘70s when the Ski to Sea race had a single ski leg involving boot packing up the chairlift line and then skiing down, Arkley established himself as king. He wore leather ski boots and his trademark checked pants, and held his skis in his hands like ski poles as he climbed. Ski to Sea was his ideal race: brute force and no elegance. It didn’t matter that he skied down in an awkward snow plow; he would gain so much time going up, even Ingemar Stenmark wouldn’t have caught him. 

 

Unfortunately for Arkley, that advantage all but disappeared in 1979 when they added an XC leg. For those who haven’t heard how the race was run back then: the alpine skier (that was Arkley’s leg) and the XC skier (carrying the team medallion) started at the same time. (Used the shotgun to start us back then, too.) The alpine skier would ski to the base of the lift and then hike up as before, but the XC skier would take off on a different route up one of the ski runs and then meet up at the summit to pass the medallion to the alpine skier. If the alpine skier got to the summit before the XC skier, they had to wait, and vice versa. In 1979, they didn’t recruit Olympians to the Sea to Ski; it was a PNW affair. I knew everyone who could ski XC that showed up for the race and I knew I could beat them up that hill. But would it matter?  Arkley was still king of the mountain and nobody really knew how long it would take to XC ski up vs. hike up. I did manage to ski up a few minutes faster than anyone else, and when I arrived, no alpine skiers were there yet. I waited….Argh! Why did I go so hard only to get here early?! Then, through the fog (I remember it being foggy, but it could be a foggy memory), I recognized the ungainly cadence of Arkley leading the train of skiers up the hill. He was ahead of my guy! But my teammate, Eric Albrecht, was a strong 2nd and we still got the first handoff. We also ended up winning the entire race that year. 15 seconds of fame!

 

In later years, I did a stint as the alpine skier for a team. I was nothing like Arkley. Had I been the alpine skier back in 1979, I’m sure I would have been far behind Arkley, because that event is a 20-minute lactic acid burn. It takes a certain demented pain tolerance to go at his pace.

 

Outside of our little KSC ski club, Arkley never got the recognition he deserved. I want to say, “Three cheers for the kindly old guy. You were king for a day!”. May we all find ways to be as endearing as Arkley.