Word: forester
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...Bill Koch, 24, who surprised the world with a silver medal in the 30-km cross-country four years ago at Innsbruck, surprised it again. With 8 km to go, Koch found himself back in 23rd position and, rather than finish exhausted, dropped out and skied off through the forest. He hoped to save energy for the 15-km event, but he ended up 16th as, in an astonishing finish, Sweden's Thomas Wassberg edged Finland's Juha Mieto by one-hundredth of a second...
...island is dominated by The Hills and The Quill, volcanic cones, now extinct. Climbing to the peak of The Quill (1,800 ft.) with a verdant rain forest in its crater is a not too strenuous 80-min. hike. An old Dutch command post, Fort Oranjestad, built on French foundations in 1636, is a neat little 16-cannon salute to colonial glories. This and several other of the island's 17 original forts are on a walking tour laid out by Statia's energetic historical foundation. One of the best beaches is on Tumble Down Dick Bay, apparently...
Memories are still vivid of the 1972 massacre of eleven Israeli athletes and coaches. A total of 750 New York State troopers-almost a quarter of the force-and a small army of FBI agents, Customs and Immigration cops, Border Patrolmen, state forest rangers and Secret Service men provide the protection for Olympic athletes and officials. Foreign secret police are also participating; Soviet KGB officials, for example, have been scouting the arrangements for months...
...rinks. Because of the tragedy at Munich in 1972, where eleven Israeli competitors and coaches died in the wake of an attack by Palestinian terrorists, security has been a paramount consideration. That meant building an Olympic Village seven miles from Lake Placid, accessible to vehicles only via a narrow forest road and surrounded by double chain-link fences 12 ft. high that send out an alarm at the slightest touch. With its narrow-windowed dormitories, the village bears an unfortunate resemblance to a prison; it will, indeed, become a minimum-security federal pen after the Games...
Schrader paces his film like a march through a rain forest, pausing every few yards to admire the "architecture" of Southern California. Each sequence begins with unnecessary shots of buildings, deck chairs and doorways, and enough driving to explain last summer's gas shortage. The movement of Schrader's camera is confused, boring in with a point of view, then halting to let the scene develop. It races past a row of Westwood parking meters trying vainly to create tension, and hacks its way through a Gere/Hutton sex sequence. In one nice touch, though, the Gigolo voices have a stupid...