The Storm Skiing Journal and Podcast (Stuart Winchester)

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Who

Jeremy Clark, Founder of New England Ski History and contributor to New England Ski Industry News

Recorded on

December 6, 2022

About New England Ski History

New England Ski History has two main components:

1) NewEnglandSkiHistory.com

This is HQ. Each New England state gets a landing page, which in turn links out to profiles of all its active ski areas, its major lost ski areas, and many planned-but-never built ski areas:

* Connecticut

* Maine

* Massachusetts

* New Hampshire

* Rhode Island

* Vermont

There are also pages devoted to expansions (both realized and cancelled), lifts (sorted by type, brand, or year installed or removed), and trailmaps. One of my favorite features is the inventory of historic lift ticket and season pass prices (select the drop-downs at the top to change the state or season).

The site, like its subject matter, is a little retro, but the information is, in general, very current. For New England podcast prep, this site is gold.

2) NewEnglandSkiIndustry.com

This is a news site, focused always and only on New England. The subject matter is expansive and often esoteric: updates on chairlift construction or obscure ski area re-openings – topics few other outlets would cover, but of clear interest to the typical Storm reader. I never send out a news update without checking this site for tidbits that I would otherwise miss. Clark recently launched a Substack newsletter that pushes these headlines right to your email inbox - subscribe below:

Why I interviewed him

There has been organized skiing in New England for at least 100 years. Rolling terrain, half-year-long winters, and population density made that inevitable. As soon as machines tiptoed their way into Earth’s timeline, New Englanders began flinging them up hillsides. Some stuck. Most didn’t. Today, New England skiing is a couple dozen monsters, a few dozen locals, and a scattering of surface-lift bumps where a lift ticket costs less than a pack of smokes.

As rich as this history is, there are few reliable sources of historical information on New England skiing. New England Lost Ski Areas Project has documented more than 600 lost ski areas across the region – the site’s founder, Jeremy Davis, was one of my first guests on The Storm Skiing Podcast back in 2019 (it’s still one of my favorite episodes). The New England Ski Museum has put together timelines on the development of lifts, snowmaking, grooming, and more. But current information on still-operating ski areas is hard to find outside of the ski area sites themselves, and even those are often unhelpful for anything more in-depth than pulling up the current trailmap.

New England Ski History hosts the best and most comprehensive library of information not just on the region’s major lost ski areas, but on the 90-ish active ones. One thing that has frustrated me in the internet age is how difficult it can be to find what should be the most basic information. What year did Jay Peak open? What is the vertical drop of Veterans Memorial ski hill in New Hampshire? Why did Mt. Tom, Massachusetts, close despite its popularity?

For the past 15 to 20 years, Jeremy Clark, who as a tech-brained 1990s teenager built Berkshire East’s first website, has been organizing all of this information in one place. The site is free for all, but it has been invaluable to me as a reliable information source on all things New England skiing. I never knew who ran it – unlike The Storm, there is no name adjacent to the masthead - until late last year, when I fired off an email to the anonymous address posted on the site. Clark answered right away, and here we are.

What we talked about

New England snowmaking superpowers; New England Ski History HQ; the rotation theory of skiing; unsung but interesting small ski areas; growing up at atmospheric and primitive Berkshire East; the power plant that changed weather in the entire valley; Roy Schaefer, savior of Berkshire East; building the ski area’s first website for $180 in the ‘90s; the annual continent-wide hunt for used equipment; the evolution of Berkshire East from backwater to four-seasons resort that’s a top-10 draw on the Indy Pass; the 100-year-old but little-known Eaglebrook ski area; Proctor Academy ski area; “I realized I’d be able to ski a lot more if I didn’t work in the ski business”; how and why Jeremy created New England Ski History; building the site’s tremendous ski area profiles; the value of showing up; the potential to scale the site up; assembling the jigsaw puzzle of a decades-long ski-area history; “the goal of the site is to get the history right”; sorting out Berkshire East’s complicated history; the role of the interstates in building New England skiing; keeping the site updated; New England Ski Industry News and its corresponding Substack newsletter; why Clark shut down the New England Ski History Facebook page, even though it had approximately 10,000 followers; lost ski areas; the devastating loss of Mt. Tom and why it will likely never return; the value of small ski areas; Brodie; “intermediate terrain is great for business”; the rise and fall of Ski Blandford; Woodbury, Connecticut and whether it could ever come back; assessing Saddleback two years in; the attempted comebacks of Granite Gorge and Tenney; what it would take to make The Balsams happen; what it takes to bring a lost ski area back from the dead; the drama at Big Squaw and whether the upper mountain will ever re-open; whether Big Squaw’s minimalist model would work to keep other lost ski areas alive; potential lost ski areas that could re-emerge from the dead; Mt. Prospect; the comeback potential of Plymouth Ski Area in Vermont; New England expansion plans; Ragged; the good and bad of multi-mountain passes; what skiing and smoking have in common; reaction to Pacific Group Resorts purchasing Jay Peak; Vail and New Hampshire – “I hope they’ve learned that New Hampshire is a lot different than Vermont”; and upgrades at Attitash.          

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

One of The Storm’s animating principles is the celebration of excellence. Who is doing things right in the ski world? Sometimes that’s Jay Peak and Whitefish middle-fingering astronomical big-mountain walk-up lift ticket prices. Sometimes that’s Alterra assembling the greatest ski area lineup in the history of multi-mountain passes. And sometimes it’s someone who has quietly built a damn good website that enriches the world of lift-served skiing in a way that no one else has managed to do. That’s why I’ve hosted the owners of Lift Blog, Real Skiers, and Seniors Skiing on the pod. And that’s why I invited Clark onto the show.

Industrialized skiing is evolving at an insane pace. It was just six years ago that Vail purchased its first New England ski area. At the time – 2017 – there was no Ikon Pass, no Alterra Mountain Company, no Indy Pass, no Covid, no eight-place chairlifts (in America). The more debris there is blowing around in the storm, the harder it can be to remember the world before it floated in. We all need centering mechanisms, places where we can draw context and anchor our understandings. For New England skiing – one of the most vibrant wintertime cultures on the planet – there is really no better or more comprehensive source than New England Ski History. As we all try to make sense of our ever-changing megapass-dominated ski world of 2023 together, I thought that it would be valuable to point out that the region’s past, at least, was already capably organized.

What I got wrong

* I said that I couldn’t think of any New England ski areas that remain under their original ownership, and Clark quickly pointed out that Pats Peak has been under the stewardship of the Patenaude family since it opened in 1962, which of course: I had just discussed that very point with Pats Peak GM Kris Blomback on the podcast a few months before.

* I said offhand that Killington and Sugarbush’s max 2022-23 lift tickets were in the $180 range, and that I would confirm those prices. Both are hitting closer to $200.

Podcast Notes

We discussed quite a few active-but-lesser-known ski areas on the podcast – I’ve linked to their New England Ski History profile pages below:

* Eaglebrook, a 440-vertical-footer in Massachusetts served by a double chair. This is the second-oldest ski area in the country, and serves the students at the private Eaglebrook School. I just love their trailmap:

* Proctor is another private-academy bump, a 436-footer in Andover, New Hampshire. This one has occasionally opened to the public in the past, but I haven’t been able to find any information on open ski days since the pandemic hit in 2020.

We talked a lot about Berkshire East, which Clark worked at for more than a decade:

* Clark referenced a cancelled but partially built expansion for the ski area in the 1970s – read the full history here.

* Clark designed Berkshire East’s first website. The earliest screenshot I could find was from April 18, 1998, and it’s a beauty:

We also discussed several lost ski areas, including:

* Chickley Alps, Massachusetts rose 300 vertical feet and operated from 1937 to 1979.

* Mt. Tom, Massachusetts, a fairly successful ski area whose sudden closing in 1998 is still a bit mystifying. This 680-vertical-foot ski area ran on four double chairs and a collection of surface lifts.

* Brodie, which the owners of neighboring Jiminy Peak bought and shuttered around the beginning of the century.

I asked Clark which lost ski areas had the best chance of a comeback:

* Monteau in northern New Hampshire, which rose 650 vertical feet and was served by a double chair and some surface lifts, and has been closed since 1990.

* Farr’s Hill, Vermont. This 160-foot bump has been closed since the 1960s. A couple years back, however, a new owner purchased a used T-bar from Oak Mountain, New York, with the intention of re-opening the ski area. I haven’t heard any updates in a while, and the ski area’s Facebook page is now inactive.

* Plymouth Notch/Roundtop/Bear Creek – this is the most recent lost chairlift-served ski area in Vermont. It operated as a private club as recently as 2018, and has a fairly extensive trail network. The problem? It’s sandwiched between Killington and Okemo.

Clark and I discussed the upcoming expansion plans at:

* Waterville Valley – the resort hopes to finally link the village to the ski area with a gondola up the back side of Green Peak:

* Sunday River, where the recently opened Jordan 8 chairlift will act as the gateway to the massive Western Reserve territory, which could double the size of the resort. Unfortunately, there are no renderings of the expansion to share yet.

* Sugarloaf – West Mountain, which is scheduled to open in early 2024 (I did a full write-up on this one a few weeks back):

We also discussed abandoned or suspended potential expansions at:

* Ragged Mountain – Pinnacle Peak, where the ski area cut trails years ago; owner Pacific Group Resorts confirmed to me last year that they do not intend to proceed with the expansion.

* Killington – the proposed but cancelled Parker’s Gore project would have added 1,500 acres with a sustained 3,000 foot vertical drop, served by up to 10 lifts.

* Cranmore – Black Cap, which would boost the ski area’s vertical drop from 1,200 to 1,800 feet.

* Bolton Valley, which was originally proposed as a far larger resort than the three-peak operation you can ski today. Clark said he found this masterplan, which shows chairlifts running all the way down to Interstate 89 – 1,800 feet below where the current Vista base area sits:

We discussed the Hall double chair that once acted as a redundant lift to the Attitash Summit Triple, which Peak Resorts removed without explanation around 2018. This turned out to be the worst possible decision, as the triple then conked out for months at the end of the 2018-19 ski season. Vail Resorts will finally replace the triple with a high-speed quad this summer, making the decision to remove the double moot. It’s the Top Notch Double on the map below:

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 7/100 in 2023, and number 393 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing all year round. Join us.

This podcast hit paid subscribers’ inboxes on Feb. 1. It dropped for free subscribers on Feb. 4. To receive future pods as soon as they’re live and to support independent ski journalism, please consider an upgrade to a paid subscription.

Who

Davy Ratchford, Vice President and General Manager of Snowbasin Resort, Utah

Recorded on

January 31, 2023

About Snowbasin

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: The R. Earl Holding Family

Pass affiliations: Ikon Pass, Mountain Collective

Located in: Huntsville, Utah

Year founded: 1940

Closest neighboring ski areas: Nordic Valley (30 minutes), Powder Mountain (35 minutes), Woodward Park City (1:05), Utah Olympic Park (1:08), Park City (1:15), Deer Valley (1:15), Snowbird (1:15), Alta (1:20), Solitude (1:20), Brighton (1:25), Sundance (1:40), Cherry Peak (1:45), Beaver Mountain (2:00) – travel times vary considerably based upon weather and traffic

Base elevation: 6,450 feet

Summit elevation: 9,350 feet

Vertical drop: 2,900 feet

Skiable Acres: 3,000

Average annual snowfall: 300 inches

Trail count: 111

Lift count: 12­­ (One 15-passenger tram, 2 eight-passenger gondolas, 2 six-packs, 2 high-speed quads, 2 triples, 1 ropetow, 2 carpets) – Snowbasin will add a third six-pack on an all-new line this summer (more on this below).

Why I interviewed him

For 60 years it sat there, empty, enormous, unnoticed. Utah skiing was Park City and Alta; Snowbird in the ‘70s; Deer Valley in the ‘80s; sometimes Solitude and Brighton. No need to ski outside that powder pocket east of SLC: in 1995, an Alta lift ticket cost $25, and the area resorts frequently landed on ski magazine “least-crowded” lists.

The November 2000 issue of Ski distilled Snowbasin’s malaise:

Though skiers were climbing the high ridgeline that overlooks the small city of Ogden as far back as the Thirties, Alta founder Alf Engen officially discovered Snowbasin in 1940. At that time the high, sunny basin was used for cattle range, but it was so overgrazed that eroded topsoil and bloated carcasses of dead cows were tainting Ogden’s water supply. Working with the U.S. Forest Service, Ogden’s town fathers decided that a ski resort would provide income and recreation while also safeguarding the water supply. A deal was struck with the ranch owner, and Snowbasin opened for business.

In the 60 years since, the resort has struggled under five owners, including Vail-founder Pete Seibert, who owned it in the mid-Eighties. The problem was a lack of lodging. Snowbasin was too far from Salt Lake City to attract out-of-state skiers and too far from Ogden to use the city’s aging railroad center as a resort base. Successive owners realized that to succeed, Snowbasin needed a base village, but building one from scratch is a costly proposition. So for half a century, the resort has remained the private powder stash of Ogden locals and the few lucky skiers who have followed rumors of deep snow and empty lifts up Ogden Canyon.

In 1984, Earl Holding, an oil tycoon who had owned Sun Valley since 1978, purchased the resort from Seibert (process the fact that Snowbasin was once part of the Vail portfolio for a moment). For a long time, nothing much changed. Then came the 2002 Olympics. In a single offseason in 1998, the resort added two gondolas, a tram, and a high-speed quad (John Paul), along with the thousand-ish-acre Strawberry terrain pod. A new access road cut 13 miles off the drive from Salt Lake City. Glimmering base lodges rose from the earth.

Still, Snowbasin languished. “But despite the recent addition of modern lifts, it has still failed to attract more than 100,000 skier visits the past two seasons,” Ski wrote in 2000, attributing this volume partly to “the fact that the Olympics, not today’s lift ticket revenue, is the management’s priority.” Holding, the magazine reported, was considering a bizarre name change for the resort to “Sun Valley.” As in, Sun Valley, Utah. Reminder: there was no social media in 2000.

That’s all context, to make this point: the Snowbasin that I’m writing about today – a glimmering end-of-the-road Ikon Pass jewel with a Jetsonian lift fleet – is not the Snowbasin we were destined to have. From backwater to baller in a generation. This is the template, like it or not, for the under-developed big-mountain West. Vail Mountain, Park City, Snowbird, Palisades Tahoe, Breckenridge, Steamboat: these places cannot accommodate a single additional skier. They’re full. The best they can do now is redistribute skiers across the mountain and suck more people out of the base areas with higher-capacity lifts. But with record skier visits and the accelerating popularity of multi-mountain passes that concentrate more of them in fewer places, we’re going to need relief valves. And soon.

There are plenty more potential Snowbasins out there. Mountains with big acreage and big snowfall but underdeveloped lift and lodging infrastructure and various tiers of accessibility issues: White Pass, Mission Ridge, Silver Mountain, Montana Snowbowl, Great Divide, Discovery, Ski Apache, Angel Fire, Ski Santa Fe, Powder Mountain, Sierra-at-Tahoe, Loveland. There are dozens more.

Snowbasin’s story is singular and remarkable, a testament to invested owners and the power of media magnification to alter the fate of a place. But the mountain’s tale is instructive as well, of how skiing can reorient itself around something other than our current version of snowy bunchball, the tendency for novice soccer players to disregard positions and swarm to wherever the ball moves. Snowbasin didn’t matter and now it does. Who’s next?

What we talked about

Utah’s amazing endless 2022-23 snow season; an Irish fairytale; skiing Beaver Mountain in jeans; helping to establish Utah’s Major League Soccer team and then leaving for the ski industry; “if you have a chance to raise your family in the mountains, you should do that”; the unique characteristic of a ski career that helps work-life balance; much love for the Vail Fam; the Holding family legacy; “Snowbasin is a gift to the world”; the family’s commitment to keeping Snowbasin independent long-term; “they’re going to put in the best possible things, all the time”; amazing lodges, bathrooms and all; Snowbasin’s Olympic legacy and potential future involvement in the Games; breaking down the DeMoisy Express six-pack that will go up Strawberry this summer; what the new lift will mean for the Strawberry gondola; soccer fans versus ski fans; managing a resort in the era of knucklehead social media megaphones; “I’ve lost a lot of employees to guests”; taming the rumor machine; reflecting on the Middle Bowl lift upgrade; long-term upgrades for the Becker and Porcupine triples; Snowbasin’s ambitious base-area redevelopment plan, including an all-inclusive Club Med, new lifts and terrain, and upgraded access road; “the amount of desire to own something here is huge”; what happens with parking once the mountain builds a village over it; the curse of easy access; breaking down the new beginner terrain and lifts that will accompany the village; whether future large-scale terrain expansion is possible; and leaving the Epic Pass for Ikon and Mountain Collective.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

Last month, Snowbasin announced that it will build the DeMoisy Express, a long-awaited six-pack that will run parallel to the Strawberry Gondola on a slightly shorter line, for the 2023-24 ski season. Here’s where it will sit on the current trailmap (highlighted below):

This will be Snowbasin’s second six-pack in just two years, and it follows the resort’s 2021 announcement of an ambitious base-area development plan, which will include new beginner terrain, several new lifts, a mixed-use pedestrian village, access-road improvements, and an all-inclusive Club Med resort. Here’s a rendering of the reconfigured base at full build-out:

Snowbasin, along with sister resort Sun Valley, also stalked off the Epic Pass last year, fleeing for the Mountain Collective and Ikon passes. “Because we’re smart,” Ratchford half-joked when I asked him why the resorts left Epic after just three years. He framed the switch as an opportunity to expose the resorts to new skiers. Snowbasin surely will not be the last resort to change allegiances. Don’t think big indies like Jackson Hole, Taos, and Revelstoke aren’t listening when Vail calls, offering them a blank check to change jerseys.

What I got wrong

I had an on-the-fly moment where I mixed up the Wildcat Express six-pack and the Littlecat Express high-speed quad. I asked Ratchford how they were going to upgrade Little Cat (as suggested in the base-area redevelopment image above), when it was already a six-pack. Dumb stuff happens in the moment during these podcasts, and while I guess I could ask the robots to fix it, I’d rather just own the mistake and keep moving.

Why you should ski Snowbasin

I love skiing Alta and Snowbird, but I don’t love skiing anywhere enough to endure the mass evacuation drill that is a Cottonwoods powder-day commute. Not when there’s a place like Snowbasin where you can just, you know, pull into the parking lot and go skiing.

What you’ll find when you arrive is as good as anything you’ll hunt down in U.S. skiing. Maybe not from a total snowfall perspective – though 300 inches is impressive anywhere outside of Utah – but from a lift-and-lodge infrastructure point of view. Four – soon to be five – high-speed chairlifts, a tram and two gondolas, and a couple old triple chairs that Ratchford tells me will be replaced fairly soon, and probably with high-speed quads. The lodges are legendary, palaces of excess and overbuild, welcome in an industry that makes Lunch-Table Death-Match a core piece of the experience. If you need to take your pet elephant to the bathroom, plug Snowbasin into your GPS – I assure you the stalls can accommodate them.

But, really, you ski Snowbasin because Snowbasin is easy to get to and easy to access, with the Ikon Pass that most people reading this probably already have, and with terrain that’s as good as just about anything else you’re going to find in U.S. America.

Podcast Notes

On Park City: Ratchford referred obliquely to the ownership change at Park City in 2014, saying, “if you know the history there…” Well, if you don’t know the history there, longtime resort owner Powdr Corp made the biggest oopsie in the history of lift-served skiing when it, you know, forgot to renew its lease on the mountain. Vail, in what was the most coldblooded move in the history of lift-served skiing, installed itself as the new lessee in what I can imagine was a fit of cackling glee. It was amazing. You can read more about it here and here. If only The Storm had existed back then.

On the Olympics: While I don’t cover the Olympics at all (I completely ignored them last year, the first Winter Games in which The Storm existed), I do find their legacy at U.S. ski resorts interesting. Only five U.S. ski areas have hosted events: Whiteface (1980), Palisades Tahoe (1960), and, in 2002, Deer Valley, Park City, and Snowbasin. Ratchford and I talk a bit about this legacy, and the potential role of his resort in the upcoming 2030 or 2034 Games – Salt Lake City is bidding to host one or the other. Read more here.

On megapasses: Snowbasin has been all over the place with megapasses. Here’s its history, as best I can determine:

* 2013: Snowbasin joins the Powder Alliance reciprocal coalition (it is unclear when Snowbasin left this coalition)

* 2017: Snowbasin joins Mountain Collective for 2017-18 ski season

* 2019: Snowbasin joins Epic Pass, leaves Mountain Collective for 2019-20 ski season

* 2022: Snowbasin leaves Epic Pass, re-joins Mountain Collective and joins Ikon Pass for 2022-23 ski season

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 8/100 in 2023, and number 394 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

This podcast hit paid subscribers’ inboxes on Feb. 3. It dropped for free subscribers on Feb. 6. To receive future pods as soon as they’re live and to support independent ski journalism, please consider an upgrade to a paid subscription.

Who

Brett Cook, Vice President and General Manager of Seven Springs, Hidden Valley, and Laurel Mountain, Pennsylvania

Recorded on

January 30, 2023

About Seven Springs

Owned by: Vail Resorts

Pass affiliations: Epic Pass, Epic Local Pass, Northeast Value Epic Pass, Northeast Midweek Epic Pass

Located in: Seven Springs, Pennsylvania

Year opened: 1932

Closest neighboring ski areas: Hidden Valley (17 minutes), Laurel Mountain (45 minutes), Nemacolin (46 minutes), Boyce Park (1 hour), Wisp (1 hour), Blue Knob (1 hour, 30 minutes)

Base elevation: 2,240 feet

Summit elevation: 2,994 feet

Vertical drop: 754 feet

Skiable Acres: 285

Average annual snowfall: 135 inches

Trail count: 48 (5 expert, 6 advanced, 15 intermediate, 16 beginner, 6 terrain parks)

Lift count: 14­­ (2 six-packs, 4 fixed-grip quads, 4 triples, 3 carpets, 1 ropetow)

About Hidden Valley

Owned by: Vail Resorts

Pass affiliations: Epic Pass, Epic Local Pass, Northeast Value Epic Pass, Northeast Midweek Epic Pass

Located in: Hidden Valley, Pennsylvania

Year opened: 1955

Closest neighboring ski areas: Seven Springs (17 minutes), Laurel Mountain (34 minutes), Mystic Mountain (50 minutes), Boyce Park (54 minutes),Wisp (1 hour), Blue Knob (1 hour 19 minutes)

Base elevation: 2,405 feet

Summit elevation: 2,875 feet

Vertical drop: 470 feet

Skiable Acres: 110

Average annual snowfall: 140 inches

Trail count: 32 (9 advanced, 13 intermediate, 8 beginner, 2 terrain parks)

Lift count: 8 (2 fixed-grip quads, 2 triples, 2 carpets, 2 handle tows)

About Laurel Mountain

Owned by: Vail Resorts

Pass affiliations: Epic Pass, Epic Local Pass, Northeast Value Epic Pass, Northeast Midweek Epic Pass

Located in: Boswell, Pennsylvania

Year opened: 1939

Closest neighboring ski areas: Hidden Valley (34 minutes), Seven Springs (45 minutes), Boyce Park (1 hour), Blue Knob (1 hour), Mystic Mountain (1 hour, 15 minutes), Wisp (1 hour, 15 minutes)

Base elevation: 2,005 feet

Summit elevation: 2,766 feet

Vertical drop: 761 feet

Skiable Acres: 70

Average annual snowfall: 41 inches

Trail count: 20 (2 expert, 2 advanced, 6 intermediate, 10 beginner)

Lift count: 2­­ (1 fixed-grip quad, 1 handle tow)

Below the paid subscriber jump: a summary of our podcast conversation, a look at abandoned Hidden Valley expansions, historic Laurel Mountain lift configurations, and much more.

Beginning with podcast 116, the full podcast articles are no longer available on the free content tier. Why? They take between 10 and 20 hours to research and write, and readers have demonstrated that they are willing to pay for content. My current focus with The Storm is to create value for anyone who invests their money into the product. Here are examples of a few past podcast articles, if you would like to see the format: Vail Mountain, Mt. Spokane, Snowbasin, Mount Bohemia, Brundage. To anyone who is supporting The Storm: thank you very much. You have guaranteed that this is a sustainable enterprise for the indefinite future.

Why I interviewed him

I’ve said this before, but it’s worth repeating. Most Vail ski areas fall into one of two categories: the kind skiers will fly around the world for, and the kind skiers won’t drive more than 15 minutes for. Whistler, Park City, Heavenly fall into the first category. Mt. Brighton, Alpine Valley, Paoli Peaks into the latter. I exaggerate a bit on the margins, but when I drive from New York City to Liberty Mountain, I know this is not a well-trod path.

Seven Springs, like Hunter or Attitash, occupies a slightly different category in the Vail empire. It is both a regional destination and a high-volume big-mountain feeder. Skiers will make a weekend of these places, from Pittsburgh or New York City or Boston, then they will use the pass to vacation in Colorado. It’s a better sort of skiing than your suburban knolls, more sprawling and interesting, more repeatable for someone who doesn’t know what a Corky Flipdoodle 560 is.

“Brah that sounds sick!”

Thanks Park Brah. I appreciate you. But you know I just made that up, right?

“Brah have you seen my shoulder-mounted Boombox 5000 backpack speaker? I left it right here beside my weed vitamins.”

Sorry Brah. I have not.

Anyway, I happen to believe that these sorts of in-the-middle resorts are the next great frontier of ski area consolidation. All the big mountains have either folded under the Big Four umbrella or have gained so much megapass negotiating power that the incentive to sell has rapidly evaporated. The city-adjacent bumps such as Boston Mills were a novel and highly effective strategy for roping cityfolk into Epic Passes, but as pure ski areas, those places just are not and never will be terribly compelling experiences. But the middle is huge and mostly untapped, and these are some of the best ski areas in America, mountains that are large enough to give you a different experience each time but contained enough that you don’t feel as though you’ve just wandered into an alternate dimension. There’s enough good terrain to inspire loyalty and repeat visits, but it’s not so good that passholders don’t dream of the hills beyond.

Examples: Timberline, West Virginia; Big Powderhorn, Michigan; Berkshire East and Jiminy Peak in Massachusetts; Plattekill, New York; Elk Mountain, Pennsylvania; Mt. Spokane, Washington; Bear Valley, California; Cascade or Whitecap, Wisconsin; Magic Mountain, Vermont; or Black Mountain, New Hampshire. There are dozens more. Vail’s Midwestern portfolio is expansive but bland, day-ski bumps but no weekend-type spots on the level of Crystal Mountain, Michigan or Lutsen, Minnesota.

If you want to understand the efficacy of this strategy, the Indy Pass was built on it. Ninety percent of its roster is the sorts of mountains I’m referring to above. Jay Peak and Powder Mountain sell passes, but dang it Bluewood and Shanty Creek are kind of nice now that the pass nudged me toward them. Once Vail and Alterra realize how crucial these middle mountains are to filling in the pass blanks, expect them to start competing for the space. Seven Springs, I believe, is a test case in how impactful a regional destination can be both in pulling skiers in and pushing them out across the world. Once this thing gels, look the hell out.

What we talked about

The not-so-great Western Pennsylvania winter so far; discovering skiing as an adult; from liftie to running the largest ski resort in Pennsylvania; the life and death of Snow Time Resorts; joining the Peak Pass; two ownership transitions in less than a year, followed by Covid; PA ski culture; why the state matters to Vail; helping a Colorado ski company understand the existential urgency of snowmaking in the East; why Vail doubled down on PA with the Seven Springs purchase when they already owned five ski areas in the state; breaking down the difference between the Roundtop-Liberty-Whitetail trio and the Seven-Springs-Hidden-Valley-Laurel trio; the cruise ship in the mountains; rugged and beautiful Western PA; dissecting the amazing outsized snowfall totals in Western Pennsylvania; Vail Resorts’ habit of promoting from within; how Vail’s $20-an-hour minimum wage hit in Pennsylvania; the legacy of the Nutting family, the immediate past owners of the three ski areas; the legendary Herman Dupree, founder of Seven Springs and HKD snowguns; Seven Springs amazing sprawling snowmaking system, complete with 49(!) ponds; why the system isn’t automated and whether it ever will be; how planting more trees could change the way Seven Springs skis; connecting the ski area’s far-flung beginner terrain; where we could see additional glades at Seven Springs; rethinking the lift fleet; the importance of redundant lifts; do we still need Tyrol?; why Seven Springs, Hidden Valley, and Laurel share a single general manager; thinking of lifts long-term at Hidden Valley; Hidden Valley’s abandoned expansion plans and whether they could ever be revived; the long and troubled history of state-owned Laurel Mountain; keeping the character at this funky little upside-down boomer; “We love what Laurel Mountain is and we’re going to continue to own that”; building out Laurel’s snowmaking system; expansion potential at Laurel; “Laurel is a hidden gem and we don’t want it to be hidden anymore”; Laurel’s hidden handletow; evolving Laurel’s lift fleet; managing a state-owned ski area; Seven Springs’ new trailmap; the Epic Pass arrives; and this season’s lift-ticket limits.        

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

When Vail bought Peak Resorts in 2019, they suddenly owned nearly a quarter of Pennsylvania’s ski areas: Big Boulder, Jack Frost, Whitetail, Roundtop, and Liberty. That’s a lot of Eagles jerseys. And enough, I thought, that we wouldn’t see VR snooping around for more PA treasures to add to their toybox.

Then, to my surprise, the company bought Seven Springs – which they clearly wanted – along with Hidden Valley and Laurel, which they probably didn’t, in late 2021. Really what they bought was Pittsburgh, metropolitan population 2.3 million, and their large professional class of potentially globe-trotting skiers. All these folks needed was an excuse to buy an Epic Pass. Vail gave them one.

So now what? Vail knows what to do with a large, regionally dominant ski area like Seven Springs. It’s basically Pennsylvania’s version of Stowe or Park City or Heavenly. It was pretty good when you bought it, now you just have to not ruin it and remind everyone that they can now ski Whistler on their season pass. Hidden Valley, with its hundreds of on-mountain homeowners, suburban-demographic profile, and family orientation more or less fit Vail’s portfolio too.

But what to do with Laurel? Multiple locals assured me that Vail would close it. Vail doesn’t do that – close ski areas – but they also don’t buy 761-vertical-foot bumps at the ass-end of nowhere with almost zero built-in customer base and the snowmaking firepower of a North Pole souvenir snowglobe. They got it because it came with Seven Springs, like your really great spouse who came with a dad who thinks lawnmowers are an FBI conspiracy. I know what I think Vail should do with Laurel – dump money into the joint to aggressively route crowds away from the larger ski areas – but I didn’t know whether they would, or had even considered it.

Vail’s had 14 months now to think this over. What are these mountains? How do they fit? What are we going to do with them? I got some answers.

Questions I wish I’d asked

You know, it’s weird that Vail has two Hidden Valleys. Boyne, just last year, changed the name of its “Boyne Highlands” resort to “The Highlands,” partly because, one company executive told me, skiers would occasionally show up to the wrong resort with a condo reservation. I imagine that’s why Earl Holding ultimately backed off on renaming Snowbasin to “Sun Valley, Utah,” as he reportedly considered doing in the leadup to the 2002 Olympics – if you give people an easy way to confuse themselves, they will generally take you up on it.

I realize this is not really the same thing. Boyne Mountain and The Highlands are 40 minutes apart. Vail’s two Hidden Valleys are 10-and-a-half hours from each other by car. Still. I wanted to ask Cook if this weird fact had any hilarious unintended consequences (I desperately wish Holding would have renamed Snowbasin). Perhaps confusion in the Epic Mix app? Or someone purchasing lift tickets for the incorrect resort? An adult lift ticket at Hidden Valley, Pennsylvania for tomorrow is $75 online and $80 in person, but just $59 online/$65 in person for Hidden Valley, Missouri. Surely someone has confused the two?

So, which one should we rename? And what should we call it? Vail has been trying to win points lately with lift names that honor local landmarks – they named their five new lifts at Jack Frost-Big Boulder “Paradise,” “Tobyhanna,” “Pocono,” “Harmony,” and “Blue Heron” (formerly E1 Lift, E2 Lift, B Lift, C Lift, E Lift, F Lift, Merry Widow I, Merry Widow II, and Edelweiss). So how about renaming Hidden Valley PA to something like “Allegheny Forest?” Or call Hidden Valley, Missouri “Mississippi Mountain?” Yes, both of those names are terrible, but so is having two Hidden Valleys in the same company.

What I got wrong

* I guessed in the podcast that Pennsylvania was the “fifth- or sixth-largest U.S. state by population.” It is number five, with an approximate population of 13 million, behind New York (19.6M), Florida (22.2M), Texas (30M), and California (39M).

* I guessed that the base of Keystone is “nine or 10,000 feet.” The River Run base area sits at 9,280 feet.

* I mispronounced the last name of Seven Springs founder Herman Dupre as “Doo-Pree.” It is pronounced “Doo-Prey.”

* I said there were “lots” of thousand-vertical-foot ski areas in Pennsylvania. There are, in fact, just four: Blue Mountain (1,140 feet), Blue Knob (1,073 feet), Elk (1,000 feet), and Montage (1,000 feet).

Why you should ski Seven Springs, Hidden Valley, and Laurel

It’s rugged country out there. Not what you’re thinking. More Appalachian crag than Poconos scratch. Abrupt and soaring. Beautiful. And snowy. In a state where 23 of 28 ski areas average fewer than 50 inches of snow per season, Seven Springs and Laurel bring in 135-plus apiece.

Elevation explains it. A 2,000-plus-foot base is big-time in the East. Killington sits at 1,165 feet. Sugarloaf at 1,417. Stowe at 1,559. All three ski areas sit along the crest of 70-mile-long Laurel Ridge, a storm door on the western edge of the Allegheny Front that rakes southeast-bound moisture from the sky as it trains out of Lake Erie.

When the snow doesn’t come, they make it. Now that Big Boulder has given up, Seven Springs is typically the first ski area in the state to open. It fights with Camelback for last-to-close. Twelve hundred snowguns and 49 snowmaking ponds help.

Seven Springs doesn’t have the state’s best pure ski terrain – look to Elk Mountain or, on the rare occasions it’s fully open, Blue Knob for that – but it’s Pennsylvania’s largest, most complete, and, perhaps, most consistent operation. It is, in fact, the biggest ski area in the Mid-Atlantic, a ripping and unpretentious ski region where you know you’ll get turns no matter how atrocious the weather gets.

Hidden Valley is something different. Cozy. Easy. Built for families on parade. Laurel is something different too. Steep and fierce, a one-lift wonder dug out of the graveyard by an owner with more passion, it seems, than foresight. Laurel needs snowmaking. Top to bottom and on every trail. The hill makes no sense in 2023 without it. Vail won’t abandon the place outright, but if they don’t knock $10 million in snowmaking into the dirt, they’ll be abandoning it in principle.

Podcast Notes

The trailmap rabbit hole – Hidden Valley

We discussed the proposed-but-never-implemented expansion at Hidden Valley, which would have sat skier’s right of the Avalanche pod. Here it is on the 2010 trailmap:

The 2002 version actually showed three potential lifts serving this pod:

Unfortunately, this expansion is unlikely. Cook explains why in the pod.

The trailmap rabbit hole – Laurel

Laurel, which currently has just one quad and a handletow, has carried a number of lift configurations over the decades. This circa 1981 trailmap shows a double chair where the quad now sits, and a series of surface lifts climbing the Broadway side of the hill, and another set of them bunched at the summit:

The 2002 version shows a second chairlift – which I believe was a quad – looker’s right, and surface lifts up top to serve beginners, tubers, and the terrain park:

Related: here’s a pretty good history of all three ski areas, from 2014.

The Pennsylvania ski inventory rabbithole

Pennsylvania skiing is hard to get. No one seems to know how many ski areas the state has. The NSAA says there are 26. Cook referenced 24 on the podcast. The 17 that Wikipedia inventories include Alpine Mountain, which has been shuttered for years. Ski Central (22), Visit PA (21), and Ski Resort Info (25) all list different numbers. My count is 28. Most lists neglect to include the six private ski areas that are owned by homeowners’ associations or reserved for resort guests. Cook and I also discussed which ski area owned the state’s highest elevation (it’s Blue Knob), so I included base and summit elevations as well:

The why-is-Vail-allowed-to-own-80-percent-of-Ohio’s-public-ski-areas? rabbithole

Cook said he wasn’t sure how many ski areas there are in Ohio. There are six. One is a private club. Snow Trails is family-owned. Vail owns the other four. I think this shouldn’t be allowed, especially after how poorly Vail managed them last season, and especially how badly Snow Trails stomped them from an operations point of view. But here we are:

The steepest-trail rabbithole

We discuss Laurel’s Wildcat trail, which the ski area bills as the steepest in the state. I generally avoid echoing these sorts of claims, which are hard to prove and not super relevant to the actual ski experience. You’ll rarely see skiers lapping runs like Rumor at Gore or White Lightning at Montage, mostly because they frankly just aren’t that much fun, exercises in ice-rink survival skiing for the Brobot armies. But if you want the best primer I’ve seen on this subject, along with an inventory of some very steep U.S. ski trails, read this one on Skibum.net. The article doesn’t mention Laurel’s Wildcat trail, but the ski area was closed sporadically and this site’s heyday was about a decade ago, so it may have been left out as a matter of circumstance.

The “back in my day” rabbithole

I referenced an old “punchcard program” at Roundtop during our conversation. I was referring to the Night Club Program offered by former-former owner Snow Time Resorts at Roundtop, Liberty, and Whitetail. When Snow Time sold the ski area in 2018 to Peak Resorts, the buyer promptly dropped the evening programs. When Vail purchased the resort in 2019, it briefly re-instated some version of them (I think), but I don’t believe they survived the Covid winter (2020-21). This 5,000-word March 2019 article (written four months before Vail purchased the resorts) from DC Ski distills the rage around this abrupt pass policy change. Four years later, I still get emails about this, and not infrequently. I’m kind of surprised Vail hasn’t offered some kind of Pennsylvania-specific pass, since they have more ski areas in that state (eight) than they have in any other, including Colorado (five). After all, the company sells an Ohio-specific pass that started at just $299 last season. Why not a PA-specific version for, say, $399, for people who want to ski always and only at Roundtop or Liberty or Big Boulder? Or a nights-only pass?

I suppose Vail could do this, and I suspect they won’t. The Northeast Value Pass – good for mostly unlimited access at all of the company’s ski areas from Michigan on east – sold for $514 last spring. A midweek version ran $385. A seven-day Epic Day Pass good at all the Pennsylvania ski areas was just $260 for adults and $132 for kids aged 5 to 12. I understand that there is a particular demographic of skiers who will never ski north of Harrisburg and will never stop blowing up message boards with their disappointment and rage over this. The line between a sympathetic character and a tedious one is thin, however, and eventually we’re all better off focusing our energies on the things we can control.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 9/100 in 2023, and number 395 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

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Who

Dennis Eshbaugh, President and General Manager of Holiday Valley, New York

Recorded on

February 13, 2023

About Holiday Valley

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Win-Sum Ski Corp, which Holiday Valley’s website describes as “a closely held corporation owned by a small number of stockholders.”

Year founded: 1958

Pass affiliations: None

Located in: Ellicottville, New York

Closest neighboring ski areas: Holimont (3 minutes), Kissing Bridge (38 minutes), Cockaigne (45 minutes), Buffalo Ski Center (48 minutes), Swain (1 hour, 15 minutes), Peek’N Peak (1 hour, 15 minutes)

Base elevation: 1,500 feet

Summit elevation: 2,250 feet

Vertical drop: 750 feet

Skiable Acres: 290

Average annual snowfall: 180 inches

Trail count: 84 (4 glades, 1 expert, 21 advanced, 21 intermediate, 32 beginner, 5 terrain parks) – the official glade number is a massive undercount, as nearly all of the trees at Holiday Valley are well-spaced and skiable (the trailmap below notes that “woods are available to expert skiers and riders and are not open, closed, or marked”).

Lift count: 13­­ (4 high-speed quads, 7 fixed-grip quads, 2 surface lifts) – a high-speed six-pack will replace the Mardis Gras high-speed quad this sumer.

Uphill capacity: 23,850 people per hour

Why I interviewed him

Western New York is one of the most important ski markets in America. Orbiting a vast wilderness zone of hilly lake-effect are the cities of Syracuse, Rochester, Buffalo, Cleveland, and, farther out but still relevant to the market, Pittsburgh. That’s more than 20 million people, as Eshbaugh notes in our conversation. They all need somewhere to ski. They don’t have big mountains, but they do have options. In Western New York alone: Peek’n Peak, Cockaigne, Kissing Bridge, Buffalo Ski Club, Bristol, Hunt Hollow, Swain, Holiday Valley, Holimont, and a half-dozen-ish surface-lift outfits hyper-focused on beginners.

It’s one of the world’s great new-skier factories. Skiers learn here and voyage to the Great Out There. From these metro regions, skiers can get anywhere else quickly. At least four daily flights connect Cleveland and Denver – you can leave your house in the evening and catch first chair at Keystone or Copper the following morning. But sometimes local is good, especially when you start stacking kids in the backseat and your airplane bill ticks past four digits.

Set the GPS for Holiday Valley. In a region of ski areas, this is a ski resort. The terrain is varied and expansive. Downtown Ellicottville, a Rust Belt industrial refugee that has remade itself as one of the East’s great resort towns, is minutes away. The mountain is easy enough to get to (in the way that anything off-interstate is an easy-ish pain in the ass requiring some patience with two-lane state highways and their poke-along drivers). And lift tickets are affordable, topping out at $87 for an eight-hour session.

As a business, Holiday Valley is one of the most well-regarded independent ski areas in the country, on the level of Wachusett or Whitefish or Smugglers’ Notch. But it wasn’t the inevitable King of Western New York. When Eshbaugh showed up in 1975, the place was a backwater, with a handful of double chairs and T-bars and a couple dozen runs. It took decades to build the machine. But for at least the past 20 years, Holiday Valley has led all New York ski areas in annual visits, keeping company with New England monsters Mount Snow and Sunday River at around half a million skiers per season. That’s incredible. I wanted to learn how they did it, and how they keep doing it, even as the ski world evolves rapidly around them.

What we talked about

The wild Western New York winter; what’s driving record business to Holiday Valley; the busiest ski area in New York State; learning from Sam Walton in the best possible way; competing with Colorado; the history and remaking of Ellicotville; from ski school instructor to resort president; staying at one employer for nearly five decades; who owns Holiday Valley and how committed they are to independence; a brief history of the ski area; setting season pass prices at $1,000 in the megapass era – “we have 10,000 buyers of these other pass programs as well”; the importance of night-skiing; the bygone days of skiing all-nighters; why Holiday Valley hasn’t joined the Epic, Ikon, or Indy Passes, and whether it ever would; thoughts on reciprocal coalitions and why the Ski Cooper partnership went away; a picture of Holiday Valley in the mid-1970s; the landmine of too much real-estate development; going deep on the new Mardi Gras Express six-pack; why they’re building the lift over two years; how and why Holiday Valley self-installs chairlifts (one of the few ski areas to do so); remembering 20-minute double-chair rides on Mardi Gras; the surprising potential destination of the Mardi Gras quad; long-term potential upgrades for Sunrise, Eagle, Cindy’s, and Chute; the next lift that Holiday Valley will likely upgrade to a detachable; why Holiday Valley upgraded the 20-year-old Yodeler fixed-grip quad to a detachable quad two years ago; how much more it costs to maintain a detachable lift than a fixed-grip lift, and whether Holiday Valley could one day get to an all-high-speed fleet; “you have to keep a balance between what your customer base wants and what your customer base can support”; Dave McCoy’s thumbprint on Mammoth Mountain; potential expansion opportunities; where the next all-new liftline could sit; potential glade expansion; remembering when insurance carriers were paranoid of glade-skiing and why they backed off that notion; and why Holiday Valley implemented RFID but didn’t install gates.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

Holiday Valley is one of the few large regional destination ski areas that continues to stand alone. No pass allegiance. No reciprocal deals. The pass is good here and only here.

And it works. Like Wolf Creek or Baker or Mount Rose or Smugglers’ Notch or Bretton Woods, Holiday Valley is proving that the one-mountain model isn’t dead just yet. Even with a headliner season pass that runs $1,049*, just $30 cheaper than the good-at-63-mountains Ikon Pass and a couple hundred dollars more than the equally expansive Epic Pass. Many of the mountain’s passholders do also purchase these passes, Eshbaugh told me, but they keep buying the Holiday Valley Pass too.

Why? My guess is the constant, conspicuous investment. A new high-speed quad to replace a 20-year-old fixed-grip quad in 2021. Holiday Valley’s first six-pack – to replace a 27-year-old high-speed quad – next season. And the place is pristine. Everything looks new, even if it isn’t. The lodges – and it feels like there are lodges everywhere – are expansive and attractive. Snowguns all over. I haven’t walked around the joint opening closet doors or anything, but I bet it I did, I’d find the towels sorted by color and shelves labelled accordingly.

In the era of sprawling and standardized, there is still a lot to like in this hyper-local approach to ski resort management. Eshbaugh is in no hurry to chase his peers over the horizon. He admits there may be vast treasure and security waiting there, but there may also be a bottomless void. Holiday Valley and its eclectic and somewhat secretive group of owners will wait and see. In the meantime, we may as well enjoy the place for what it is.

*Holiday Valley offered several more affordable pass options for the 2022-23 ski season, including a nights-only version for $504, a Sundays pass for $313, a pass good for 10 weekdays or evenings for $285, and a nine-use night pass for $213.

Questions I wish I’d asked

I’d wanted to get a bit into Holimont, and ask my usual stupid question about whether the two resorts had ever discussed some sort of lift or ski connection. From a pure engineering standpoint, it wouldn’t be an especially difficult project: the hill that rises from the far side of the Holiday Valley parking lot is the backside of Holimont. You would just need trails down from the top of Holimont’s Exhibition Express or Sunset double to the bottom of Holiday Valley’s Tannenbaum lift, then a return lift up the mountain to Holimont. Here’s a crappy concept sketch I put together:

Of course, there are problems with my elaborate plans, starting with the fact that I have no idea who owns the property that I just designated for new trails and chairlifts. The bigger issue, however, is that Holimont is a private ski club, and it’s closed to the public on weekends and holidays. That won’t change. But if you’re curious, you can roll up and buy a lift ticket midweek, which is pretty cool. The place is substantial, with 56 trails and eight lifts, including a high-speed quad:

A union of these two ski areas seems highly improbable. But it would create an enormous ski area, and it was fun to fantasize about for a few minutes.

Why you should ski Holiday Valley

Holiday Valley skis far larger than the trailmap would suggest. Rolling from Spruce Lake over to Snowpine can take all morning. There’s lots of little offshoots, quirks and nooks to explore. Glades everywhere. Lifts everywhere. Most runs are substantially shorter than the advertised 750 vertical feet, but they cling to the fall line, and there are a lot of them: 84 trails feels like an undercount.

I said in the podcast that Holiday Valley felt like a half dozen or so ski areas stitched together, and it does. Creekside and Sunrise feel like that town bump, with gentle wide-open meadows. Morningstar is big broadsides, park kids and a speedy lift. Yodeler and Chute are raw and steep, tight glades between groomed-out boomers. Eagle is restless and wild and underdeveloped. And Tannenbaum is a sort-of idyll, a rich glen dense with towering pines, a detachable lift line threading low and fast through the trees.

It’s just a very good ski area, with everything except a headline vertical drop. But the sprawling lift system makes fastlaps easy, and if the snow is deep, pretty much all the trees between the trails are skiable. The place is likely to wear you out before you wear it out, and then you can head down the street for a beer and a pillow.

Podcast Notes

On operating hours

I guessed on the podcast that Holiday Valley was open more hours per week than most other ski areas in the country. Their regular schedule is 9 a.m. to 9 p.m. Monday through Wednesday, 9 a.m. to 10 p.m. Thursday and Friday, and 8:30 a.m. to 10 p.m. Saturday and Sunday. That adds up to 89 hours per week. I’m not sure exactly where that ranks among U.S. American ski areas, but its in the upper five percentile.

On Mountains of Distinction

Eshbaugh mentions the Mountains of Distinction program. This is a discount program started by Jiminy Peak before the megapass craze. It currently includes Jiminy, Wachusett, Cranmore, Holiday Valley, Bromley, and Crystal Mountain, Michigan. Passholders at any of these ski areas generally get half off on weekdays and $15 off on weekends and holidays at any of the other resorts. The program was far larger at one time, but it’s lost many members – such as Seven Springs – to consolidation.

On the incredible migrating chairlift

I mentioned a chairlift at Hunt Hollow – a ski area that operates on the same public/private model as Holimont – that relocated one of Snowbird’s old chairs. The chair was Snowbird’s old Little Cloud double, which they removed in 2012 to make way for a high-speed quad. You can read more about it here (pages 13 to 14). Lift Blog documented the lift when it stood at Snowbird, and then again at Hunt Hollow.

On lost ski areas of Western New York

In the podcast intro, I mention a pair of onetime competitors to Holiday Valley that failed to evolve in the same way and went bust. One was Wing Hollow, a 750-footer just 20 minutes south of Holiday Valley that is now best known for a never-solved 1975 double-murder. Here’s the 1978 trailmap, showing two T-bars and a double chair - about the same setup that Holiday Valley had in that period.

I also mention Bluemont, which was just half an hour north of Holiday Valley and claimed an 800-foot-vertical drop, a double chair, a T-bar, and two ropetows. Here it is around 1980:

The land that Bluemont sat on is currently for sale for $5.95 million. I wrote about this in May:

Man I don’t know what happens to these places. Eight hundred vertical feet would make this the second-tallest ski area in Western New York, after Bristol, and poof. Just gone. NELSAP says that the last investors “never received enough capital to get their idea off the ground.” The chairlifts are apparently long gone. Who knows if you would even be able to build on the land if you owned it – everything is impossible these days, especially in New York. But here it is if you have the money and the gumption to try.

These were just the two largest of many lost ski areas in Western New York. You can poke around the lost New York ski areas page on the New England Lost Ski Areas project for more info.

On Holiday Valley’s evolution

Eshbaugh talks about the deliberate way they’ve built out Holiday Valley over the decades. The oldest trailmap I can find for the ski area is from 1969 – 11 years after the resort opened, and six years before Eshbaugh arrived. It shows what is currently the area from Mardi Gras over to Tannenbaum, including Yodeler and Chute:

The mountain added the first Cindy’s lift – a double chair – in 1978. Here’s the trailmap circa 1981 - Cindy’s is lift 3:

Morning Star – a triple – arrived in 1983. The Snowpine double came the following year. This circa 1988 trailmap shows both (Morning Star is lift 5; Snowpine lift 6), and also teases the Eagle quad, which was slated to open the following year (it did, but as a quad, rather than as the triple teased below):

The Sunrise quad rose in 1992. Here it is on a circa 1997 trailmap (lift 10):

The Spruce Lake quad arrived for the 2007-08 season (lift 11):

Which basically takes us to modern Holiday Valley, though the ski area continues to upgrade lifts regularly. Impressive as this growth has been, I don’t think they’re anywhere near finished.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 13/100 in 2023, and number 399 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

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Who

Dave Scanlan, General Manager of Eaglecrest, Alaska

Recorded on

February 13, 2023

About Eaglecrest

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: The City of Juneau

Located in: Juneau, Alaska

Year founded: 1975

Pass affiliations: Indy Pass, Powder Alliance, Freedom Pass

Reciprocal partners:

* 3 days each at: Anthony Lakes, Diamond Peak, Hilltop, Hogadon Basin, Lookout Pass, Monarch Mountain, Mount Bohemia, Mount Sima, Mount Ashland, Skeetawk, Skiland

* 1 unguided day at Silverton

* Eaglecrest has one of the most extensive reciprocal networks in America. Here’s an overview of everything that’s included in a season pass, which debuted for this season at $576. While there’s a ton of overlap, adding an Indy Pass onto this would give you another 50-plus ski areas:

Closest neighboring ski areas: Eaglecrest’s website reminds us that “There are no roads into Juneau, Alaska— you have to live here, fly, or ferry to experience this powder paradise.” There are no other ski areas nearby. So stay for a few days and enjoy it.

Base elevation: 1,130 feet

Summit elevation: 2,750 feet

Vertical drop: 1,620 feet

Skiable Acres: 640

Average annual snowfall: 350 inches

Trail count: 36 (40% advanced/expert, 40% intermediate, 20% beginner)

Lift count: 4 doubles – Eaglecrest also plans to add a pulse gondola, which will likely be ready for the 2025 summer season and 2025-26 ski season.

Why I interviewed him

This podcast started, as so many of them do, with me asking one question: what is going on here?

Every ski area is different, but some are more different than others. Mount Bohemia, with its complete absence of grooming and snowmaking and $109 season pass. Perfect North, which sits on southern Indiana farmland but processes more than 10,000 skiers on a busy day and employs 1,200 workers in the winter – bigger numbers than some Western alphas. Black Mountain of Maine, which, over the past decade, has undergone the largest expansion of any New England ski area – with zero promotion, masterplanning, or fanfare.

And here’s Eaglecrest. This ski area up in Alaska. But not just regular Alaska. Isolated coastal Alaska. Where roads don’t go. You have to fly or take a ferry. There, for some reason, is where the 49th state chose to locate its capital, Juneau. The state’s residents have voted many times to move the capital. But it remains. It is a gorgeous place, mountains launching dramatically from the water. There are 31,000 people there. And one ski area. Eaglecrest is big enough to stir curiosity, but not big enough to draw skiers in volume from the mainland, who have dozens of larger ski areas to bounce between. It is an Indy Pass member, a Freedom Pass member, a Powder Alliance member. It has a dozen reciprocal partnerships besides. Almost anyone can ski there – almost no one does. So what is this place? This city-owned ski area at the end of civilization? And what does it want to be? And how does it plan to get there?

I had questions. Scanlan had answers. This is a good one.

What we talked about

Fifteen straight days of snow is just how they roll in Southern Alaska; the Pineapple Express; if you think Alaska is all dark and subzero weather, think again; skiing in fishing gear; “we don’t have the big testosterone bro-brah attitude”; is Juneau ski bum paradise?; where a crowd on a Saturday pow day is a dozen early-risers ahead of you in the maze; Midwest pride; bump skiing at Wilmot; when “you fall in love with it not for the hype of a powder day, but for the feeling you get when you’re on your skis or snowboard”; a young vagabond in the ‘90s; Hope Alaska; founding the Mountain Rider’s Alliance to help small ski areas; the potential for resurrecting the long-lost Manitoba Mountain, Alaska; Skeetawk (Hatcher Pass); moving to and running Mt. Abram, Maine; what it’s like to compete with Sunday River; hardcore New England; Maine nice; landing a dream job at Eaglecrest; reworking the primitive snowmaking system; the pros and cons of running a city-owned ski area; whether Eaglecrest could ever survive without city subsidies; massive summer potential; easier to get to than you think: “If you live in Seattle, you can be sitting on the chair at Eaglecrest before most days you could be sitting on the chair at Crystal”; fly and ski free with your boarding pass; pushing back against locals who want to keep the place secret; why Eaglecrest has so many reciprocal partners and how effectively that’s drawing skiers to Alaska; why you saw an Eaglecrest booth at the Snowbound Festival in Boston; Indy Pass; comparing the coming Eaglecrest gondola installation with how the Lone Peak Tram transformed Big Sky in the 1990s; 20,000 daily summer visitors to a town that has 30,000 residents; “how do I take advantage of this amazing opportunity to put the cash in the pocket that I need to turn Eaglecrest into the best ski area in the world?”; why low-capacity lifts will continue to be Eaglecrest’s default; the drive to begin relocating quality used ski lifts from Europe to North America; breaking down Eaglecrest’s soon-to-be-installed fixed-grip pulse gondola; where the gondola’s top, bottom, and midstations will sit; how much larger Eaglecrest’s trail footprint will get; “I do carry some guilt of polarizing our ski community” by putting a lift into what’s now hike-in terrain; why the ski area needs investment to survive; thoughts on the future of the four double chairs; visiting and riding the future Eaglecrest gondola in Europe; massive upgrades for the lift; how the gondola will work with the Mt. Roberts Tram; a gondy timeline; potential for a beginner carpet; and how much the official count of 36 trails undersells the resort’s terrain.   

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

Eaglecrest is, as noted above, one of the continent’s most aggressive Megapass-Reciprocity players. That makes it an important mountain in an important Storm sub-narrative: how can you ski as much as possible, at as many ski areas as possible, for as little money as possible? While Eaglecrest’s network (50-ish partners), and pass price-point ($576 early-bird for 2022-23) don’t quite drop it into the Ski Cooper realm ($329 early-bird for this season and 61 partner ski areas), it nonetheless acts as a powerful enabling device for skiers with an adventurous bent and a small degree of logistical savvy.

The question, of course, is why Eaglecrest bothers. The place is marooned along the North American coast, one of the few non-island cities unreachable by road from the rest of the landmass. I’m sure some Eaglecrest locals journey south by plane and orchestrate a ski loop through the continental West. But I’m not sure if that’s the point here. Rather, Eaglecrest is trying to get skiers to come to them, to realize that if they hop a plane two-and-a-half hours north, they can land in the Great Unspoiled and have a powder-draped ski area to themselves.

The goal is to create long-term skiers. Tourists, you know. And once they’ve seen what the place is now, they’ll be revved up to return once Eaglecrest runs a new-used pulse gondola from its base to the top of Pittman’s Ridge. That will bring lift service to the ski area’s full 1,620-foot vertical drop for the first time and, more importantly, open hundreds of new acres of terrain skier’s left of the current boundary.

If you’re not familiar with a pulse gondola, you may have seen them at Snowmass or Steamboat – they run with little groups of cabins together, and are typically used in America more as transit lifts than ski lifts (the Snowmass lift mostly takes passengers up the village, and Steamboat’s lift moves skiers up from a cluster of condos down the mountain). These are fixed-grip lifts, but travel at tram speeds – Scanlan estimates the base-to-summit ride at around seven minutes. The lift will travel in three pods of 15-passenger cabins and will have a mid-station, off of which Eaglecrest could eventually build a learning area with carpets, Scanlan tells me. The yellow line here shows where the gondola will run on the mountain - the red lines represent the current lifts:

The lift has been controversial. It’s 34 years old, and operated at Austria’s Galsterberg Ski Area until last April. It cost approximately $2.5 million to purchase and transport, and will cost an additional $5.5 million to install. It will operate at a far lower capacity than a modern detachable gondola, which is what most U.S. ski areas use. Critics say the gondola competes with the private sector – in particular, the Mount Roberts Tramway.

Scanlan addresses each of these points in our conversation, with a nuanced analysis of Juneau’s thumping summer tourism season and how Eaglecrest can both act as a relief valve and boost its own long-term goal of financial independence.

Questions I wish I’d asked

Two points I wanted to discuss that I didn’t get to: how much the gondola will cost, and Eaglecrest’s very low lift ticket prices, which top out at $68. The ski area breaks down the cost in an FAQ on its website:

Q: I’ve heard about a $2 million cost and a $7.5 million cost. Which amount is correct?

$2 million [it ended up being $2.5 million] covers the initial purchase, transportation, and preliminary engineering of the Austrian pulse gondola. The funding ordinance currently under review is for this sum.

$5.5 million covers the cost of installation and additional infrastructure. Eaglecrest may eventually seek this sum as a loan to be paid back by summer operations. This number will be refined in the months ahead as we continue work with the Eaglecrest Board and Eaglecrest Summer Task Force to examine the business case and evaluate future costs.

Why you should ski Eaglecrest

Because this might be it. Survey the West: it’s full. Colorado High Country, the Wasatch, Tahoe, the Seattle and Portland day-drivers, Jackson, Mammoth, Big Sky – it’s traffic or it’s ticket limits or it’s sticker-shock pricing or it’s rivers of people or it’s the raw cost of living and everything else. Or it’s several or all of these factors, blended, to frustrate the romance of mountain-town living.

Not that rustic snowy backwaters don’t remain. But they are backwaters. Places like Turner, Montana, 2,110 vertical feet and 1,000 acres but lodged in the wilderness between Schweitzer and Whitefish. Sunrise Park, Arizona, 1,800 feet of vert and 1,200 acres, but marooned 90 miles from the nearest interstate highway and so dysfunctional that a huge chunk of the mountain sat inaccessible for five years after their monster triple chair broke down (it now takes three lift rides to reach that same terrain).

But look north. Look at this:

If you haven’t watched yet, let me pull one stat: Scanlan says on this video that a busy day at Eaglecrest – a weekend powder day, for instance – might draw 900 skiers. For the day. There’s more people waiting in the average McDonald’s drive-through line than that.

“Yeah Brah but it’s small.”

Watch the video, Brah.

“Yeah but it gets like half the snow of Mt. Tahoe, where my boys ride Brah.”

Watch the video.

“Yeah but it’s in Alaska and I don’t see the point of skiing in Europe when I can ski right here in U.S. America.”

Brah, watch the video.

As mainland Western U.S. skiing boils over, Eaglecrest remains on a low simmer. And while you’ll need an airplane to get there, you land in a state capital, with all the infrastructure and life conveniences that attend such a place. Juneau is a small city – 31,000 people – but an important one, with abundant stable government and industrial fishing jobs. It’s big enough to host a woo-hoo walkable downtown and all the standard American big-box claptrap on the outskirts, small enough that unloading every skier in the valley onto Eaglecrest’s access road won’t be enough to clog the drain. And when you arrive, you just ski. No parking drama. No lines. No Powder Day Death Matches. Just. Ski.

Yes, the lifts are old and slow: four fixed-grip doubles. Yes, accessing the full vert requires some hiking. Yes, coastal snow is not Wasatch snow. And yes, the total skiable acreage does not match your big-mountain Western destinations. But: recalibrate. Reset your expectations. Stripped of the hoards and the Hunger Games mentality they inspire, skiing is something different. A 10-minute lift ride is not so intolerable when you ski right onto the chair. Six hundred forty acres is plenty when it’s mostly ungroomed faces sparsely cut by the local bombers. Three hundred fifty inches is sufficient when it tumbles over the mountain in lake-effect patterns, a few inches every day for weeks at a time, refreshing and resetting the incline day after day.

Eaglecrest is going to get bigger, better, and, probably, busier. That gondola will change how Eaglecrest skis and, eventually, who skis there. It’s not a destination yet, not really. But it could be. And it probably should be – we’re rapidly moving past the era in which it makes sense for city tax dollars to subsidize a ski area. There are plenty of examples of publicly owned ski areas operating at a profit, and Eaglecrest should too. Go there now, before the transformation, to see it, to say you were there, to try that different thing that gets at what you’re probably looking for in the mountains already.

Podcast Notes

On the gondola

We referenced a note Scanlan penned shortly after taking delivery of the gondola. Read it in full here.

On Manitoba Mountain

Scanlan tells the story of trying to resurrect a small ski area called Manitoba Mountain near Hope Alaska. It had operated with up to three ropetows from World War II until the lodge burned down in 1960. Skimap.org has archived a handful of concept maps circa 2011, but Scanlan moved to Maine to take over Mt. Abram before he could re-open the ski area:

On Skeetawk/Hatcher Pass

Scanlan and I discuss a recently opened Alaska ski area that he refers to as “Hatcher Pass.” This is Skeetawk, a 300-vertical-foot bump that finally opened in 2020 after decades of failed plans. Here’s the ski area today:

And here’s a circa 2018 concept map, which shows where a future high-speed quad could run, connecting, in turn, to a high-alpine lift that would transport skiers to 4,068 feet. That would give the ski area a 2,618-foot vertical drop.

On the impact of the Big Sky tram

It’s hard to imagine, but Big Sky was sort of Small Sky before the ski area broke out the Lone Peak Tram in 1995. That project, which acted as a gateway to all-American pants-shitting terrain, transformed the way skiers perceived the mountain. But the tram was bigger than that: the lift accelerated the rapid late-90s/early-2000s evolution of U.S. skiing as a whole. An excerpt from this excellent history by Marc Peruzzi:

As unpolished, friendly, and authentic as Big Sky was in the early 1980s, it was a timid place known within Montana for stunning views, but exceedingly gentle pitches. Big Sky was the yin to rowdy, chute-striped Bridger Bowl’s yang. And it was struggling. Annual skier visits hovered around 80,000. The mountain wasn’t on the destination circuit. The business was losing money. Bound up skiing wasn’t working. …

it’s easy to overlook the fact that the Lone Peak Tram was and is the most audacious lift in North American skiing history. It was such a bold idea in fact, that John Kircher had to agree to the purchase without the approval of his father, and Boyne Resorts founder, Everett who disapproved vehemently with the project. The audacious claim is not hyperbole. The Peak 2 Peak Gondola in Whistler (it came 20 years later) might sport a longer span, but it was a far more straightforward installation and it’s more of a people mover than a ski lift. The Jackson and Snowbird trams serve serious terrain, but they run over a series of towers like traditional lifts. The Lone Peak Tram is an anomaly. Because it ascends a sheer face, the lift features a continuous span that’s unique in North America. No other design would work. Beyond the challenges of the cliff, the routine 120mph hour winds in the alpine would rip chairs off cables and smash tram cars into towers. …

By 1996, the year the tram opened, the skiing nanny state was crumbling. … At the forefront of this change was the Lone Peak Tram. It changed the mindset of the ski industry. But that change was bigger than the sheer audacity of the lift and the terrain it served—or even the fact that Big Sky’s patrol had figured out how to manage it. The Lone Peak Tram didn’t just make for good skiing, it made good business sense. Whereas Kircher is quick to credit Montana’s frontier culture for the actual construction of the tram, Middleton discounts the cowboy element and insists it was a strategic long-term business play to elevate the ski experience. But two things can be true at the same time, and that’s the case with the Lone Peak Tram. …

In the years after the Lone Peak Tram opened, expansion into steep terrain became commonplace again. Sunshine Village’s Delirium Dive opened in 1998. Then came the hike-to terrain of Aspen Highlands’ Highland Bowl; Crystal Mountain’s “inbounds sidecountry” in the Southback zone, and its 2007 Northway expansion; and more recently Taos Ski Valley in New Mexico finally strung a lift to Kachina Peak, which as with Lone Peak had been hiked for years. Any skier worth their weight would add the Headwaters at Moonlight to that list.

This video tells the story just as well:

The context in the podcast was the incoming Eaglecrest gondola, and whether that lift could have the same transformative impact on Eaglecrest. While the terrain that the new-used Alaskan lift will serve is not quite as dramatic as that strafing Big Sky, it will reframe the ski area in the popular conversation.

On ski porn

I don’t write a lot about athletes, obviously, but Scanlan mentions several that he skied with at summer camps on the Blackcomb Glacier back in the ‘90s. One is Candide Thovex, who is like from another galaxy or a CG bot or something:

On old-school Park City

Scanlan talks about the summer he helped yank out the “old-school” Park City gondola and install the “Payday six-packs.” He was referring to the Payday and Bonanza sixers, which replaced the mountain’s two-stage, four-passenger gondola in the summer of 1997. Here’s the 1996 trailmap, showing the gondy, which had run since 1963:

And here’s the 1997-98 trailmap, calling out the new six-packs as only a 1990s trailmap can:

On old-school Alta

Modern Alta – the one that most of you know, with its blazing fast lifts and Ikon Pass partnership – is a version of Alta that would have been sacrilege to the powder monks who haunted the place for decades. “The ski area for traditionalists, ascetics, and cheapskates,” read one Skiing Magazine review in 1994. “The lifts are slow and creaky, the accommodations are spartan, but the lift tickets are the best deal in skiing, especially when Alta’s fabled powder comes with them.” Here’s what Alta looked like in 2000, the year before Sugarloaf gave way to the resort’s first high-speed chairlift:

This is the Alta of Scanlan’s ski-bum days, “before the high-speeders came in,” as he puts it. Before the two-stage Collins lift took out Germania (which lives on at Beaver Mountain, Utah), a longer Supreme killed Cecret, and a new Sunnyside sixer deleted Albion, which served Alta’s boring side. Before a peak-day walk-up lift ticket ran $179 (throw in another $40 if you want to connect to Snowbird). They do, however, still have the stupid snowboard ban, so there’s that.

On previous GM Matt Lillard

Scanlan and I discuss his immediate predecessor, Matt Lillard, who is now running Vermont’s Mad River Glen. Lillard joined me on the podcast three years ago, and we briefly discussed Eaglecrest:

On Gunstock

Scanlan compares Eaglecrest’s operating and ownership models to Gunstock, noting, “we’ve all seen how that can go.” We sure have:

On Eaglecrest’s fly-and-ski-free program

Here are details on how to cash in your boarding pass for an Eaglecrest lift ticket on the day you land in Juneau. Alaska Airlines offers similar deals at Alyeska, Bogus Basin, Red Lodge, Red Mountain, Schweitzer, Marmot Basin, and, shockingly, Steamboat, where a one-day lift ticket can cost as much as a 747.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 14/100 in 2023, and number 400 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

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Who

Christian Knapp, Vice President and Chief Marketing Officer of Pacific Group Resorts

Recorded on

February 27, 2023

About Pacific Group Resorts

Pacific Group Resorts (PGRI) owns and/or operates six North American ski areas:

While they don’t have a single unified pass like Vail Resorts or Mountain Capital Partners, PGRI’s ski areas do offer reciprocity for their passholders, largely through their Mission: Affordable product. Here are the 2022-23 exchanges – the company has not yet released 2023-24 passes:

Why I interviewed him

There are more than a dozen companies that own three or more ski areas in North America. The National Ski Areas Association itemizes most of them* here. Everyone knows Vail and Aspen, whether they ski or not. The next tier is a little more insider, but not much: Alterra, Boyne, Powdr. These are the ski companies with national footprints and Ikon Pass headliner resorts. If skiers haven’t heard of these companies, they’re familiar with Mammoth and Big Sky and Snowbird. Everything else on the list is regionally dense: Invision Capital’s three California ski areas (Mountain High, Dodge Ridge, China Peak); Wisconsin Resorts six Midwestern bumps (Alpine Valley, Pine Knob, Mt. Holly, and Bittersweet in Michigan; Alpine Valley in Wisconsin; and Searchmont in Ontario); the State of New York’s Belleayre, Gore, and Whiteface. Some – like Midwest Family Ski Resorts’ trio of gigantors – align with Indy Pass, while others stand alone, with a pass just for their mountains, like Mountain Capital Partners’ Power Pass.

PGRI doesn’t fit any of these templates. The company has a national footprint, with properties stretching from coastal BC to New Hampshire, but no national pass presence (at least before the company inherited Jay Peak’s Indy Pass membership). Its properties’ season passes sort of work together but sort of don’t. It’s all a little strange: a small ski area operator, based in Park City, whose nearest ski area is more than a 400-mile drive away, on the edge of Colorado’s Grand Mesa. PGRI is built like a regional operator, but its ski areas are scattered across the continent, including in improbable-seeming locales such as Maryland and Virginia.

Despite the constant facile reminders that American Skiing Company and SKI failed, small conglomerates such as PGRI are likely the future of skiing. Owning multiple resorts in multiple regions is the best kind of weather insurance. Scale builds appeal both for national pass coalitions and for banks, who often control the cash register. A larger company can build a talent pipeline to shift people around and advance their careers, which often improves retention, creating, in turn, a better ski experience. Or so the theories go. Independence will always have advantages, and consolidation its pitfalls, but the grouping together of ski resorts is not going away. So let’s talk to one of the companies actively growing on its own terms, in its own way, and setting a new template for what corporate skiing balanced with local control can look like.

*Missing from the NSAA’s list is the Schmitz Brothers trio of Wisconsin ski areas: Little Switzerland, Nordic Mountain, and The Rock Snow Park; the list also includes Sun Valley and Snowbasin, which are jointly owned by the Holding Family, but excludes the other two-resort groups around the country: Berkshire East/Catamount, Labrador/Song, 49 Degrees North/Silver Mountain, Homewood/Red Lodge, Perfect North/Timberline, and Mission Ridge/Blacktail - there may be others).

What we talked about

The bomber western winter; closing Wintergreen early; the existential importance of Eastern snowmaking; why Mid-Atlantic ski resorts are such great businesses; growing up in the ski industry; Mt. Bachelor in the ‘90s; Breck in the early Vail days; why founding the Mountain Collective was harder than you probably think; the surprising mountain that helped start but never joined the pass; how essential the existence of Mountain Collective was to Ikon Pass; why Ikon didn’t kill Mountain Collective; the origins and structure of Pacific Group Resorts (PGRI); reviving the historically troubled Ragged Mountain; the two things that PGRI did differently from previous owners to finally help Ragged succeed; the Mission: Affordable pass suite; how Jay Peak turbocharged reciprocity between the company’s resorts; how reciprocity for Jay Peak may shape up for 2023-24 passes; why we’re unlikely to see a Mission: Affordable pass at Jay Peak; why Mount Washington Alpine hasn’t had a Mission: Affordable pass; the future of Jay Peak – and, potentially the rest of PGRI’s portfolio – on the Indy Pass; the fate of Ragged’s Pinnacle Peak expansion; how and why PGRI started running and eventually purchased Wisp and Wintergreen; wild and isolated Mount Washington Alpine; could that Vancouver Island resort ever be a destination?; thoughts on replacing the West End double at Powderhorn; why PGRI has not prioritized lift replacements at the rate of some of its competitors; priorities for lift upgrades at Wisp; winning the bid for Jay Peak; reflecting on receivership; the chances of getting a new Bonaventure lift; and whether PGRI will buy more ski areas.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

The lazy answer: PGRI just bought Jay Peak, and while writing the various stories leading up to and after the auction in which they acquired the joint,  I established contact with PGRI corporate HQ for the first time. My first impression was not a great one (on their side), as I managed to not only jack up the company name in the headline announcing their opening bid, but get the fundamentals of the story so wrong that I had to issue a correction with a full article re-send for the only time in Storm history. Which apparently created a huge PR pain in the ass for them. Sorry.

Maybe the stupid jokes eventually disarmed them over or something, but for whatever reason Knapp agreed to do the pod. As you know I don’t typically host marketing-type folks. I work with them all the time and value them immensely, but that’s just not the brand. The brand is talk-to-whoever-is-in-charge-of-whatever-mountain-or-company-I’m-talking-about. But Knapp is a unique case, the former CMO of Aspen Skiing Company and the creator of the uber-relevant-to-my-readers Mountain Collective Pass. So Knapp joins the equally impressive Hugh Reynolds of Snow Partners as the only other marketing lead to ever carry his own episode.

Ahem. What I was trying to get to is this: yes, this was a convenient time to drill into PGRI, because they just bought one of the most important ski resorts on the Eastern seaboard and everyone’s like, “Now what, Bro?” But this is a company that has been quietly relevant for years. It cannot be overstated what an absolute shitshow Ragged Mountain was for five decades. No one could get that thing right. Now it is one of the most well-regarded ski areas in New Hampshire, with knockout grooming, a killer glade network, one of the state’s best lift systems, and a customer-friendly orientation that begins with its ridiculous Mission: Affordable season pass, one of the few all-access season passes under $400 at a thousand-foot-plus mountain in New England.

Which set them up perfectly to glide into the Jay marquee. Almost any other buyer would have ignited mutiny at Jay. No one I’ve spoken to who skis the mountain regularly wanted the place anywhere near the Ikon Pass. So no Alterra, Powdr, or Boyne. Epic? LOL no. Locals have seen enough downstate. Another rich asshat cackling with cartoon glee as he shifts hundreds of millions of dollars around like he’s reorganizing suitcases in his Escalade? F**k no. Jay will be shedding the scabs of Ariel Quiros’ various schemes for decades. PGRI hit that Goldilocks spot, a proven New England operator without megapass baggage that has operated scandal-free for 15 years, and is run by people who know how to make a big resort go (PGRI CEO Vern Greco is former president and GM of both Park City and Steamboat, and the former COO of Powdr Corp).

PGRI is just good at running ski areas. Wisp opened Thanksgiving weekend, despite 70-degree temperatures through much of that month, despite being in Maryland. Visitation has been trending up at Powderhorn for years after steady snowmaking improvements. It’s hard to find anyone with a bad opinion of Ragged.

But PGRI has never been what business folk call a “consumer-facing brand.” Meaning they let the resorts speak for themselves. Meaning we don’t know much about the company behind all those mountains, or what their plans are to build out their network. Or build within it, for that matter. PGRI has only stood up one new chairlift in 16 years – the Spear Mountain high-speed quad at Ragged. Powderhorn skiers are side-eyeing the 51-year-old, 1,655-vertical-foot, 7,000-foot-long West End double chair and thinking, “are you kidding me with this thing?” Five years into ownership, they want a plan. Or at least to know it’s a priority. There are lesser examples all over the portfolio. It was time to see what these guys were thinking.

Questions I wish I’d asked

I had a few questions teed up that I didn’t quite get to: why is Ragged still owned by something called RMR-Pacific LLC (and operated by PGRI)? I also wanted to understand why some PGRI ski areas use dynamic pricing but others don’t. I’m still a little confused as to the exact timeline of Pacific Group purchasing Ragged and then PGRI materializing to take over the ski area. And of course I could have filled an entire hour with questions on any of the six ski areas.

What I got wrong

When I summarized Ragged’s traumatic financial history, I said, “ownership defaulted on a loan.” It sounded as though I was suggesting that PGRI defaulted on the loan, when it was in fact the previous owner. You can read the full history of Ragged’s many pre-PGRI financial issues on New England Ski History.

I said that Midwest Family Ski Resorts had announced two new high-speed six-packs “in the past couple years.” They’ve actually announced two within the past year, both of which will be built this summer: a new Eagle Mountain lift at Lutsen, and a new sixer to replace three old Riblets on the Jackson Creek Summit side of Snowriver.

Somehow though I got through this entire interview without calling the company “Pacific Resorts Group” and I would like credit for this please.

Why you should ski PGRI’s mountains

Well let’s just fire through these real quick. Jay: most snow in the East. Nearly 300 inches so far even in this drab-until-the-past-two-weeks New England season. Some of the best glade skiing in the country. Just look:

Ragged: Also strong on glades, though it gets maybe a third of Jay’s snowfall if it’s lucky. When the snow doesn’t come, Ragged has some of the best grooming in New Hampshire:

Wisp and Wintergreen: you know, I take my kid to Mt. Peter, a small ski area outside of New York City, every Saturday for a seasonal ski program. I’d say 80 percent of the parents arrive in street clothes, drop their kids, and sit in the lodge zombie-scrolling their phones for 90 minutes. Why? Why wouldn’t a person ski every opportunity they have? This is what Wisp and Wintergreen exist for. Sure, you live in the Mid-Atlantic. No one is trying to pretend it’s Colorado. But these are good little mountains. Wisp is a zinger, with terrific fall line skiing. Wintergreen sprawls, with a fun trail network and two high-speed sixers. If you live anywhere near them, there’s absolutely no reason not to pick up their sub-$400 season passes (though Wintergreen’s is not a true season pass, excluding Saturdays and holidays, which are reserved for club members) to supplement the Epic or Ikon Pass you use for those Western or New England vacations:

Powderhorn: If you live in Grand Junction, you can fight your way east, or stop on the Mesa and go skiing:

Mt. Washington Alpine: I know you’ll all tell me this is for locals, that no one would bother trekking out to Vancouver Island when they can reach Whistler in a fraction of the time. But I don’t know man, I’ve done enough wild voyages to the ass-ends of the earth to have convinced myself that it’s always worth it, especially if skiing is involved:

Besides, you’re not going to find Whistler crowds here, and this is about enough mountain for most of us.

Podcast Notes

On Wisp and Wintergreen opening and closing dates

I mentioned on the podcast that Wisp opened in November. The exact date was Nov. 25 for Wisp. The resort is still open today, though on “limited terrain,” and I imagine the season is winding down quickly. Wintergreen opened on Dec. 20 and closed Feb. 26. Ugh.

On the world’s largest snow fort

Knapp said he helped start this tradition when he worked at Keystone:

On the Mountain Collective

Knapp and I had an extensive discussion about his role founding Mountain Collective, which debuted in 2012 with two days each at Alta, Aspen-Snowmass, Jackson Hole, and Palisades Tahoe. At $349, it’s underwhelming to today’s ski consumer, but it’s impossible to overstate how miraculous it was that the product existed at all. I won’t give away the whole story, but this 2012 Powder article crystalizes the shock and stoke around the realization that these four resorts were on the same pass, Brah!

On Pinnacle Peak at Ragged 

PGRI is probably hoping I will stop asking them about this stalled expansion at Ragged sometime this century. No luck so far, as I presented Knapp with the same set of questions that I’d asked Ragged GM Erik Barnes on the podcast last year. Here’s what I was talking about: in 2007, PGRI took over Ragged. From 2014 to 2019, the mountain teased this future expansion on its trailmaps:

Then, without explanation, the expansion disappeared. What happened? “The expansion does not make financial sense,” Knapp told me last year. But I wanted a more thorough explanation. Knapp delivered. This is still one of the most talked-about projects in New England, and its sudden abeyance has been a source of curiosity and confusion for Ragged skiers for a few years now. Listen up to find out what happened.

The Storm Skiing Journal and Podcast is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, please consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. The discounted annual rate is available until March 13, 2023.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 19/100 in 2023, and number 405 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

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Who

Nick Polumbus, President of Whitefish Mountain Resort, Montana

Recorded on

January 13, 2023

About Whitefish

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Winter Sports, Inc.

Pass affiliations: None

Reciprocal pass partners:

* 3 days each at Great Divide, Loveland, Mt. Hood Meadows

* 5 days at Red Lodge

Located in: Whitefish, Montana

Closest neighboring ski areas: Blacktail (1 hour, 15 minutes), Fernie (2 hours), Turner (2 hours, 30 minutes), Kimberley (2 hours, 45 minutes), Montana Snowbowl (3 hours), Lookout Pass (3 hours) – travel times will vary considerably pending weather, border traffic, and time of year

Base elevation: 4,464 feet

Summit elevation: 6,817 feet

Vertical drop: 2,353 feet

Skiable Acres: roughly 3,000 acres

Average annual snowfall: nearly 300 inches

Trail count: 128 (8 expert, 49 advanced, 40 intermediate, 25 beginner, 6 terrain parks)

Lift count: 15­­ (1 six-pack, 3 high-speed quads, 2 fixed-grip quads, 6 triples, 2 T-bars, 1 carpet)

Why I interviewed him

You can be forgiven for thinking that Epkon chewed them all up. That the only ski areas worth skiing are those stacked on the industry’s twin magic carpets. These shuttles to something grand, to what you think of when you think about the mountains. Ikon got Jackson and Palisades and the Cottonwoods and Taos. Epic got Vail and Telluride and Heavenly and Park City. What more could be left? What more could you need?

You probably need this. Whitefish. Or Big Mountain, as you will. Three thousand acres of Montana steep and white. Plenty of snow. Plenty of lifts. A new sixer to boom you up the hillside. The rootin’-tootin’ town below. A C-note gets you a lift ticket and change to buy a brew. No bitterness in the exchange.

It’s hard to say exactly if Whitefish is an anachronism or an anomaly or a portent or a manifestation of wanton Montana swagger. Among big, developed U.S. mountains, it certainly stands alone.

This model is extinct, I thought. Coercion-by-punishment being the preferred sales tactic of the big-mountain conglomerates. “Four lift tickets for today, Mr. Suburban Dad who decided to shepherd the children to Colorado on a last-minute spring break trip? That will be $1,200. Oh does that seem like a lot to you? Well that will teach you not to purchase access to skiing 13 months in advance.”

So far, Whitefish has resisted skiing’s worst idea. Good for them. Better for them: this appears to be a winning business strategy. Skier visits have climbed annually for more than a decade. Look at a map and you’ll see that’s more impressive than it sounds. Whitefish is parked at the top of America, near nothing, on the way to nothing. You have to go there on purpose. And with Epic and Ikon passes tumbling out of every other skier’s jacket pockets, you need a special story to bait that journey.

So what’s going on here? Why hasn’t this mountain done what every other mountain has done and joined a pass? Like the comely maiden at the ball, Whitefish could have its pick: Epic, Ikon, Mountain Collective, Indy. An instant headliner and pass-mover. But the single life can be appealing. Do as you please, chill with who you want, set your own agenda. That’s Whitefish’s game. And I’m watching.

What we talked about

Why Whitefish typically calls it a season with a 100-inch summit base depth; Front Range Colorado and I-70 in the 1970s; how Colorado and Utah snow and traffic impacts skier traffic at Whitefish; how a Colorado kid enters the ski industry in Vermont; a business turnaround at Whitefish; “get the old fish out of the fridge”; how Whitefish has stayed affordable as it’s modernized; why the ski area changed its name from “Big Mountain” and how that landed locally; who owns Whitefish and how committed they are to independence; the new Snow Ghost Express sixer; ripple effects on other chairlifts after Snow Ghost popped live; record skier visits; snow ghosts; the best marketing line of Polumbus’ career; a big-time potential future expansion; the mountain’s recent chairlift shuffles; why chairs 5 and 8 don’t go to the summit; the art of terrain-pod building; why Bad Rock isn’t running this winter; thoughts on the future of Tenderfoot and the Heritage T-bar; Why Whitefish lift tickets cost a fraction of what similarly sized mountains charge; an amazing season pass stat; the mountain’s steady rise of skier visits; and much love for the Indy Pass even if it “isn’t a good fit for us.”

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

Well I actually thought that January was a great time for this interview. Which is why I recorded it then. And here it is in your inbox, a mere 11 weeks later. Which is a bad look for me and a bad look for the brand and not very considerate to my guest. I’ll offer an explanation, but not an excuse: the sound quality on this recording was, um, not good. Most podcasts take two to four hours to edit. This one required 10 times that. So why didn’t I just blast it out back in January? Since so much of what I write is reaction to breaking news, every hour I spend on a pod is an hour I’m not delivering more urgent content. And most Storm Skiing Podcasts are fairly evergreen. Skiers binge them on long roadtrips – I know this because they tell me so and because the numbers keep going up on eps that I dropped back in 2019.

But none of that matters to you or to the team at Whitefish, and it shouldn’t. I know that a lot of you have been waiting for this one since I started hyping it last year, and this long delay was disappointing. I get it. One core promise of The Storm, however, is that I will continually improve the product and the process. So I’ll own this one and refine my workflow to prevent future delays. Sorry.

But, to address the actual purpose of this section: why did I think that now was a good time for this interview? It’s everything I said above. Alterra has copied Vail’s ridiculous day-ticket price structure, and Boyne and Powdr aren’t far behind. Even little Mountain Capital Partners is allowing the robots to price-surge Arizona Snowbowl tickets past the $300 mark on peak days. Whitefish doesn’t exactly stand alone in resisting these price schemes – plenty of other ski areas will still sell you a walk-up lift ticket that costs less than a heart transplant. But none are as large, as high-profile, and as modern as Whitefish – at least not in our beloved U.S. America. Like some brash hipster rocking a Walkman on his fixed-gear bicycle, Whitefish has made the once-pedestrian into the novel. Innovation by staying in place.

The Epic Pass gets a lot of well-deserved credit for stabilizing skiing by front-loading pass sales to springtime, insulating revenue from weather-dependency. But Vail and Alterra have cast the $250-plus lift ticket as an essential piece of their passes’ success. As though no one would buy the pass if they knew they could still go ski Beaver Creek for $100 anytime they liked. There is a brutal logic to this. You’re only going to buy a $275 lift ticket one time. Then you’ll go looking for hacks. But the process is demeaning and embarrassing, like you’re the last guy to the gas pump in the apocalypse.

I wrote a story on Whitefish’s business model back in 2021, profiling both that mountain and Jay Peak. Both are run, perhaps coincidentally, by headmen who are fist-bump bros that came up together at late-ASC Killington in the ‘90s: Polumbus and Jay Peak’s Steve Wright. I don’t know how much they brought their brains together to arrive at similar ticket menus, but I know from interacting with both that they share the same kind of heart. A down-to-earth humility and empathy that considers humans in the business equation, rather than just making them the number at the transactional finish line.

Why you should ski Whitefish

Did you see the part above about 3,000 acres of terrain and 300 inches of average annual snowfall? Yeah, go enjoy that.

But let me harp on the lift ticket thing just a little bit more. If your boys are anything like mine, they are more likely to translate War and Peace into Braille than they are to heed your advice to purchase lift tickets 10 months before your next ski trip. I say this not because my friends are brilliant, but because they are lazy a******s who need their wives to label their underwear drawers lest they be forced to go commando for months on end. So if you’re planning, say, “Gary’s 50th Birthday Ski Adventure,” you have choices: Heavenly (South Tahoe!), Jackson (Jackson!), Telluride (Telluride!), etc. My buddies, mostly Three-Day Dans, are going to ignore my clear and repeated reminders to purchase Epic Day or Mountain Collective Passes, and are instead going to commandeer their monthly car payment to cover the cost of two days’ skiing. And then be all shocked and annoyed about it. Whitefish, where even last-minute skiing runs less than $100 per day, is the solution to such gatherings.

That’s an edge case, I realize. And surely there are attributes of skiing Whitefish beyond the low cost at the turnstile: the terrain, the views, the snowghosts, the unpretentious vibe, the snowfall, the enormous breadth of it all. But the price thing matters enormously. If you have an Ikon Pass and you’re passing through Park City, you’re probably not stopping to scope the place out. Throwing down $269 for a day of skiing seems a little stupid if you have unlimited skiing on a $1,000-plus pass that you already own. But if you’re rolling from Sun Peaks down to Big Sky and you want to sidebar to Whitefish, well, that lift ticket’s not going to kill you in the same way. That sort of pop-around spontaneity defined a big piece of the road-trip ski scene for decades, and it’s fading. Too bad.  

Podcast Notes

On American Skiing Company and S-K-I

Polumbus refers to the S-K-I and American Skiing Company (ASC) Merger, which roughly coincided with the beginning of his Killington tenure in 1996. Check this crazy portfolio, as documented by New England Ski History:

At the time of the deal, both companies only had New England ski areas, with LBO Resort Enterprises' portfolio composed of Attitash Bear Peak, NH, Cranmore, NH, Sugarbush, VT, and Sunday River, ME, while S-K-I Ltd. owned Haystack, VT, Killington, VT, Mt. Snow, VT, Sugarloaf, ME, and Waterville Valley, NH.

Can you imagine if that crew had held into the megapass era? Instead, they are split between seven different owners:

The coalition didn’t hold for long. The Justice department made ASC sell Cranmore and Waterville Valley immediately. And even though the company was like “F you Brah” and purchased Pico five minutes later, and went on to purchase The Canyons (then Wolf Mountain, formerly Park West, now part of Park City), Steamboat, and Heavenly, the whole enterprise disintegrated in slow motion over the next dozen years. New England Ski History documents the company’s arc comprehensively:

On lift shuffles

Whitefish moves lifts around its mountain like some of us re-organize our living room couches. Check out the 2005 front-side trailmap on the left. By 2007, the Glacier Chaser Express had been shortened and slid looker’s left to replace the old Swift Creek double, and the Easy Rider triple had moved down-mountain and become Elk Meadows. The new Easy Rider, a quad seated across the mountain, was also a relocated machine, from Moab Scenic Skyway, according to Lift Blog.

In 2017, Whitefish moved Glacier View, a 1981 CTEC triple, to a new location and renamed it East Rim:

Then last year, Whitefish moved the Hellroaring triple looker’s left across the mountain. Note the changes in the trail network below Lacey Lane, which ran under the old line:

Amazingly, that was the second time Whitefish had relocated that same chair. It began life in 1985 as the Big Creek chairlift, which served the North Side in this circa 1995 trailmap:

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 27/100 in 2023, and number 413 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing all year long. Join us.

This podcast hit paid subscribers’ inboxes on April 2. It dropped for free subscribers on April 5. To receive future pods as soon as they’re live, and to support independent ski journalism, please consider an upgrade to a paid subscription. You can also subscribe for free below:

Who

Jim Quimby, General Manager of Saddleback, Maine

Recorded on

March 6, 2023

About Saddleback

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Arctaris Investments

Located in: Rangeley, Maine

Year founded: 1960

Pass affiliations: Indy Pass

Reciprocal partners: None

Closest neighboring ski areas: Sugarloaf (52 minutes), Titcomb (1 hour), Black Mountain of Maine (1 hour, 9 minutes), Spruce Mountain (1 hour, 22 minutes), Baker Mountain (1 hour, 33 minutes), Mt. Abram (1 hour, 36 minutes), Sunday River (1 hour, 41 minutes)

Base elevation: 2,120 feet

Summit elevation: 4,120 feet

Vertical drop: 2,000 feet

Skiable Acres: 600+

Average annual snowfall: 225 inches

Trail count: 68 (23 beginner, 20 intermediate, 18 advanced, 7 expert) + 2 terrain parks

Lift count: 6 (1 high-speed quad, 3 fixed-grip quads, 1 T-bar, 1 carpet)

Why I interviewed him

The best article I’ve ever read on Saddleback came from Bill Donahue, writing for Outside, with the unfortunate dateline of March 9, 2020. That was a few days before the planet shut down to prevent the spread of Covid-19, and just after Arctaris had purchased Saddleback and promised to tug the ski area out of its five-year slumber. Donahue included a long section on Quimby:

But to really register the new hope that’s blossomed in Rangeley, I needed to drive up the winding hill to Saddleback’s lodge and talk to Jimmy Quimby. Fifty-nine years old and weathered, his chin specked with salt-and-pepper stubble, Quimby is the scion of a Saddleback pillar. His father, Doc, poured concrete to build the towers for one of Saddleback’s first lifts in 1963 and later built trails and made snow for the mountain. His mother, Judy, worked in the ski area’s cafeteria for about 15 years. “We were so poor,” Quimby told me, “that we didn’t have a pot to piss in, but I skied every weekend.” Indeed, as a high schooler, Quimby took part in every form of alpine ski competition available—on a single pair of skis. His 163-centimeter Dynastar Easy Riders were both his ballet boards and his giant-slalom guns. They also transported him to mischief. In his teenage years, Quimby was part of a nefarious Saddleback gang, the Rat Pack. “We terrorized the skiing public,” he said. “We built jumps. We skied fast. We made the T-bar swerve so people fell off.”

Just days after his 18th birthday, Quimby left Maine to serve 20 years in the Air Force as an electrical-line repairman and managed, somehow, to spend a good chunk of time near Japan’s storied Hakkoda Ski Resort, where he routinely hucked himself off 35-foot cornices while schussing in blue jeans. When he returned to Maine in 1998, he commenced working at Saddleback and honed such a love for the mountain that, when it closed in 2015, his heart broke. He simply refused to ski after that. “I decided,” he said, “that I just wouldn’t ski anywhere else.” Friends in the industry offered him free tickets at nearby mountains; Quimby demurred and hunkered down at Saddleback, where he remained mountain manager. The Berrys paid him to watch over the nonfunctioning trails and lifts during the long closure. “I’m a prideful person,” he explained. “OK, I did do a little skiing with my grandchildren, but they’re preschoolers. I haven’t made an adult turn since Saddleback closed.”

Quimby is now working for Arctaris, which owns Saddleback Inc., but that’s a technicality. His mission is spiritual, and when I met him in his office, I found that I had stepped into a shrine, a jam-packed Saddleback museum. There were lapel pins, patches, bumper stickers, posters, and also a wooden ski signed in 1960 by about 35 of Saddleback’s progenitors. Quimby’s prize possession, though, is a brass belt buckle he bought in the Saddleback rental shop in the 1970s. “I used to wear it every day,” he told me, “but when Saddleback closed, I put it on a dresser and never wore it again.”

Quimby stood up from the desk now, to reveal that he was wearing the buckle once more. In capitalized brass letters, it read “SKI.” His eyes were glassy with emotion.

“We’re going to do this,” he said quietly, speaking of Saddleback’s resurrection. “We’re going to make this happen.”

They did make this happen. One feature of improbable feats is that they are often taken for granted once achieved. The number of people who confessed doubts to me privately about the viability of Saddleback is significant. It won’t work because… it’s too remote, there are not enough skier visits to spread around Maine, there are too many bodies buried on the property, the previous owners emptied the GDP of a small country onto the property and it still failed. All fair arguments, but for every built thing there are reasons it should have failed. The great advantage of humans over other animals is our ability to solve the unsolvable. I push a button on my phone and a person 5,000 miles away sees a note from me in an instant. That would have been dubbed magic for 100,000 years and now it is a fact of daily existence. Humans can do amazing things. And the humans who dug Saddleback out of the grave did an amazing thing, and it’s a story I just can’t get enough of.

What we talked about

Saddleback’s strong 2022-23 ski season; the Casablanca Glades; the ski area in the sixties; “Saddleback was my babysitter”; Rangeley reminisces; when the U.S. Air Force stations a ski bum in Northern Japan; the Donald Breen era of Saddleback and a long battle with the Forest Service; Saddleback’s relationship with the Forest Service today; the Berry family arrives; an investment spree; why Saddleback closed in 2015; why the Berrys replaced the Kennebago T-bar with a quad and whether they should have upgraded the Rangeley lift first; Quimby’s reaction when Saddleback closed; how Quimby kept Saddleback from falling apart during his five years as caretaker of a lost ski area; why Arctaris finally revitalized the ski area after so many other potential buyers had faded; the most important man at Saddleback; the blessing and the curse of rebuilding a ski area in the pandemic year of 2020; how close Saddleback came to upgrading Rangeley to a fixed-grip, rather than a detachable, quad; how much that lift transformed the ski area; the legacy of Andy Shepard, the former general manager who oversaw the ski area’s comeback; Saddleback the business in year three of its comeback; surveying Saddleback’s ultra-new lift fleet; why Saddleback replaced the 900-year-old Cupsuptic T-bar with a brand-new T-bar; why the ski area chose Partek to build the new Sandy quad and how successful that lift has been; the story behind the old Saddleback trailmaps with theoretical lifts scribbled all over them (yes, this one):

… whether Saddleback will expand terrain any time soon; the ski area’s next likely chairlift; the potential for a hotel; the mountain’s masterplan; how important the Indy Pass has been to Saddleback’s comeback; and Indy blackouts and whether they will continue.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

With lift towers rising up the mountainside and hammers clanging through the valleys and autumn frosts biting the New England hills, Andy Shepard hacked out an hour for me in October 2020 to discuss the previous six months at Saddleback. He itemized the tasks that Saddleback’s crews had achieved in the maw of Covid. An incomprehensible list. Rebuild everything. Clean everything. Hire an army. Demolish and build a chairlift. Stand up a website and an e-commerce platform. All in the midst of the most confusing and contentious time in modern American history. The mission was awesome, and so was the story behind it:

Congratulations, you did it. But the second that new detachable quad started spinning in December 2020, Saddleback became just another New England ski area, just another choice for skiers who already have dozens. So now what? What of all those old masterplans showing terrain expansions and lifts extending halfway to Canada? When can we get more places to stay on the hill? Can we get snowmaking on the trail back to the condos finally?

Two and a half years later, it was time for a check-in. To see how Shepard and Quimby and the crew had quietly transformed what was long a backwater bump into one of the most modern ski areas in the country. To see how the Indy Pass – which hadn’t existed when Saddleback went into its shell – had turbocharged the mountain’s comeback tour. And to see, indeed, what is next for this New England gem.

What I got wrong

I wasn’t wrong on this so much as late to publish: Quimby and I discussed season passes at the end of the podcast. At the time, details on the 2023-24 pass suite had not yet been released, and we talked a bit about where pricing would land. These details have long gone public, but I kept the section intact because Quimby details why the ski area was compelled to raise rates from previous seasons (the increase ended up being modest in the context of ongoing inflation, from $699 this season to $799 for next).

Also there’s a reference in our conversation to Sandy being a detachable quad, but the 227-vertical-foot quad is in fact a fixed-grip lift.

Why you should ski Saddleback

Man is this place big. Two broad ridges staggered and stacked and parallel, with dozens of ways down each. Glades all over. Amazing fall line skiing. Lift lines? Not many. Maybe on Rangeley, maybe on big days. But mostly, the place is a glorious wide-open banger, stuffed into a north country snow pocket that most always stands above New England’s notorious rain-snow line as storms roll through.

“Yes but is it worth the drive?” asks Overthinks Everything Bro. Yes it’s worth the drive. “But I have to pass 19 other big ski areas to get there.” So? If a genie erupts out of my next can of Bang Energy Drink, my first wish will be to eliminate this brand of thinking from existence. Passing other ski areas to ski Saddleback is not like passing a McDonald’s at exit 100 to eat at a McDonald’s at exit 329, more than 200 miles down the road. You’re passing a number of distinct and unique ski areas to experience another distinct and unique ski area. A Saddleback run will imprint on your experience in a way that your 400th day at Waterville Valley will not.

Not all of us, I realize, are so driven by novelty and the unknown. To many of you, turns are turns. Yee-haw. But I’m not suggesting you drive four hours out of your way to lap a town ropetow. This is a serious mountain, with terrain that has few peers in New England. It is special, and it is most definitely worth it.

Podcast Notes

On the ski area’s battle with the National Park Service

Quimby and I had a long discussion on Saddleback’s 15-plus-year war with the National Park Service over former owner Donald Breen’s expansion plans. While Saddleback sits on private land, the Appalachian Trail runs over the mountain’s summit, giving the government a say in any development that may impact the trail. As with most things New England, New England Ski History provides a comprehensive synopsis of what amounts to Saddleback’s lost generation:

With Saddleback finally financially stable and controlling 12,000 acres of land, Breen sought to tap into its vast potential in the mid 1980s. In 1984, Breen told Ski magazine, "Saddleback has the potential to be one of the largest resorts in this part of the country" and could become "the Vail of the East."

While a massive development was possible, including above treeline skiing as well as a bowl on the back side of the mountain, initial plans were made for a phased $36 million expansion "opening up the entire bowl where the ski area sits with three more lifts and numerous trails."

Working to gain approvals, Saddleback offered to donate a 200-foot easement to the National Park Service for the Appalachian Trail while retaining the ability to have skiers and equipment cross the corridor if needed. Countering the ski area's plans, the National Park Service recommended taking 3,000 acres of Saddleback's land. As a result, instead of investing in the mountain, Breen was forced to spend large sums of money to defend his property from eminent domain.

Attempting to break the impasse in the early 1990s, Saddleback offered to pare back expansion plans and sell 2,000 acres to the National Park Service. The National Park Service responded with an offer for one sixth of the amount Saddleback wanted from the property.

By the mid 1990s, Saddleback was offering to donate 300 acres of land to the National Park Service, while retaining the right to cross the Appalachian Trail with connector ski trails. The National Park Service once again refused, sticking with its eminent domain plan. Later Congressional testimony revealed that the Breen family was forced to negotiate with and give concessions to the Appalachian Trail Conference, only to have the agreements retracted by the National Park Service. In addition, the National Park Service would refuse to turn over documents relating to its involvement with other ski areas, or to put parameters of potential agreements in writing.

After having spent a decade and a half of his life trying to work with the Forest Service, Donald Breen took a step back from negotiations in 1997, handing the reins over to his daughter Kitty. The Maine Congressional Delegation was brought in to attempt to get the National Park Service to negotiate.

At Senator Olympia Snowe's urging, Saddleback offered to sell the bowl on the back side of the mountain to the Park Service in exchange for being able to develop its Horn Bowl area. The National Park Service rejected the offer, insisting the expansion was not viable, that the ski area could sustain increased skier visits on its existing footprint, and that Saddleback's undeveloped land had little financial value.

Negotiations continued into 2000, at which point Saddleback had increased its donation offer to 660 acres, while the National Park Service still wanted to take 893 acres by eminent domain. Five proposals were put on the table while the National Park Service threatened to turn the matter over to the Department of Justice for condemnation. Finally, on November 2, 2000, the National Park Service and Saddleback reached a deal in which the Breens donated 570 acres along the Appalachian Trail corridor, while selling the 600 acre back bowl for $4 million. While the deal meant Breen could move forward with his development of the resort, the long battle with the government had consumed millions of dollars and nearly two decades of his life. Now in his 70s, Breen was ready to retire. In 2001, the massive resort property was put on the market for $12 million.

To understand just how deeply this conflict stalled the ski area’s potential evolution, consider this: when Breen and the Forest Service squared off in 1984, Sunday River, less than two hours away and closer to pretty much everyone, looked like this:

And Saddleback looked like this:

While both had just five lifts – Sunday River sported a triple, two doubles, and two T-bars; Saddleback had two doubles and three T-bars – Saddleback was the larger of the two, with a more interesting and complex trail network. But while Breen fought the Forest Service, his mountain stood still. Meanwhile, Les Otten went ballistic at Sunday River, stringing terrain pods for miles in each direction. By 2001, when Breen sold, Sunday River looked like this:

While Saddleback had languished:

Whatever market share Saddleback could have earned during New England’s Great Ski Area Modernization – which more or less exactly coincided with his Forest Service fight from 1984 to 2001 – was lost to Sunday River and Sugarloaf, both of which spent that era building rather than fighting.

And yes, I also thought, “well what did Sugarloaf look like in 1984 and 2001?” So here you go:

On the Berry family

Breen sold Saddleback in 2001 to the Berry family, who absolutely mainlined cash into the joint. Over the next decade, the family replaced the upper (Kennebago) and lower (Buggy) T-bars with fixed-grip quads, and substantially blew out the trail and glade network. Check the place in 2014:

But two big problems remained. First, that double chair marked “C” on the map above is the Rangeley lift, the alpha chair out of the base. It was a 1963 Mueller that could move all of 900 skiers per hour. And while skiers could have ridden Sandy to the Cupsuptic T-bar (if both were running), to the Pass trail to access the Kennebago quad and the upper mountain, that’s not how most people think. They want to go straight to the top. So they’d wait.

Which leads to the second problem. Queueing up for a double chair that was pulled off of Noah’s Ark when you could be skiing onto high-speed (or at least modern) lifts just down the road at Sunday River or Sugarloaf is frustrating. Lines to board the lift could reportedly stretch to an hour on weekends. Facing such gridlock and frustration, most casual skiers who stumbled onto the place probably thought some version of, “This is cute, but next weekend, I’m going to Sunday River.”

And they did. If the Berrys could have upgraded Rangeley, the whole project may have worked. But financing fell through, as Quimby details in the podcast, and the ski area closed shortly after. But to underscore just how crucial the Rangeley lift is to Saddleback’s viability as a modern resort, Arctaris, the current owners, reportedly paid more to replace the chairlift ($7 million), than they did for the ski area itself ($6.5 million).

On potential buyers between the Berrys and Arctaris

Quimby notes that a parade of suitors tromped through Saddleback between 2015, when the ski area closed, and 2020, when it finally re-opened. The most significant of these was Australia-based Majella Group, whose courtship New England Ski History summarizes:

On June 28, 2017, the Berry family announced they had reached an agreement to sell Saddleback to the Australia-based Majella Group. Grandiose plans were announced, as Majella declared it would be "turning Saddleback into the premier ski resort in North America." Initial plans called for reopening for the 2017-18 season with a new fixed-grip quad replacing the Rangeley Double and a new Cupsuptic T-Bar. However, despite announcements that "physical work" had started in September and that the company was "committed to opening in some capacity for the 2017-18 ski season," the area remained idle that winter and the sale was not completed.

Nearly one year after the original sale announcement, the Majella Group CEO Sebastian Monsour was arrested in Australia for alleged investor fraud, revealing a financial house of cards. The Majella branding was removed from the Saddleback web site that fall and the ski area sat idle during the snowy winter of 2018-19.

So things could have been much worse. Had Majella completed the purchase and then fallen apart, Saddleback would likely still be idle, caught in a Jay Peak-esque vortex of court-led asset salvation, but without the benefit of operating revenue.

On Mount Washington

Quimby notes that the weather at Saddleback can be “comparative to Mount Washington and that’s no joke.” For those of you unfamiliar with just how ferocious Mount Washington weather can be, here’s a synopsis from the Mt. Washington State Park website (emphasis mine):

…in winter, sub-zero temperatures, hurricane-force winds, blowing snow and incredible ice claim the peak, creating an arctic outpost in a temperate climate zone. Known as the Home of the World’s Worst Weather, Mount Washington’s winter conditions rival those of Mount Everest and the Polar regions.

The mountain’s summit holds the world record for the “highest surface wind speed ever observed by man,” at 231 miles per hour. As I write this, the summit temperature is 4 degrees Fahrenheit, with 62-mile-per-hour winds driving the windchill to 28 degrees below zero. It’s April 2.

There’s surely some hyperbole in Quimby’s statement, but the spirit of the declaration is clear: if you go to Saddleback, go prepared.

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 30/100 in 2023, and number 416 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

This podcast hit paid subscribers’ inboxes on April 3. It dropped for free subscribers on April 6. To receive future pods as soon as they’re live, and to support independent ski journalism, please consider an upgrade to a paid subscription. You can also subscribe for free below:

Who

David Dziuban, Owner and General Manager of Whitecap Mountains, Wisconsin

Recorded on

March 13, 2023

About Whitecap Mountains

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: David Dziuban

Located in: Upson, Wisconsin

Year founded: 1964

Pass affiliations: Indy Pass Allied Partner

Reciprocal partners: Whitecap lists the following partners on its season pass page - it is not clear what the benefit is for each mountain: Grand Targhee, Wild Mountain, Mount Bohemia, Sunlight, Camp 10, Lee Canyon, Arizona Snowbowl, Lee Canyon, Mont du Lac.

Closest neighboring ski areas: Mt. Zion (28 minutes), Big Powderhorn (34 minutes), Snowriver (40 minutes), Mt. Ashwabay (1 hour, 15 minutes), Porcupine Mountains (1 hour, 21 minutes)

Base elevation: 1,295 feet

Summit elevation: 1,750 feet

Vertical drop: 455 feet

Skiable Acres: 400 acres

Average annual snowfall: 200 inches

Trail count: 42 (4 expert, 12 advanced, 12 intermediate, 14 beginner)

Lift count: 6 (4 doubles, 1 triple, 1 carpet) – the North Pole-South Pole double functions as two separate chairs, even though it is one long continuous lift. Skiers are not allowed to ride on the middle section, which passes over a long valley. The carpet was not yet functional for the 2022-23 ski season. Whitecap has an additional triple chair that is currently dormant, but which Dziuban intends to resurrect.

Here is Whitecap’s current trailmap:

However, I far prefer this older version, which is my favorite trailmap of all time:

Why I interviewed him

Our ski areas exist where they do for a reason. That rare mix of hills, reliable precipitation, wintertime cold, a near-enough population, a road to get there. Slopes steep enough but not too steep. Water nearby. Someone with enough cash to run chairlifts up the incline and enough brains to put the whole operation together into a viable business.

There are fewer geographic bullseyes of this sort than you may suppose. Look carefully at the map of U.S. ski areas – they are mostly clustered around a few-dozen rarified climate zones. Lake-effect bands or mountain spines or high-altitude nests resting at a desert’s edge. Several dozen have been force-born around large cold-weather cities, of course, bulldozed into existence where cold and water abound but hills are lacking.

We all know the epicenters upon which Epic and Ikon have anchored their empires: the Wasatch, Tahoe, the I-70 corridor, the Vermont Spine. But smaller, less celebrated-by-the-masses clusters dot the continent. The Interstate 90 corridor from 49 Degrees North and Mt. Spokane through Schweitzer, Silver Mountain, and Lookout Pass. Mt. Hood, one mountain that is home to four ski areas. Northern New Mexico, where half a dozen ski areas surround the fabled Taos.

One of the most reliable of these micro-snowzones is Big Snow Country, a hilly wilderness straddling the border of northern Wisconsin and Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. There, seated west-to-east, are four – once five – ski areas: Whitecap Mountains, Mt. Zion, Big Powderhorn, and Snowriver, which is a union of the once-separate Indianhead and Blackjack ski areas (now known as Jackson Creek Summit and Black River Basin). Seated fewer than a dozen miles above them, brooding and enormous, is Lake Superior, one of the most reliable lake-effect snowmachines on the planet:

So much of Midwest skiing is funky and improvisational, a tinkerer’s paradise, where the same spirit that animated 20th century factories willed one of the world’s great ski cultures into existence. There are not many hills around Milwaukee or Minneapolis or Detroit, but there are plenty of ski areas. The people of the Midwest do as they please. But the ski areas of Big Snow Country are different. There is so much skiing here because the terrain and the climate seemed sculpted exactly for it.

As a result, the skiing is genuinely sublime. The great tension here is the opposite problem that most of the region’s mobbed ski areas face: great skiing, too few skiers. Big Snow Country is far from pretty much everything. Four hours from Minneapolis, five from Milwaukee, six-and-a-half from Chicago. Residents of those cities can reach Park City or Keystone faster than their Midwest neighbors.

So what to do? For decades, these four (or five), ski areas have struggled to pin themselves to skiers’ to-do lists. Mt. Zion, the smallest of the bunch, is a protectorate of Gogebic Community College, which hosts one of the nation’s only programs on ski area management. Indianhead and Blackjack cycled through generations of owners and were finally combined and then sold, last year, to Charles Skinner, owner of the sprawling Granite Peak and Lutsen ski areas in Wisconsin and Minnesota. Skinner, who transformed Granite from a faltering backwater into one of the Midwest’s top ski areas, is already slinging a high-speed sixer up the hillside at Snowriver and will surely connect the two ski areas within a few years. That leaves Big Powderhorn and Whitecap with a problem.

How to respond? Powderhorn has at least enjoyed stable management and a loyal customer base. Whitecap, however, has struggled. Decades of deferred maintenance pushed skiers away. A 2019 lodge fire erased a crucial piece of infrastructure that has yet to be replaced. The advent, in the region, of the Epic, Ikon, and Indy Passes – not to mention a modernized Granite Peak, two hours closer to pretty much everything, and an unhinged and dirt-cheap Mount Bohemia, not so far to the north – has only clouded Whitecap’s market position.

David Dziuban arrived at the ski area in 2016, and slowly took control over the next few years. It was a period of personal tragedy for him. As soon as he took full ownership, the fire hit. It would have been enough to make anyone surrender. But Dziuban has found in Whitecap both salvation and mission. This place, so naturally blessed, has the bones to be one of the Midwest’s great ski areas. But it needs a push, a pull, a shove into our current moment. Dziuban is the guy to provide all three.

What we talked about

A snowy Wisconsin winter; Whitecap’s unique trail footprint; the great Midwest ski factory; a single sentence in a Wilmot liftline that changed Dziuban’s life; a wild scheme to score a first job as a snowmaker at Plumtree, Illinois; turning down a job at Killington to work at scrappy Magic Mountain; Magic in the ‘80s; making Magic’s Timberside connection; Mt. Tom, Massachusetts; homemade snowmaking; Elk Mountain, the hidden gem of Pennsylvania; a rigged splice gone wrong; Whitecap, lost in the wilderness; first impressions of a run-down and lightly used Whitecap; the long and convoluted process of taking ownership of the resort; balancing personal trauma and loss with the mission of revitalizing the ski area; taming the local homeowners’ entitlement; fire levels the lodge; why Whitecap opened the next day and why it was so vital that it did; plans for a new lodge; Whitecap’s huge development potential; why the ski area hasn’t set up the new conveyor lift it purchased last year; snowmaking; assessing Whitecap’s unique lift fleet; where we could see a new lift at Whitecap; thoughts on the long chair (North Pole/South Pole); getting the CTEC lift running again; “I want to remain affordable to everybody”; why Whitecap launched a $295 (now $325) season pass and how that product has been selling; the surprise response from a one-day season passholder reciprocal deal with Mount Bohemia; thoughts on the Indy Pass and the Allied program; and that Whitecap aura.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

Not to repeat myself, but allow me to repeat myself. A skier living in the Upper Midwest currently enjoys the following options for full-season skiing:

* Purchase a $676 Epic Local Pass, which delivers turns all season at Wilmot or Afton Alps, plus basically unlimited options for runs west to Colorado, Utah, Tahoe, and Whistler.

* Purchase an $829 Ikon Pass and forgo Midwest skiing altogether, hopping frequent flights to Denver and Salt Lake City from major hub airport Minneapolis-St. Paul (MSP).

* Purchase a $329 Indy Pass for two days each at major ski areas across the region, including some of the best and most-developed in Minnesota and Wisconsin: Granite Peak, Lutsen, Spirit Mountain, and, perhaps most significantly for Whitecap, its neighbors Big Powderhorn and Snowriver (both of which are in Michigan).

* Purchase a local season pass at any of dozens of ski areas that sit within 30 minutes of downtown Minneapolis, Madison, or Milwaukee.

* Scratch the gnar itch with a $109 ($99 if you can forego Saturdays), season pass to Mount Bohemia, the ungroomed natural-snow mecca hanging off the top of the UP. The pass includes reciprocal days at ski areas throughout the Midwest and the West.

So, what does Whitecap do? First, control what you can: fix the beat-up lift fleet, improvise a lodge, bring stability to its operations. Dziuban has checked off that list. Second, modernize: rebuild the lodge, build out snowmaking (the current system consists of fewer than half a dozen guns), re-activate the mothballed triple chair. All of this is in progress. But there’s something else: how does a ski area set itself apart in a region dense with ski areas but not with skiers? What is the story it’s going to tell? Dziuban has a good one, and it’s one every skier in the region ought to hear.

What I got wrong

I noted that Whitecap had “360-degree exposure,” when it in fact has slopes primarily facing just three directions: west, north, and south.

Why you should ski Whitecap Mountains

In February, I flew into Minneapolis for a five-day Upper Midwest ski tour, making me perhaps the only person this century to travel from New York to Minnesota on purpose to ski. At least that was my conclusion from multiple chairlift conversations with befuddled locals. I swung through 11 ski areas: Welch Village, Afton Alps, Granite Peak, Nordic Mountain, Snowriver, Big Powderhorn, Mt. Zion, Whitecap, Spirit Mountain, Trollhaugen, and Buck Hill. Each was unique and memorable, in the way that every ski area is. But one resonated with me more than the others: Whitecap.

I have visited hundreds of ski areas, all over the world. There is nothing quite like Whitecap. It’s an enchanting place. Sprawling and gorgeous. Narrow paths wound through woods, leading into and around broad meadows, glades everywhere, all of it knitted together in a Zelda-like sprawl primed for exploration. While the vertical drop is small, the place is multilayered and complex. It is one of the few ski areas where I have ever felt legitimately lost. I took 27 runs and still didn’t see half the place.

Also: there was no one else there. Granted, it was a Wednesday. But coverage was excellent: 100 percent open. I skied that day with Jacob, Whitecap’s grooming ace, a Telluride refugee who had carpeted a shocking breadth of acreage overnight before meeting me to ski. He kept telling his friends from Colorado that they had to move here, he told me. The pace was slower, and he could afford to live. He’d given up finding anything affordable near Telluride, and had instead commuted in from a desert campervan colony hours away. He’d had enough, come back east, back home, with his campervan and his dog. He didn’t see any reason to return to Colorado. Yes, the skiing there is amazing, but the skiing is good here, too, and the stresses of daily life had evaporated. He now lived in the hotel. His commute to the snowcat was a few dozen steps. This was a life that was pleasant, and sustainable. As Western mountain-town life became untenable, places like Big Snow Country, with reliable snow and lower costs for everything, would become more attractive to those who wanted to make skiing central to their lives, he said.

I’m not saying you should move to Whitecap. But you should visit. Everyone should ski the Midwest at least once. Just to understand what it is, this machine that churns out so many of the nation’s most passionate skiers. And when you do go, make sure Whitecap is on your tour.

Podcast Notes

On Plumtree, Illinois

Dziuban’s ski career began at Plumtree, a 210-vertical-foot landfill bump in Illinois. Here’s the 1978 trailmap:

On the podcast, I said that I wasn’t sure if the place was still operating. Its website states that the ski area is “closed for renovations,” and I believe that has been its status for at least as long as I’ve tracked season passes nationally (three seasons). I’m trying to confirm that. Even if it does re-open, it looks as though the place is just a residents’ amenity for whatever gated community it sits in. Here’s a bit more on the joint, per skibum.net:

Former public area, Plumtree is now a private club for Lake Carroll property owners, guests, etc. Aging equipment, wide open bowls, decent place. Look up “typical skiing in the Midwest” and you’ll find Plumtree Ski Area. Wish there were more Plumtrees open to the general public.

On Magic Mountain

Dziuban spent several years at Magic Mountain, Vermont. He was there from the mid-80s to the early ‘90s, a period that included the interlink with the lost Timber Ridge ski area on the backside of Glebe Mountain. Here’s what they looked like connected:

These days, skiers are still allowed to traverse from Magic over to “Timberside,” which is privately owned, and ski down. They have to find their own way back to Magic, however, as the Timber Ridge lifts are long gone.

On the Wine Hut

Follow the trails skier’s left of the Midway double chair, and you’ll sweep past the Wine Hut on your way to the loading station. It’s one of the Midwest’s cooler après joints, though I’ll admit that I did not sample the goods on the February Wednesday I stopped in.

On the North Pole/South Pole double

Whitecap is home to one of the most amazing lifts in America - an up-and-over Hall double that serves as two separate lifts - the North Pole double and the South Pole double. Skiers are not allowed to ride across the middle section, which soars more than 125 feet over the meadow between the two top stations - with no restraint bar. I snagged this video standing beneath the midsection:

And here’s a still pic from the valley floor - note the tower hoisted onto the steel lift:

Here’s a view looking from the North Pole side across the valley to the South Pole:

Going up South Pole:

On Whitecap’s dormant triple chair

A seemingly abandoned lift terminal sits on Whitecap’s summit, the head of a skeleton that follows a liftline down the mountain.

This lift, said Dziuban, is actually not dead yet. He’s already fabricated some parts necessary to restore the 1991 CTEC triple to a functional state, as he explains in the podcast.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 31/100 in 2023, and number 417 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

This podcast hit paid subscribers’ inboxes on April 7. It dropped for free subscribers on April 10. To receive future pods as soon as they’re live, and to support independent ski journalism, please consider an upgrade to a paid subscription. You can also subscribe for free below:

Who

Jody Churich, Vice President and Chief Operating Officer of Breckenridge, Colorado

Recorded on

March 27, 2023

About Breckenridge

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Vail Resorts

Located in: Breckenridge, Colorado

Year founded: 1961

Pass affiliations: Unlimited on Epic Pass, Epic Local Pass; limited access on Summit Value Pass (holiday blackouts), Keystone Plus Pass (unlimited access after April 1), Tahoe Local Pass (5 days shared with Vail, Beaver Creek, Keystone, Crested Butte, Park City)

Closest neighboring ski areas: Frisco Adventure Park (15 minutes), Copper Mountain (25 minutes), Keystone (25 minutes), Arapahoe Basin (30 minutes), Loveland (38 minutes), Ski Cooper (1 hour, 5 minutes) – travel times can vary considerably pending traffic and weather

Base elevation: 9,600 feet

Summit elevation: 12,998 feet

Vertical drop: 3,398 feet

Skiable Acres: 2,908

Average annual snowfall: 350 inches

Trail count: 187

Lift count: 35 (1 gondola, 5 six-packs, 7 high-speed quads, 1 triple, 6 doubles, 3 platters, 1 T-bar, 11 carpets) – Breckenridge plans to replace 5-Chair, a 1970 Riblet double, with a high-speed quad this summer.

Why I interviewed her

The audacity of it all. Many ski areas reach. Breck soars. Above the town, above the Pacific Ocean-sized parking lots, above the twisty-road condos and mansions, above the frantic base areas and trail-cut high-alpine - there lie the bowls, sweeping one after the next, southeast to northwest, across the range. Chairlifts, improbably, magnificently, will take you there. Or most of the way, at least. Kensho Superchair – a six-pack, rolls up to 12,302 feet, to the doorstep of Peak 6 – it’s a short hike to the tippy top, at 12,573 feet. But Kensho is holding Imperial Superchair’s beer, as that monster climbs to 12,840, just 158 feet shy of the 12,998-foot summit of Peak 8.

Why don’t they go all the way to the summit? Why do you think? Listen to the podcast to get the answer, or go there for yourself and see how those wild winds hit you at the top – or close enough to the top – of America.

The Brobots have plenty to say about Breck, Texas North, Intermediate Mountain. A-Basin is where the Summit County steeps live, don’t you know? There’s some truth to that, but it’s a narrative fed by bravado and outdated information. Breck’s high-alpine chairs – Imperial in 2005 and Kensho in 2013 – have trenched easy access to vast realms of gut-punching terrain. Beat your chest all you will – the only way out is straight down.

Breck is one of the most complete resorts in America, is my point here. And that didn’t happen by accident. Since Vail took ownership of the joint in 1997, the company has deliberately, steadily, almost constantly improved it. Sixteen new lifts, including the inbound 5-Chair upgrade (Breck will swap out a 53-year-old Riblet double for a new high-speed quad this summer); massive expansions onto Peaks 6 and 7; steady snowmaking and parking upgrades. If you want to understand Vail’s long-term intentions for its other 40 ski areas, look to the evolution of this, one of its original four resorts, over decades of always-better incremental upgrades.

Of course, plenty of people know that. Maybe too many. Breck is often – always? – America’s busiest resort by pure skier visits. It’s easy to access, easy to like, mostly – I said mostly Peak 10, E, 6 chairs – easy to ski if you stay below treeline. The town is the town, one of the great après hubs of North American skiing, thrumming, vibrant, a scene. Don’t go unless you want some company.

So what becomes of a place like Breck in a 21st century filled with existential questions about what lift-served skiing has become and what it is destined to be? How does a high-alpine but extremely accessible mountain adapt to its parent company’s insistence on dropping it onto the budget version of its ultra-affordable Epic Pass? Can the super-modern lifts that these pass sales fuel fix the liftlines that spoil the experience without overloading the trails in a way that spoils the experience? How can a town of 5,000 residents accommodate a daily influx of 17,000-ish skiers without compromising its bucolic essence that drew those visitors to begin with? And to what extent do even our highest ski areas need to fortify themselves against the worst outcomes of a changing climate with ever-more-aggressive snowmaking?

Every ski resort-blessed mountain town in the West is grappling with this same set of questions, but Breck, I-70 adjacent and Vail Resorts-bound, is perhaps the most high-profile among them. And where the town and the resort succeed or fail, they inform where our other icons will go. It’s a fascinating story, and we’re still in the book’s early chapters.

What we talked about

Unseasonable Colorado snow and cold; Breck’s strong 2022-23 ski season; how late the season could go and what could be available to ski; that California ski life; thoughts on Tahoe’s big season; Sierra-at-Tahoe’s fire recovery; Alpine Meadows in the pre-Powdr Corp ‘90s; why Alpine Meadows eventually dropped its snowboarding ban and what happened when it did; the early days of terrain parks; reaction when Powdr suddenly sold Alpine; how tiny Boreal and Soda Springs compete in a Tahoe market bursting with mega-resorts; the rise of Woodward; Vail’s ongoing efforts to promote women; leaving Powdr for Vail; Breck magic; four giant ski resorts, mere miles apart, but all distinct; the largest employee housing bed base in Vail Resorts portfolio; an assist with childcare; how a ski resort prepares for and responds to on-mountain fatalities; Breck’s “better not bigger” masterplan; nudging guests toward underutilized terrain; big plans for Peaks 8 and 9; upgrades on Freedom Superchair, Rip’s Ride, and 5-Chair; how a gondola could change Peak 9; a mid-mountain learning center; prioritizing upgrades for Peak 9’s 50-plus-year-old Riblet lifts; why Horseshoe T-bar is an unlikely candidate for an upgrade; why Kensho and Imperial Superchair don’t go to the very top of Breckenridge; the Peak 8 Super Connect chair detachment in December; how the resort determined that the chairlift was safe to run again; massive snowmaking upgrades and how these sync with Vail Resorts’ environmental goals; why Breck is only available on the top-tier Epic Day Pass, but is unlimited on the Epic Local Pass; and why Breck has remained on the Epic Local Pass.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

Late last year, Breck updated its masterplan, as all ski areas operating on U.S. Forest Service land are obliged to do every decade (or so, as it actually ends up working out). Themed “bigger, not better,” the masterplan amounted to a modernization blueprint to maximize the resort’s existing footprint with modern lifts and selective trail- and glade-cutting:

Breckenridge’s goal is to tame its wild peaks. “The structuring vision for the next 10 years at [Breckenridge] is ‘Better not Bigger,’” the master plan states. Noting that the resort’s “significant congestion … can diminish the guest experience,” Breck says that its “goal is not to increase overall skier and rider visits on or around peak days, but rather to concentrate on improving the guest experience and better managing visitation.” To accomplish this, the resort hopes to both better move skiers out of its base areas with more and better lifts, and to keep many of them on the upper mountains with a combination of better chairs and a subtly re-imagined trail network.

Here’s the overview:

And a more granular look at what would and would not change in the mountain’s massive lift network:

The full article is worth a read, as I went peak-by-peak and broke down the proposed changes to each, including upgrades to the snowmaking footprint :

So, what better time to discuss America’s most vibrant ski resort than at the moment when the folks running it just outlined their vision for the far future? Breck will be an important test case of the extent to which a high-profile flagship can climate-proof and crowd-proof itself in an era of climate uncertainty and megapass maximalism. If Breck can thrive without breaking itself and everything around it – including the town at its base, the county it sits in, and the big road that leads up from the flats – then 21st century skiing will follow, adapt, adjust.

Questions I wish I’d asked

Churich and I briefly discussed a skier death at Breckenridge from a few weeks ago. Per the Aspen Times:

An Illinois man clearing snow from his chairlift seat with the safety restraint up fell out and died at Breckenridge Ski Resort a week ago, the local sheriff’s office reported.

John Perucco, 60, of Elgin, Illinois, was pronounced dead March 17 at St. Anthony’s Summit Hospital in Frisco after the fall, the Summit County Coroner’s Office said in an email. He was reportedly wearing a helmet when he fell from the lift.

He had not yet reached Tower 1 of Zendo Chair when he fell 25 feet and landed on a hard-packed, groomed trail below, according to the Summit County Sheriff’s Office. The department was reportedly notified around 11:20 a.m. of a death at the emergency room.

What I would have liked to explore a bit more was the issue of the raised safety bar. This is something I’ve thought a lot about lately. In New England and New York, all of the lifts have safety bars, and most skiers use them most of the time. Their use is required by law in several states, including Vermont, New York, and Massachusetts – patrollers and lift attendants often aggressively pressure skiers who don’t lower them. If you load a lift with strangers and you’re not prepared, you’re liable to be conked in the head by a down-coming bar – Easterners’ etiquette around this is abysmal, as it’s polite to at least call out, “coming down.”

In the Midwest and the West, bar use is much spottier. Forget the Midwest, where modern lifts are rare and most of the old ones have not been retrofit with bars. But skiing’s money is in the West, where most major lifts at most major resorts have been upgraded to detachables, which all have bars. I get a lot of passive-aggressive irritation when I lower the bar (with warning, of course), particularly in Utah and Colorado. This has always puzzled me. What’s the resistance? I’m aware of the NSAA research casting doubt on the efficacy of bar use – I’m skeptical, as there is no way to tell how many accidents have been prevented by a lowered bar.

Anyway, there is a cultural resistance to chairlift bar usage in the western United States that, as far as I can tell, is unique to the world’s major ski cultures. Vail, for its part, retrofits all of its inherited chairlifts with safety bars. So does Alterra. Vail requires its employees to use them at all times. Alterra allows each mountain to set its own policies (Palisades Tahoe and Solitude, for example, require bar use for employees).

I want to dig into this more, to understand both why this resistance exists and why it persists, despite the proliferation of modern chairlifts. It’s a bigger story than can be explored in a single anecdote, and hopefully it’s one I can write about more this offseason. Will this resistance fade, as once-ubiquitous helmet resistance has? Or is this skiing’s version of a cultural wedge issue, set to divide the tourists from the locals in an escalating game of Who Belongs Here?

What I got wrong

* I said that 10 of Vail Resorts’ 41 ski areas were currently led by women. The correct number, at the time of recording, was nine out of 41. Here’s a complete list (several of Vail’s ski areas share a regional general manager: Boston Mills, Brandywine, and Alpine Valley in Ohio; Jack Frost and Big Boulder in Pennsylvania; and Seven Springs, Hidden Valley, and Laurel in Pennsylvania). With yesterday’s news that Beaver Creek COO Nadia Guerriero would move up to VP/COO of the Rockies Region (replacing Bill Rock, who was promoted to head of Vail’s Mountain Division), that number is now eight, I suppose. But who knows how Vail will stir up its mountain leadership team over the summer.

* I also named off all the large ski areas around Lake Tahoe, to give context to Churich’s challenge running tiny Soda Springs and Boreal in that realm of monsters. The only thousand-plus-footer I missed in that riff is Homewood, but here’s a complete list of Tahoe-region ski areas. It really is amazing how these smaller spots exist (and seem to thrive), alongside some of the nation’s largest and most-developed resorts:

* Churich and I also discussed what I referred to as “Vail’s new app” for the 2023-24 ski season. Its official name will be the My Epic app, and it should be a considerable upgrade from Epic Mix. The app will be your Epic Pass (no more RFID card unless you still want one), and will feature interactive trailmaps, real-time liftline wait times, operational updates, blackout date info on your pass, weather updates, resort charge, and more.

Why you should ski Breckenridge

Because you kind of have to. Trying to navigate life as a U.S. American skier without skiing Breck is kind of like trying to go through life without hearing a Taylor Swift song. It’s there whether you want it or not. Even if you’re in the habit of driving past to hit the Eagle County resorts, or you prefer A-Basin or Copper, or you avoid the I-70 corridor altogether, eventually your cousin or your boys from college or your aunt Phyllis is going to plan a spring break trip or a bachelor party or a family Christmas get-together at Breck, and you’re going to go.

And you’re going to like it. This is not the busiest ski area in America by accident. It’s a damn good ski mountain, even if it has more people and fewer steeps and less snow than some of its high-profile ski-biz peers. Yes, liftlines at Peaks 8 and 9 can test your patience at key times. And, yes, the intermediate superhighways can accumulate interstate-esque traffic. But it only takes a little creativity to find quiet glades off Peak 10 and 6-Chair and E-Chair, and tucked between the groomers off every other peak. As with any big western resort, you can follow the crowds or you can follow your skis. The kind of day you have once you stand up and push off the top of the lift is entirely up to you.

Podcast Notes

I’ve hosted several other Colorado-based Vail Resorts leaders on the podcast over the past year. While Bill Rock and Nadia Guerriero have recently moved positions, these conversations are largely still relevant:

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing all year long. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 32/100 in 2023, and number 418 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

This podcast hit paid subscribers’ inboxes on April 20. It dropped for free subscribers on April 23. To receive future pods as soon as they’re live, and to support independent ski journalism, please consider an upgrade to a paid subscription. You can also subscribe for free below:

Who

Todd Bennett, President and Chief Operating Officer of Deer Valley Resort, Utah

Recorded on

April 19, 2023

About Deer Valley

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Alterra Mountain Company

Located in: Park City, Utah

Year founded: 1981

Pass affiliations: 7 unrestricted days on Ikon Pass, five days with blackouts on Ikon Base Pass Plus

Reciprocal partners: Unlimited Deer Valley season passholders receive one day each at Alta, Brighton, and Snowbird

Closest neighboring ski areas: Park City Mountain Resort (5 minutes), Utah Olympic Park (18 minutes), Woodward Park City (20 minutes), Solitude (1 hour), Snowbird (1 hour), Brighton (1 hour, 8 minutes), Alta (1 hour, 8 minutes) – travel times vary considerably with weather and traffic; if U.S. Americans could summon a worldview that extends beyond their dashboards, they would understand that this entire megaplex could be connected with a handful of gondolas, reducing traffic and emissions in the Wasatch by about 40 billion percent.

Base elevation: 6,570 feet at Jordanelle base

Summit elevation: 9,570 feet at top of Empire

Vertical drop: 3,000 feet, though this cannot be skied contiguously – the longest high-quality continuous vertical drops are on Bald Mountain, at around 1,750 vertical feet.

Skiable Acres: 2,026

Average annual snowfall: 300 inches

Trail count: 103

Lift count: 27 (1 six-passenger gondola, 14 high-speed quads, 5 triples, 1 double, 1 platter serving private homes, 5 conveyors)

Deer Valley’s trailmap is a little confusing, as it looks as though you can ski from the top of Empire to the bottom of Jordanelle. The resort sits on a series of adjacent hillocks, however, which you can see on this topographic map on ikonpass.com:

Why I interviewed him

There’s a version of reality in which Deer Valley is nothing special. A 2,000-ish-acre bump neighboring Park City, which sprawls more than three times as large. A 300-inch bucket of snow standing meekly against the 500-inch-plus dumptrucks stacking up each winter in the nearby Cottonwoods. Three thousand feet of vertical is compelling, but you can’t ski it all at once, like you can at Snowbird or Park City. Deer Valley could be the Pico of Utah, a pretty good ski area made average by its address among amazing ski areas.

But that’s not how we view the place, because that’s not what Deer Valley is. Deer Valley is an Alterra flagship, so singular that it is the only one of the company’s 16 ski areas excluded from the Ikon Base Pass. The mountain’s $2,890 season pass is the most expensive in America. It has landed in the top three of Ski Magazine’s reader resort rankings for 25 consecutive seasons.

Why? Why is this place so exceptional, so expensive and yet so treasured? Go ahead and list the superficial and the obvious: a fleet of groomers expansive enough to invade Newfoundland, 14 high-speed quads, ski valets, staff to escort your skis onto snow like a prized dachshund. It’s still not so obvious why DV is it. The armada of high-speed lifts, once so novel, are standard-issue Wasatch utilities now. Even Alta has them. Every large ski area grooms widely and well. And slopeside ski check is not so rare as to be a differentiator. At least not in 2023. There are lots of fancy ski areas. Sun Valley would gladly throw down in a groom-off. You could coronate the next queen of England in a Snowbasin bathroom stall. And Beaver Creek gives you a warm cookie at the end of the day. Match that, Deer Valley.

So there is something more subtle than lifts and grooming going on here. Something that has transcended generations of owners and survived the oft-rough entry into corporate Skidom. The place has an essence. Something as pronounced as Little Cottonwood chest-thumping or parkbrah tumbling over Brighton kickers or party-town Park City. Something fiercely distinct yet hard to define.

Have you ever visited the Palace of Versailles? A sprawling and ornate palace rising off 2,500 acres of immaculate grounds a few miles outside of Paris. Built for royals, it is now open to all. To tour the place is to feel both humbled and empowered. Here is this triumph of the human imagination, actualized into a thing too spectacular to comprehend. Yet plain old you can wander and wonder and admire and absorb. And skiing Deer Valley is a little bit like that. Like stumbling into a palace of skiing, unsure what you’re looking at, but amazed at the whole scene.

What we talked about

Doubling Deer Valley’s average annual snowfall; extending the season and why April 23 will be the last day; what it’s like to live among all that snow every single day; where Deer Valley has to do avalanche mitigation; New York ski roots; Vail Mountain in the ‘90s; the vast options for the SoCal skier; how a 20-year career at Disney led to a job running one of America’s best ski resorts; how Disney Bro resembles Ski Bro; the making of The Man Behind the Maps: Legendary Ski Artist James Niehues; how the book was born out of luck at Tamarack, Idaho; blowing away expectations on Kickstarter; why Alterra treats Deer Valley differently than its other resorts from an Ikon Pass access standpoint; going deep on Burns Express; why Deer Valley reoriented the liftline uphill and how that’s changed the skier flow on the mountain; the thrill of flying towers; the reconfigured Snowflake lift; why Burns is and likely always will be more of a transit lift; auto-down restraint bars are here; you’re probably raising the safety bar too early; why Burns got the upgrade before any of Deer Valley’s older high-speed quads; Deer Valley’s huge base-area redevelopment plans; the higher-capacity lifts that could replace the Carpenter and Silver Lake high-speed quads; employee housing; why a base area development isn’t necessarily a play for more skier visits; which lifts could be in line for upgrades next; whether Deer Valley would consider upgrading any of its fixed-grip triples; why there isn’t a ski connection between Deer Valley and Park City, even though they meet at Empire; a potential Deer Valley connection with the rising Mayflower resort; the impact of removing Deer Valley from the Ikon Base Pass; the surprising number of daily lift tickets that Deer Valley still sells, even at $250-plus; and why the resort continues to ban snowboarding.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

Deer Valley spent their offseason planting this beauty on the mountainside:

The 190-vertical-foot Doppelmayr high-speed quad was the cornerstone Deer Valley’s re-imagined Snow Park beginner terrain. Last year, the small terrain pod looked like this:

The old Burns lift, a Yan double that dated to the resort’s 1981 opening, ran straight up the fall line. It paralleled the shorter Snowflake lift, which loaded halfway up the trail. A series of magic carpets sat below Snowflake.

That’s all changed. Old Burns is gone, clearing a beginner-friendly skiway. Deer Valley used parts from Burns to lengthen Snowflake all the way to the base. They then moved the existing carpets looker’s left, along the old Burns line. A series of four progression carpets now climb the incline.

New Burns serves an entirely different purpose from Old Burns. Rather than simply hauling beginners up Wide West, as the old lift did, it transports them up to the Deer Hollow trail, which they can then ski down to Mountaineer Express to access the Little Baldy Peak pod. Prior to this change, beginners had no easy way to access Little Baldy – they had to either ride the Carpenter high-speed quad to the summit of Bald Eagle Mountain and take the Big Stick and Little Stick trails to Deer Hollow; ride Silver Lake Express and ski down to the Crown Point triple and then up to blue-square Kimberly and green-circle Navigator; or catch a ride over to the Jordanelle ticket office and ride the gondola up. Mostly, they didn’t do that, and since that terrain holds less appeal to more advanced skiers, it was largely underutilized.

Bennett admitted that New Burns is mostly a transit lift to get skiers up to the Little Baldy terrain. Skiers can lap Gnat’s Eye, but it’s a narrow and not very interesting trail, and so most don’t. But as another brick in Palace DV, the lift accomplishes exactly what it’s supposed to. And it’s a gorgeous machine:

I suspect, however, that Burns is simply an anchor for Deer Valley’s far larger proposed redevelopment of its Snow Park Base area. Right now, skiers arrive to parking lots, as they do in most of U.S. America, and walk up to a handful of base buildings and a pair of high-speed quads. It’s an bland entrance to a remarkable ski resort:

Deer Valley would cover these parking lots with a ski-in-ski-out mixed-use village. Cars would go underground. Retail, restaurants, residences, and rental units would rise above pedestrian streets. Carpenter and Silver Lake would extend into the village, the former replaced by a new high-speed quad or six-pack, the latter by a gondola:

Here’s a clearer image of where the lifts could sit in relation to their current load points:

We’re a long way out from this transformation. The estimated project completion date is 2029. But this development would transform Deer Valley, infusing it with a sense of place beyond the trail footprint. The resort happens to reside in Park City, one of the liveliest ski towns in North America. For decades, Deer Valley has ceded streetlife to the municipality. But there’s no reason it has to. Like sister resorts Steamboat, Winter Park, Palisades Tahoe, and Crystal, the Wasatch fancypants is evolving into something better connected to the community around it and anchored in the current moment, in which we are at long last deprioritizing the personal vehicle and building people-first places that we can all enjoy.

What I got wrong

I noted that Park City Mountain Resort was “twice as large” as Deer Valley, but it’s actually quite a bit bigger: 7,300 acres to Deer Valley’s 2,026 – that’s 2.3 times as big.

Why you should ski Deer Valley

Yes groomers blah blah whatever. Honestly this is not a thing I care about when I travel West. But I do like this:

And this:

And this:

Not so much this, but it’s here if you’re psychotic:

No, it’s not Snowbird. But it’s Utah. The snow is light and fine. The trail network sprawls. If you can’t find something fun in 2,000 acres, the problem is not the mountain. Plus, look again at the trailmap – every peak has like four high-speed lifts stringing you to the top. The potential to rack vert here is amazing.

Podcast Notes

On the long season

Bennett and I briefly discussed a Snowbasin tweet calling out skiers for not showing up after the resort extended its season. Here it is:

On The Man Behind the Maps

If you’re reading this newsletter, there’s a better than 80 percent chance that someone has stuffed a copy of The Man Behind the Maps, a tome archiving the trailmap art of James Niehues, into your Christmas stocking at some point over the last four years. Bennett, as it turns out, was the muscle behind the book, reaching out to Niehues and convincing him to compile the work, then pulling together a global network to print and distribute it. If you’re not familiar with this work of art, check it out:

On Mayflower Resort

Did you know that a major new public U.S. ski resort is under construction at this moment? And that this resort will cover 4,300 acres on a 3,200-foot vertical drop served by 18 aerial lifts? And that this resort is exactly next door to Deer Valley? And that this is all amazingly getting absolutely no coverage while a couple of dingbats in Park City spin themselves into a hissyfit over Vail’s attempts to upgrade two chairlifts and a considerably larger contingent of dingbats fights the most serious attempt to untangle traffic in Little Cottonwood Canyon in decades by assaulting a gondola proposal as though they were defending the Alamo?

It’s true. It’s called Mayflower. Watch this video full of hyperbole that’s clearly made for people who know almost nothing about skiing to see for yourself:

That this is actually happening - that we are really about to have a brand-new, major ski resort in an over-skied slice of U.S. America that desperately needs more capacity - is a freaking miracle. Bennett and I don’t dig too deeply into this project, but we do discuss it in this context: when Mayflower goes live, there is a very good chance that Deer Valley could operate it. And if that happens, well, no snowboarding Brah. Because Deer Values or something. I’m not a fan of snowboarding bans, but I am a fan of building more ski resorts, so I’ll take the win.

On the lack of a Deer Valley/Park City ski Connection

You can ski between Snowbird and Alta, even though one is owned by Powdr Corp and the other is owned by a clandestine group of snow ninjas. You can ski between Brighton and Solitude, even though one is owned by Boyne Resorts and the other is owned by Alterra. But you cannot ski between Deer Valley and Park City, even if you have an Epic Pass and an Ikon Pass, even though they boundary up to one another on Empire Peak:

A patrol shack sits atop Empire, halting all who would pass. Locals call this the “Berlin Wall.” I’m not sure what the sense of it is. Deer Valley has done a pretty solid job of restricting ticket availability. I’m pretty sure the number of folks who would add on a DV ticket just for a few runs is nominal. However, there could be enormous environmental benefits to such a connection. When I was skiing Deer Valley, I had to take a long shuttle ride through congested weekend traffic both ways to ski half a day at Park City. Imagine if I could have eliminated two surface transit trips by simply skiing over the pass? Not that this would have eliminated these shuttles, necessarily, as other folks rode them as well, but if a critical mass of people decided to use skis and already-spinning lifts to move across the megaplex rather than surface transit, that could have a material impact on the town’s notorious congestion.

And imagine skiing all of this in one go:

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 37/100 in 2023, and number 423 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

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Who

Doug Fish, president and founder of the Indy Pass

Recorded on

The majority of this conversation took place on April 3, 2023. Three days later, I left for a Montana ski trip, with the intent of releasing this either on the trip or when I returned. A week later, however, news broke that Indy would (at least temporarily) cease pass sales for 2023-24 products on April 11, making a small portion of our conversation irrelevant. Fish and I then recorded a new segment focused specifically on the decision to halt pass sales, on April 20, 2023. This section also includes a recap of the top 10 Indy Pass resorts for the 2022-23 ski season.

About the Indy Pass

Indy Pass is the coolest thing going. If Indy were a person, everyone would gloss him “IP.” In the ‘80s, IP would have rolled in a Firebird with T-tops off and a flame-eagle emblazoned upon the hood. Or in a door-less Jeep with his boys gripping the rollbar, feathered-hair and sunglasses cool. Or rocking a skateboard, Walkman, and jean jacket, Michael J. Fox-style, transforming into a werewolf or traveling through time in a f*****g DeLorean. IP’s not the most popular kid. In fact the cool kids, in their poloshirts and loafers, don’t care much for the interloper at all. But we all see a bit of ourselves in the young rogue, middle finger aimed at the social-status gatekeepers and their lackies, flouting conventions of deference and sobriety, in possession of secret powers that will scare them once they know. IP is our hero because we are him. Or he’s a supercharged superhero cartoon version of us. Or because he is whatever the hell he wants to be. IP rules!

Or, if that doesn’t work for you, how about this: IP is a season-long ski product that delivers up to 210 days of alpine skiing for four dollars more than the price of a one-day walk-up peak-day lift ticket at Vail or Beaver Creek. “Yeah but it’s not Vail or Beaver Creek, Man – don’t you get that?” I sure do, Biff. And I love both mountains, but give me the choice of one serving of caviar or a pizza every day all season long, and I gotta roll pizza, my friend (this is the 2022-23 roster; ignore the prices, ignore the blackouts. The robots are still fighting my efforts to update this chart for 2023-24. The only ski area that we know will change as of now is Snow Valley, which ran off with the Ikon Pass):

More partners are inbound. Perhaps not as many as the 58 new ski areas (25 alpine, 19 cross-country, and 14 Allied), that signed onto Indy over the 2022 offseason. But I already have a partial list, and it will be at least a dozen. Perhaps many more as Indy looks to turboboost its XC roster.

Too bad you already missed the best price: $279 for renewing passholders, $299 for waitlistees, $319 for the disorganized masses. Indy is currently off sale. It may come back in the fall. How will you know? Subscribe to their notifications, and they will send you eight to 12 emails and texts per day about it once the time comes. In the meantime, activate learning mode and enjoy this IP 101.

Why I interviewed him

Doug Fish is one of skiing’s class acts. He’s built a product that works. For skiers, for ski area operators, and for him and everyone working for him. This is not Liftopia 2.0, an online discount center where money falls into a blackhole. When you buy an Indy Pass, 15 percent of that money goes to Indy, the other 85 percent goes directly to the ski areas. You get a bargain, they get paid. Everyone wins.

This whole thing could have been a scam. Or a crock. Or a fiasco. It could have disintegrated in a storm of partner and passholder anger over dysfunctional tech or missing paychecks or unregistered skier accounts. It could have been Fyre Ski – show up and there’s nothing there.

That was my fear the first time I cashed in my Indy Pass, at Caberfae, Michigan, on Friday, Nov. 29, 2019. I approached the ticket window and informed the clerk that I had an Indy Pass. She stared at me as though I’d just asked her which way to the kitten fur-hat section. Indy had just launched – I probably redeemed the first lift ticket in the ski area’s history. But Pete Meyer, part-owner and GM, was standing right behind her, and he nodded and I nodded (this was the month after The Storm launched, and we were not yet acquainted), and I attached my metal wicket ticket to my jacket and went skiing.

I’ve never had an issue cashing in an Indy Pass ticket since. Neither has anyone else that I’ve talked to. That’s why the passholder base is exploding to the point that Indy has suspended sales. And that consistency – in the form of (mostly) hassle-free redemptions and steady paychecks, is why 104 out of 105 alpine partners are returning to the pass for the 2022-23 ski season. The only exception is Snow Valley, a two-season partner that surely would have returned had it not been devoured by Alterra Mountain Company and notched into the Ikon Pass ammo belt.

For someone who has built something so transcendent, Fish remains modest and humble, at least in his public dealings and those with the media. He answers texts and emails. He takes hard questions. He owns his mistakes. He fulfills his promises. He gives everything he has to making this thing that he created work.

The Indy Pass could have come from just about anywhere. It could have been a monetized version of the Powder Alliance or sprung from an alt-world Liftopia or formed from a regurgitated M.A.X. Pass or been some sort of quirky Wal-Mart version of a 1980s Christmas catalogue special G.I. Joe boxset – a cool niche product that is kind of hard to get but coveted by those whose existence is defined by their fringe knowledge.

That IP came from Portland Doug, with his West Coast chill and self-aware need to preserve peace in Skidom – and, by extension, his own reputation – is a blessing to us all. This career marketing guy with a love of Hood pow and a knack for actualizing good ideas turned out to be exactly the shepherd indie skiing needed.

Because of this remarkable thing Fish has created, he’s been on the podcast four times. But I’ve never bothered asking about his story until now. Who is this person that spun the Indy Pass out of his imagination? Where did he come from, and why did he turn out to be the proper hero for the moment, not only creating this ark but steering it through the asteroid belts of Covid and evergrowing Epkon Pass sales? That’s a big part of what I was after here, and Fish, as always, delivered.

What we talked about

Why Fish sold the Indy Pass, how he’s feeling about it, and what his role is now; “the only reason you start a business is to someday sell it”; the hardest part of walking away from Indy; the highs and lows of creating and managing the Indy Pass; Indy’s mass adoption; Entabeni Systems, Indy’s new owner; Indy’s plan to massively expand its Nordic program; the first year of Indy XC; the most popular Indy XC resorts; how close Indy was to partnering with a tech company other than Entabeni, how Entabeni won the contract, and how that switch set Indy up for long-term business success; the first non-Western ski area to join Indy; what may or may not change in how the Indy Pass works; how often skiers actually use their Indy Passes; the surprising ownership alternative that Fish considered for Indy; the challenge of scaling the Indy Pass from 10 partners to 139 in four years; the impact of Indy’s 40 percent  2021-22 price increase in retrospect; comparing what the Indy Pass is currently to what Fish thought the Indy Pass would be five years ago; whether we could see more density in already-dense Indy regions; are oversold Epic and Ikon passes benefitting Indy?; can Indy Pass last a decade or longer?; what could ruin the pass; Portland and the Mt. Hood ski scene, in the 1960s and now; “if you envy someone for what they do, then you should be doing that thing”; the advantage of starting something huge in your 60s; why Indy will switch to a physical pass for the 2023-24 ski season; how Indy has been able to largely retain its ski area partner roster and how important that is; how Jay Peak changed the pass forever; why Indy Pass signs one-year contracts with its partners, and whether that could change; oh Dear Lord what have I done I used the word “brand equity” without irony sorry; what would have happened had Indy lost Jay; why Indy kept Jay even though it is now part of a small ski area conglomerate; whether Jay owner Pacific Group Resorts could add any of its other five ski areas to Indy; why Indy may not announce any new partners until fall; what Indy Pass blackout tiers will look like for the 2023-24 ski season; how Indy Passes sold during the renewal, waitlist, and general public sales periods; why Indy limited and ultimately cut off pass sales for the 2023-24 ski season; the problem that blackouts can’t solve; trying not to break the machine; how Indy will determine whether passes will go back on sale in the fall; new partners inbound; the top 10 Indy Pass partners by number of redemptions for the 2022-23 ski season; and the newest member of the Indy top 10 club.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

Fish appears on the podcast as regularly as the snow melts.

May 27, 2020 (Storm Skiing Podcast #16):

April 27, 2021 (Storm Skiing Podcast # 45):

May 9, 2022 (Storm Skiing Podcast #85):

So every 40 podcasts or so. And here he is, back again exactly on cue, with podcast number 125. He would have been here no matter what, to discuss the ever-evolving, ever-fascinating Indy Pass. We could probably fill an hour every month of the year. But this year is different: in March, Fish sold Indy Pass to longtime tech partner Entabeni Systems. Wow. It seemed like IP just rolled into the party. And now all this. What gives, man? And why can’t my boy Stiles scoop up an Indy just because he was busy picking out his new speakers at the boombox store for the past three weeks? And why are you mailing me a pass like it really is 1985? And do I still get my two days at Jay Peak? And when are you actually gonna add Tahoe man cause my cousin said it was sick out there? And since you’re mailing a pass can you throw in some stickers Brah? So much to dig into.

Why you should consider the Indy Pass

Well do you like skiing? Do you like selling your grandmother’s heirloom candlesticks to pay for skiing (terrible example, actually, as candles and all related paraphernalia out to be recycled into a giant bouncy ball and shot into space to create a second moon). If you answered “yes” to the first question and “no” to the second, then the Indy Pass might be for you.

One of the worst takes in skiing is that there’s nothing on the Indy Pass “worth” traveling out West for. I would have to walk into a McDonald’s and observe people eating their rancid food to witness a dumber idea. Indy’s northern Rockies kingdom is stacked with launchpads larger than anything in New England: Mission Ridge, 2,250 vertical feet on 2,000 acres of skiable terrain; Mt. Hood Meadows, 2,777 feet/2,150 acres; Lost Trail, 1,800 feet/1,800 acres; Brundage, 1,921 feet/1,920 acres.

That’s just the start of the list. If you’re an eastern or Midwestern skier who lives anywhere within the Indy orbit, this one super-cheapo discount product can give you an over-the-top amazing ski season. Buy an Indy Pass. Then hit all your locals. Then hit them all again. Then fly or drive of #VanLife your way west and loop the circuit. You get the western pow and the western vibe and the wide-open western glades without the western destination-town alienation and crowds.

For years I was that guy who flew west and blew right past Loveland on my way to Copper or Keystone or Breck or Vail. But I’m not that guy anymore. I still love – will always love – the megaresorts of the American West. But last week, after an outstanding six days at Big Sky, I angled east toward Red Lodge, seated on the Montana side of Beartooth Pass. It was sprawling, gorgeous, glorious and empty. Admittedly, the conditions kind of sucked. But they’d sucked the day before at Big Sky too – a storm had cargoed in three inches after a big thaw. Dust-on-crust? More like dust-on-concrete. But that, according to everyone I spoke with at both ski areas, had been the first thaw all winter. This is Montana high country, oases rising out of the flats. The architecture of the mountains, the dreamily spaced trees, the steady fall lines, the broad ski-everything kingdom, promised something glorious another day.

I found it the next day, at Great Divide, a little-known but riotous locals’ bump off I-15 outside of Helena. A 1,500-foot vertical drop on 1,600 acres, split into three or four treed bowls served by open-basket Riblet doubles. Four or five inches from an overnight storm, mostly smooth base below. A half-dozen whooping runs. What felt like limitless lines. No liftlines at all. Even on a Saturday. Just skiing. Skiing skiing skiing. All day long in the Montana backwoods.

Great Divide is not an Indy Pass partner, but it could (and should) be. Family-owned, rich in vibe and attitude, complex and glorious in its sprawling terrain, empty of pretense and a knick-knack souvenir veneer. If you want a cheeseburger, it’s $8.50. If you want a T-shirt, you buy it in the rental shop, which is also the ticket desk, which also appears to be the main office. There’s a good chance one of the four owners will be there working the register. I think this is what Fish means when he describes a mountain as “authentic.” Which seems to mean people running a ski area like it’s a family sandwich shop, with everyone doing what they can at all times to make it work.

This version of skiing is not for everyone. Some people really want that #ExperienceOfALifetime hashtag on their Instapost. But if you’re a little bit over that, or just want a break from it once in a while, well, jump on that IP email list and plan to pick one up this fall.

Podcast Notes

On retro Indy

Retro Indy is a funny notion, as the website flipped live less than a goldfish’s lifetime ago. But a look at this landing page, captured by the Wayback Machine on March 17, 2019, underscores how fast Indy has grown:

On Snowvana

Fish talked about his Northwest “stoke festival,” Snowvana, which has become an annual Portland tradition. You can learn about it here.

On Peak Performance aging

On a 10-hour drive from South Tahoe to San Diego last month, I streamed an episode of The Reinvention Project with Jim Rome that featured author Steven Kotler. He’d recently written a book called Growing Old, Staying Rad, which exposes myths around physical and mental degeneration and aging. One giant takeaway: your skills only decline if you let them. I brought this up in the context of Doug’s career because he created the Indy Pass at age 62, a cultural waypoint at which most Americans are hypnotized to believe their most productive time is past them. And here Fish creates one of the greatest products in skiing in his seventh decade. It’s a remarkable anecdote that proves Kotler’s point and underscores the incredible power of moving forever forward.

I have been listening to Jim Rome’s daily sports talk radio show for decades, and my interview style largely mimics his. This one is well worth a listen if you’re at all interested in aging with style:

On the Indy Pass top 10

In the podcast, Fish lays out the top-10 most-redeemed Indy Pass ski areas for the 2022-23 ski season. Here they are:

1)    Jay Peak

2)    Waterville Valley

3)    Cannon Mountain

4)    Pats Peak

5)    Bolton Valley

6)    Saddleback

7)    Magic Mountain

8)    Berkshire East

9)    Powder Mountain

10) Lutsen Mountains

And here’s what the list looks like year-by-year since Indy’s inaugural season:

Most of the sliding around between this season and last can be attributed to blackout dates: Lutsen and Pats Peak increased theirs and thus slid in the rankings. Cannon reduced theirs and so advanced. And then there’s Saddleback:

On Saddleback blackouts

Fish notes that Saddleback was a first-time entrant into the Indy Pass top 10. There was no mystery as to why: “A lot of resorts in New England added blackouts, Saddleback took theirs away,” for the 2021-22 ski season, Fish tells me on the podcast.

Saddleback General Manager Jim Quimby and I discussed exactly this, and how crucial Indy Pass has been to the mountain’s renaissance since re-opening in 2020 after a five-year closure, in our recent podcast conversation (1:28):

Honestly though just listen to the whole thing. Quimby delivers the rich history of Saddleback with an unforgettable series of anecdotes, reflections, and emotion. One of the best episodes I have to offer.

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing all year long. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 38/100 in 2023, and number 424 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

Who: Brian Fairbank, Chairman of the Fairbank Group, which owns Jiminy Peak in Massachusetts and Cranmore in New Hampshire, and manages Bromley in Vermont. Fairbank Group also manages real estate, snowmaking, renewable energy, and ski resort employee education companies.

Recorded on: Oct. 7, 2020

Crushing a pow day at Cranmore. Photo by Josh Bogardus, courtesy of Cranmore.

Why I interviewed him: Because in an industry littered with collapsed conglomerates and poor decisions, Fairbank has found a way to thrive. For decades. Massachusetts is not an easy place to run a downhill operation, as evidenced by the nearly 200 lost ski areas fading into its hills and mountains. But Fairbank grew Jiminy Peak into one of the state’s finest ski areas and used it as a launchpad into northern New England, where he applied the lessons of place-building, intensive snowmaking, and energy efficiency that he had perfected in the Berkshires to Cranmore and Bromley, two mountains mired in brutal never-ending competition with their larger and bottomlessly capitalized neighbors. Rather than let failures like the purchase of now-defunct Brodie ski area derail or deflate him, Fairbank pushed into new, sometimes risky and expensive ventures – like dropping the nation’s first windmill onto the top of a ski area – with the confidence that one setback did not portend another. Fifty-one years after arriving in Massachusetts as a 23-year-old who was obsessed with skiing and determined to make a living out of it, Fairbank has built something special. There’s really no other ski company quite like it, and I wanted to see how he built it and where it’s going next.

South-facing Bromley gets a lot of sun. Photo courtesy of Bromley.

What we talked about: Feelings about being inducted in the National Ski and Snowboard Hall of Fame; first memories of skiing; the kindness-from-a-stranger moment that changed the trajectory of Fairbank’s life; early-career days teaching on the slopes of Western New York and Wisconsin; how Frank Lloyd Wright’s Taliesin ended up influencing New England ski resort architecture half a century after Fairbank first saw it; how Fairbank ended up GM of Jiminy Peak at 23 years old and what a GM’s job required in that era; what the mountain and the Berkshires ski scene looked like when he showed up in 1969; how close Jiminy Peak came to bankruptcy in the 1970s and how he saved the ski area from oblivion; the big-time mountain that Fairbank nearly left the Berkshires to manage; the business expansion that set Jiminy on a long-term sustainable trajectory; the importance of snowmaking to Jiminy Peak’s survival and why Fairbank moved ahead of the industry to set up a permanent system; the deal he made to buy the mountain in the 1980s; the hard-to-comprehend grind of the decades-long place-making master-planned project that made Jiminy Peak the town-on-the-side-of-the-mountain/first-class ski area that it is today; if you’re gonna build a town, you’re gonna need your own sewer system; Jiminy Peak’s second existential crisis and how Fairbank moved through it; so you think it’s easy getting a wind turbine to the top of a mountain?; how that installation transformed the business; why Fairbank bought Brodie and what he found when he got there; the reason he ultimately shut the mountain down and why he included a clause in the sales contract that stipulated it could not be redeveloped as a ski area; why he doesn’t think Brodie is a viable modern ski area even if someone did want to develop it; the condition of the former ski area today; why buying Cranmore made sense and how they approached the evolution of that ski area; how Cranmore is like a 1950s gas station in downtown Buffalo; how Covid has turbocharged real-estate sales around Fairbank’s mountains; why the company took over management of Bromley; the niche Bromley has carved out that’s helped it thrive amid the giants that surround it; thoughts on the evolution of Magic; why there are no significant capital improvements in store for Bromley; why the mountain had to cancel a planned new lift and expansion; the biggest terrain shortfall at Bromley; Fairbank’s thoughts on skiing’s late megapass consolidation and his plans to stay competitive in that environment; what Fairbank said when I asked about his mountains’ pass prices in comparison to Epic and Ikon Passes; why they won’t combine the three mountains onto one pass; why the company hasn’t yet partnered with a limited-day multipass like Indy or Ikon; how Covid stacks up against previous disruptions; an interesting difference between Covid-era summer operations in three different states; the enormity of adapting to socially distanced skiing; thoughts on running the company with his son, Tyler.

A trailmap from Jiminy Peak in 1969, the year Fairbank arrived.

Jiminy Peak today.

A note on the Brodie exchange: Re-listening to the bit where we discussed Brodie, I realized I sounded as though I was trying to be evasive when Fairbank asked me how I’d learned about the clause in the mountain’s sale that forbid its redevelopment as a ski area, and I just said, “the internet.” But really I just assumed that this stipulation was common knowledge and was surprised that he was surprised. Anyway, my source for that particular tidbit was this New England Ski History article, but I’ve seen it elsewhere.

Question I wish I’d asked: Fairbank was the leader in starting the Mountains of Distinction coalition, which provides reciprocal lift ticket discounts to passholders at partner mountains, and I would have liked to have gotten his insight into how that started and what its current state is. It also would have been interesting to hear more about the Fairbank Group’s businesses outside of its ski areas, but those are my primary interest so I prioritized Jiminy Peak, Brodie, Cranmore, and Bromley. I did want to ask how, from a personal and leadership point of view, Fairbank got past the failure of Brodie to refocus on new endeavors. I also would have liked to ask if the company would consider buying another mountain. But frankly the conversation could have gone on all day – he’s accomplished so much and each one has so many dimensions that we could have eaten the Lord of the Rings trilogy before we got through it all.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview: Because Fairbank’s inclusion in the National Ski and Snowboard Hall of Fame’s Class of 2020 is an exclamation point on a distinguished career, and underscores the gravity and immensity of his decades-long contributions to the sport. This seemed like an appropriate time to review that career and those achievements. I have also been writing for months about the Northeast’s evolving season pass landscape, and I wanted to get a better understanding of his mountains’ approach, which is vastly different from that of the Colorado-based multipasses that are proliferating throughout the region. Finally, I wanted to see how the challenges introduced by Covid stacked up against the droughts and downturns of past decades as an existential challenge to skiing’s vitality.

Cruising Jiminy Peak with the wind turbine in the background. Photo courtesy of Jiminy Peak.

Why you should go there: The ski hills are all slick operations, with night skiing at all but Bromley and some nasty stuff thrown in for fun. They’re not where you for bunches of really rowdy stuff (though they have some), but they’re good for families, and Cranmore and Bromley are both nice alternatives to the busier nearby megapass-affiliated mountains (Attitash and Wildcat in the case of Cranmore; Stratton, Okemo, and Mount Snow for Bromley). But what all three have in common is a sense of community and place, deliberately built and curated by Fairbank and his company over decades. The Northeast lacks slopeside development in comparison to most Western mountains, and the ability to set up shop slopeside is a big part of the ambience of a ski vacation. Vermont is particularly adept at frustrating development efforts, as Fairbank notes in our conversation. But they have persisted and, starting at Jiminy Peak and continuing to the ongoing development of Cranmore, have set a template for how you envision and build a community to anchor a ski area. All three ski areas also have extensive summer operations that are a really fun way to feel like you’re close to skiing when the snow’s all melted.

Additional reading/videos:

* Brian was the 2017 recipient of the NSAA’s Lifetime Achievement Award

* His U.S. Ski and Snowboard Hall of Fame bio

* A Berkshire Eagle Q&A with Tyler Fairbank datelined March 13, 2020. This would have been a very different conversation two days later.

* A bit more about that wind turbine:

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Who

Tom Fortune, Vice President and Chief Operating Officer of Heavenly and Vail’s Tahoe Region (Heavenly, Northstar, and Kirkwood)

Recorded on

April 25 , 2023

About Heavenly and Vail’s Tahoe Region

Heavenly

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Vail Resorts

Located in: Stateline, Nevada and South Lake Tahoe, California

Year founded: 1955

Pass affiliations: Unlimited access on Epic Pass; Unlimited access with holiday blackouts on Epic Local Pass, Tahoe Local Pass, Tahoe Value Pass

Closest neighboring ski areas: Sierra-at-Tahoe (30 minutes), Diamond Peak (45 minutes), Kirkwood (51 minutes), Mt. Rose (1 hour), Northstar (1 hour), Sky Tavern (1 hour, 5 minutes) - travel times vary dramatically given weather conditions and time of day.

Base elevation: 6,565 feet at California Lodge; the Heavenly Gondola leaves from Heavenly Village at 6,255 feet – when snowpack allows, you can ski all the way to the village, though this is technically backcountry terrain

Summit elevation: 10,040 feet at the top of Sky Express

Vertical drop: 3,475 feet from the summit to California Lodge; 3,785 feet from the summit to Heavenly Village

Skiable Acres: 4,800

Average annual snowfall: 360 inches (570 inches for 2022-23 ski season as of May 2)

Trail count: 97

Lift count: 26 lifts (1 50-passenger tram, 1 eight-passenger gondola, 2 six-packs, 8 high-speed quads, 1 fixed-grip quad, 5 triples, 2 doubles, 2 ropetows, 4 carpets)

Northstar

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Vail Resorts

Located in: Truckee, California

Year founded: 1972

Pass affiliations: Unlimited access on Epic Pass; Unlimited access with holiday blackouts on Epic Local Pass, Tahoe Local Pass; unlimited with holiday and Saturday blackouts on Tahoe Value Pass

Closest neighboring ski areas: Tahoe Donner (24 minutes), Boreal (25 minutes), Donner Ski Ranch (27 minutes), Palisades Tahoe (27 minutes), Diamond Peak (27 minutes), Soda Springs (29 minutes), Kingvale (32 minutes), Sugar Bowl (33 minutes), Mt. Rose (34 minutes), Homewood (35 minutes), Sky Tavern (39 minutes), Heavenly (1 hour) - travel times vary dramatically given weather conditions and time of day.

Base elevation: 6,330 feet

Summit elevation: 8,610 feet

Vertical drop: 2,280 feet

Skiable Acres: 3,170

Average annual snowfall: 350 inches (665 inches for 2022-23 ski season as of May 2)

Trail count: 106

Lift count: 19 (1 six-passenger gondola, 1 pulse gondola, 1 chondola with 6-pack chairs & 8-passenger cabins, 1 six-pack, 6 high-speed quads, 1 fixed-grip quad, 2 triples, 1 platter, 5 magic carpets)

Kirkwood

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Vail Resorts

Located in: Kirkwood, California

Year founded: 1972

Pass affiliations: Unlimited access on Epic Pass, Kirkwood Pass; Unlimited access with holiday blackouts on Epic Local Pass, Tahoe Local Pass; unlimited with holiday and Saturday blackouts on Tahoe Value Pass

Closest neighboring ski areas: Sierra-at-Tahoe (48 minutes), Heavenly (48 minutes) - travel times vary dramatically given weather conditions and time of day.

Base elevation: 7,800 feet

Summit elevation: 9,800 feet

Vertical drop: 2,000 feet

Skiable Acres: 2,300

Average annual snowfall: 354 inches (708 inches for 2022-23 ski season as of May 2)

Trail count: 94

Lift count: 13 (2 high-speed quads, 1 fixed-grip quad, 6 triples, 1 double, 1 T-bar, 2 carpets)

Why I interviewed him

For decades, Heavenly was the largest ski area that touched the state of California. By a lot. Four drive-to base areas serving 4,800 acres across two states. Mammoth? Ha! Its name misleads – 3,500 acres, barely bigger than Keystone. To grasp Heavenly’s scale, look again at the new North Bowl lift on the trailmap above. A blip, one red line lost among dozens. Lodged near the base like the beginner lifts we’re all used to ignoring. But that little lift rises almost 1,300 vertical feet over nearly a mile. That’s close to the skiable drop of Sugar Bowl (1,500 feet), itself a major Tahoe ski area. Imagine laying Sugar Bowl’s 1,650 acres over the Heavenly trailmap, then add Sierra-at-Tahoe (2,000 acres) and Mt. Rose (1,200). Now you’re even.

Last year, Palisades Tahoe wrecked the party, stringing a gondola between Alpine Meadows and the resort formerly known as Squaw Valley. They were technically one resort before, but I’m not an adherent of the these-two-ski-areas-are-one-ski-area-because-we-say-so school of marketing. But now the two sides really are united, crafting a 6,000-acre super-resort that demotes Heavenly to second-largest in Tahoe.

Does it really matter? Heavenly is one of the more impressive hunks of interconnected mountain that you’ll ever ski in America. Glance northwest and the lake booms away forever into the horizon. Peer east and there, within reach as your skis touch a 20-foot snowbase, is a tumbling brown forever, the edge of the great American desert that stretches hundreds of miles through Nevada, Utah, and Colorado.

When Vail Resorts raised its periscope above Colorado for the first time two decades ago, Heavenly fell in its sites. The worthy fifth man, an all-star forward to complement the Colorado quad of Vail, Beaver Creek, Keystone, and Breck. That’s not an easy role to fill. It had to be a mountain that was enormous, evolved, transcendent. Someplace that could act as both a draw for variety-seeking Eagle County faithful and an ambassador for the Vail brand as benevolent caretaker. Heavenly, a sort of Vail Mountain West – with its mostly intermediate pitch, multiple faces, and collection of high-speed lifts cranking out of every gully – was perfect, the most logical extra-Colorado manifestation of big-mountain skiing made digestible for the masses.

That’s still what Heavenly is, mostly: a ski resort for everyone. You can get in trouble, sure, in Mott or Killebrew or by underestimating the spiral down Gunbarrel. But this is an intermediate mountain, a cruisers’ mountain. Even the traverses – and there are many – are enjoyable. Those views, man. Set the cruise control and wander forever. For a skier who doesn’t care to be the best skier in the world but who wants to experience some of the best skiing in the world, this is the place.

What we talked about

Records smashing all over the floor around Tahoe; why there won’t be more season extensions; Heavenly’s spring-skiing footprint; managing weather-related delays and shutdowns in a social-media age; it’s been a long long winter in Tahoe; growing up skiing the Pacific Northwest; Stevens Pass in the ‘70s; remember when Stevens Pass and Schweitzer had the same owner?; why leaving the thing you love most can be the best thing sometimes; overlooked Idaho; pausing at Snow King; fitting rowdy Kirkwood into the Vail Resorts puzzle; the enormous complexity of Heavenly; what it means to operate in two states; a special assignment at Stevens Pass; stabilizing a resort in chaos; why Heavenly was an early snowmaking adopter; Hugh and Bill Killebrew; on the ground during the Caldor Fire; snowmaking systems as fire-fighting sprinkler systems; fire drills; Sierra-at-Tahoe’s lost season and how Heavenly and Kirkwood helped; wind holds and why they seem to be becoming more frequent; “it can be calm down in the base area and blowing 100 up top”; potential future alternatives to Sky Express as a second lift-served route back to Nevada from California; a lift-upgrade wishlist for Heavenly; how Mott Canyon lift could evolve; potential tram replacement lifts; the immediate impact of the new North Bowl express quad; how Northstar, Kirkwood, and Heavenly work together as a unit; paid parking incoming; and the Epic Pass.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

The first half of my life was dominated by one immutable looming fact: the year 2000 would arrive. That’s how we all referenced it, every time: “the year 2000.” As though it were not just another year but the president of all years. The turning of a millennium. For the first time in a thousand years. It sounded so fantastical, so improbable, so futuristic. As though aliens had set an invasion date and we all knew it but we just didn’t know if they would vaporize us or gift us their live-forever beer recipe. Y2K hysteria added a layer of intrigue and mild thrill. Whatever else happened with your life, wherever you ended up, whoever you turned out to be, this was a party you absolutely could not miss.

This winter in Tahoe was like that. If you had any means of getting there, you had to go. Utah too. But everything is more dramatic in Tahoe. The snows piled Smurf Village-like on rooftops. The incredible blizzards raking across the Sierras. The days-long mountain closures. It was a rare winter, a cold winter, a relentless winter, a record-smashing winter for nearly every ski area ringing the 72-mile lake.

Tahoe may never see a winter like this again in our lifetimes. So how are they dealing with it? They know what to do with snow in Tahoe. But we all know what to do with water until our basement floods. Sometimes a thing you need is a thing you can get too much of.

In March I flew to California, circled the lake, skied with the people running the mountains. Exhaustion, tinted with resignation, reigned. Ski season always sprawls at the top of the Sierras, but this winter – with its relentless atmospheric rivers, the snows high and low, the piles growing back each night like smashed anthills in the driveway – amplified as it went, like an action movie with no comedic breaks or diner-meal interludes. How were they doing now, as April wound down and the snows faded and corn grew on the mountainside? And at the end of what’s been a long three years in Tahoe, with Covid shutdowns leading into a Covid surge leading into wildfires leading into the biggest snows anyone alive has ever seen? There’s hardship in all that, but pride, too, in thriving in spite of it.

What I got wrong

I said that the Kehr’s Riblet double was “one of the oldest lifts in the country.” That’s not accurate. It was built in 1964 – very old for a machine, but not even the oldest lift at the resort. That honor goes to Seventh Heaven, a 1960 Riblet double rising to the summit. And that’s not even the oldest Riblet double in the State of Washington: White Pass still runs Chair 2, built in 1958; and Vista Cruiser has been spinning at Mt. Spokane since 1956.

Questions I wish I’d asked

Fortune briefly discussed the paid-parking plans landing at Heavenly, Northstar, and Kirkwood next winter. Limited as these are to weekend and holiday mornings, the plans will no doubt spark feral rage in a certain group of skiers who want to pretend like it’s still 1987 and Tahoe has not changed in an unsustainable way. The traffic. The people. The ripple effects of all these things. I would have liked to have gotten into the motivations behind this change a bit more with Fortune, to really underscore how this very modest change is but one way to address a huge and stubborn problem that’s not going anywhere.  

Why you should ski Heavenly, Northstar, and Kirkwood

From a distance, Tahoe can be hard to sort. Sixteen ski areas strung around the lake, nine of them with vertical drops of 1,500 feet or more:

How to choose? One easy answer: follow your pass. If you already have an Epic Pass, you have a pre-loaded Tahoe sampler. Steep and funky Kirkwood. Big and meandering Heavenly. Gentle Northstar. The Brobots will try steering you away from Northstar (which they’ve glossed “Flatstar”) or Heavenly (too many traverses). Ignore them. Both are terrific ski areas, with endless glades that are about exactly pitched for the average tree skier. Kirkwood is the gnarliest, no question, but Northstar (which is also a knockout parks mountain, and heavily wind-protected for storm days), and Heavenly (which, despite the traverses, delivers some incredible stretches of sustained vertical), will still give you a better ski day than 95 percent of the ski areas in America on any given winter date.

It’s easy to try to do too much in Tahoe. I certainly did. Heavenly especially deserves – and rewards – multiple days of exploration. This is partly due to the size of each mountain, but also because conditions vary so wildly day-to-day. I skied in a windy near-whiteout at Kirkwood on Sunday, hit refrozen crust that exiled me to Northstar groomers on Tuesday, and lucked into a divine four-inch refresh at Heavenly on Wednesday, gifting us long meanders through the woods. Absolutely hit multiple resorts on your visit, but don’t rush it too much – you can always go back.

Podcast Notes

On Schweitzer and Stevens Pass’ joint owner

Fortune and I discuss an outfit called Harbor Resorts, which at one time owned both Stevens Pass and Schweitzer. I’d never heard of this company, so I dug a little. An Aug. 19, 1997 article in The Seattle Times indicates that the company also once owned a majority share in Mission Ridge and something called the “Arrowleaf resort development.” They sold Mission in 2003, and the company split in two in 2005. Harbor then sold Stevens to CNL Lifestyle Properties in 2011, where it operated under Karl Kapuscinski, the current owner, with Invision Capital, of Mountain High, Dodge Ridge, and China Peak. CNL then sold the resort to the Och-Ziff hedge fund in 2016, before Vail bought Stevens in 2018 (say what you’d like about Vail Resorts, but at least we have relative certainty that they are invested as a long-term owner, and the days of private-equity ping pong are over). Schweitzer remains under McCaw Investment Group, which emerged out of that 2005 split of Harbor.

As for Arrowleaf, that refers to the doomed Early Winters ski area development in Washington. Aspen, before it decided to just be Aspen, tried being Vail, or what Vail ended up being. The company’s adventures abroad included owning Breckenridge from 1970 to 1987 or 1988, developing Blackcomb, and the attempted building of Early Winters, which would have included up to 16 lifts serving nearly 4,000 acres in the Methow Valley. Aspen, outfoxed by a group of citizen-activists who are still shaking their pom-poms about it nearly four decades later, eventually sold the land. Subsequent developers also failed, and today the land that would have held, according to The New York Times, 200 hotel rooms, 550 condos, 440 single-family homes, shops, and restaurants is the site of exactly five single-family homes. If you want to understand why ski resort development is so hard, this 2016 article from the local Methow Valley News explains it pretty succinctly (emphasis mine):

“The first realization was that we would be empowered by understanding the rules of the game.” Coon said. Soon after it was formed, MVCC “scraped together a few dollars to hire a consultant,” who showed them that Aspen Corp. would have to obtain many permits for the ski resort, but MVCC would only have to prevail on defeating one.

Administrative and legal challenges delayed the project for 25 years, “ultimately paving the way to victory,” with the water rights issue as the final obstacle to resort development, Coon said.

The existing Washington ski resorts, meanwhile, remain overburdened and under-built, with few places to stay anywhere near the bump. Three cheers for traffic and car-first transportation infrastructure, I guess. Here’s a rough look at what Early Winters could have been:

On Stevens Pass in late 2021 and early 2022

Fortune spent 20 years, starting in the late 1970s, working at Stevens Pass. Last year, he returned on a special assignment. As explained by Gregory Scruggs in The Seattle Times:

[Fortune] arrived on Jan. 14 when the ski area was at a low point. After a delayed start to the season, snow hammered the Cascades during the holiday week. Severely understaffed, Stevens Pass struggled to open most of its chairlifts for six weeks, including those serving the popular backside terrain.

Vail Resorts, which bought Stevens Pass in 2018, had sold a record number of its season pass product, the Epic Pass, in the run-up to the 2021-22 winter, leaving thousands of Washington residents claiming that they had prepaid for a product they couldn’t use. A Change.org petition titled “Hold Vail Resorts Accountable” generated over 45,000 signatures. Over 400 state residents filed complaints against Vail Resorts with the state Attorney General’s office. In early January, Vail Daily reported that Vail’s stock price was underperforming by 25%, with analysts attributing the drop in part to an avalanche of consumer ire about mismanagement at resorts across the country, including Stevens Pass.

On Jan. 12, Vail Resorts fired then-general manager Tom Pettigrew and announced that Fortune would temporarily relocate from his role as general manager at Heavenly Ski Resort in South Lake Tahoe, California, to right the ship at Stevens Pass. Vail, which owns 40 ski areas across 15 states and three countries, has a vast pool of ski industry talent from which to draw. In elevating Fortune, whose history with the mountain goes back five decades, the company seems to have acknowledged what longtime skiers and snowboarders at Stevens Pass have been saying for several seasons: local institutional knowledge matters.

Fortune is back at Heavenly, of course. Ellen Galbraith is the resort’s current general manager – she is scheduled to join me on The Storm Skiing Podcast in June.

On Hugh and Bill Killebrew

Fortune and I touched on the legacy of Hugh Killebrew and his son, Bill. This Tahoe Daily Tribune article sums up this legacy, along with the tragic circumstances that put the younger Killebrew in charge of the resort:

By October of 1964, attorney Hugh Killebrew owned more than 60 percent of the resort. … Killebrew was a visionary who wanted to expand the resort into Nevada. Chair Four [Sky] allowed it to happen.

In the fall of 1967, [Austin] Angell was part of a group that worked through storms and strung cable for two new lifts in Nevada. Then on New Year’s Day, 1968, Boulder and Dipper chairs started running. Angell’s efforts helped turn Heavenly Valley into America’s largest ski area. …

On Aug. 27, 1977 … Hugh Killebrew and three other resort employees were killed in a plane crash near Echo Summit.

Killebrew’s son, Bill Killebrew, a then-recent business school graduate of the University of California, was one of the first civilians on the scene. He saw the wreckage off Highway 50 and immediately recognized his dad’s plane. …

At 23, Bill Killebrew assumed control of the resort. A former youth ski racer with the Heavenly Blue Angels, he learned a lot from his dad. But the resort was experiencing two consecutive drought years and was millions of dollars in debt.

Bill Killebrew began focusing on snowmaking capabilities. Tibbetts and others tinkered with different systems and, by the early 1980s, Heavenly Valley had 65 percent snowmaking coverage.

With a stroke of good luck and several wet winters, Bill Killebrew had the resort out of debt in 1987, 10 years after bankruptcy was a possibility. It was now time to sell.

Killebrew sold to a Japanese outfit called Kamori Kanko Company, who then sold it to American Skiing Company in 1997, who then sold it to likely forever owner Vail in 2002.

When he joined me on The Storm Skiing Podcast in 2021, Tim Cohee, current GM of China Peak, called Bill Killebrew “the smartest person I’ve ever known” and “overall probably the smartest guy ever in the American ski industry.” Cohee called him “basically a savant, who happened to, by accident, end up in the ski business through his dad’s tragic death in 1977.” You can listen to that at 26:30 here.

On Sierra-at-Tahoe and the Caldor Fire

Most of the 16 Tahoe-area ski areas sit along or above the lake’s North Shore. Only three sit south. Vail owns Heavenly and Kirkwood. The third is Sierra-at-Tahoe. You may be tempted to dismiss this as a locals’ bump, but look again at the chart above – this is a serious ski area, with 2,000 acres of skiable terrain on a 2,212-foot vertical drop. It’s basically the same size as Kirkwood.

The 2021 Caldor Fire threatened all three resorts. Heavenly and Kirkwood escaped with superficial damage, but Sierra got crushed. A blog post from the ski area’s website summarizes the damage:

The 3000-degree fire ripped through our beloved trees crawling through the canopies and the forest floor affecting 1,600 of our 2,000 acres, damaging lift towers, haul ropes, disintegrating terrain park features and four brand new snowcats and practically melted the Upper Shop — a maintenance building which housed many of our crews' tools and personal belongings, some that had been passed down through generations.

The resort lost the entire 2021-22 ski season and enormous swaths of trees. Here’s the pre-fire trailmap:

And post-fire:

Ski areas all over the region helped with whatever they could. One of Vail Resorts’ biggest contributions was filling in for Sierra’s Straight As program, issuing Tahoe Local Epic Passes good at all three ski areas to eligible South Shore students.

On wind holds

Fortune discussed why wind holds are such an issue at Heavenly, and why they seem to be happening more frequently, with the San Francisco Chronicle earlier this year.

On the past

I’ll leave you with this 1972 Heavenly trailmap, which labels Mott and Killebrew Canyons as “closed area - dangerous steep canyons”:

Or maybe I’ll just leave you with more pictures of Heavenly:

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The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 40/100 in 2023, and number 426 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

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Who

Dee Byrne, President and Chief Operating Officer of Palisades Tahoe, California

Recorded on

April 24, 2023

About Palisades Tahoe

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Alterra Mountain Company

Pass affiliations: Unlimited access on the Ikon Pass; unlimited access with holiday blackouts on the Ikon Base Pass

Located in: Olympic Valley, California

Year founded:

* Palisades/Olympic side (as Squaw Valley): 1949

* Alpine Meadows: 1961

Closest neighboring ski areas: Granlibakken (14 minutes from Palisades base), Homewood (18 minutes), Northstar (23 minutes), Tahoe Donner (24 minutes), Boreal (24 minutes), Soda Springs (28 minutes), Donner Ski Ranch (28 minutes), Kingvale (29 minutes), Sugar Bowl (30 minutes), Diamond Peak (39 minutes), Mt. Rose (45 minutes), Sky Tavern (50), Heavenly (1 hour) - travel times vary dramatically given weather conditions and time of day

Base elevation | summit elevation | vertical drop:

* Alpine Meadows side: 6,835 feet | 8,637 feet | 1,802 feet

* Olympic Valley side: 6,200 feet | 9,050 feet | 2,850 feet

Skiable Acres: 6,000

* Alpine Meadows side: 2,400

* Olympic Valley side: 3,600

Average annual snowfall: 400 inches (713 inches for the 2023-24 ski season through May 3!)

Trail count: 270-plus

* Alpine Meadows side: 100-plus (25% beginner, 40% intermediate, 35% advanced)

* Olympic Valley side: 170-plus (25% beginner, 45% intermediate, 30% advanced)

Lift count: 42 (10-passenger tram, 28-passenger funitel, 8-passenger gondola, 8 six-packs, 5 high-speed quads, 1 fixed-grip quad, 10 triples, 8 doubles, 7 carpets - view Lift Blog’s inventory of Palisades Tahoe’s lift fleet)

* Alpine Meadows: 13 (1 six-pack,  3 high-speed quads, 2 triples, 5 doubles,  2 carpets)

* Palisades/Olympic: 28 (120-passenger tram, 28-passenger funitel, 7 six-packs, 2 high-speed quads, 1 quad, 8 triples, 3 doubles, 5 carpets)

* Shared lifts: 1 (8-passenger Base-to-Base Gondola)

Why I interviewed her

Imagine this: I’m a Midwest teenager who has notched exactly three days on skis, on three separate 200-vert bumps. I know vaguely that there is skiing out West, and that it is big. But I’m thinking Colorado, maybe Wyoming. California? California is Beach Boys and palm trees. Surfboards and San Diego. I have no idea that California has mountains, let alone ski resorts. Anticipating the skis, boots, and poles that I’ve requested as the totality of my Christmas list, I pick up the December 1994 issue of Skiing (RIP), and read the following by Kristen Ulmer:

Nothing is random. You live, die, pay taxes, move to Squaw. It’s the place you see in all the ski flicks, with the groovy attitudes, toasty-warm days, wild lines, and that enormous lake. It’s California! Squallywood! It’s the one place where every born-to-ski skier, at some point or other, wants to move to; where people will crawl a thousand miles over broken glass for the chance to ski freezer burn. The one place to make it as a “professional” skier.

My friend Kent Kreitler, a phenomenal skier who doesn’t live anywhere in particular, finally announced, “I think I’m move to Squaw.”

“So Kent,” I said, “let me tell you what the rest of your life will be like.” And I laid it out for him. …

You’re curious to find out if you’re as good a skier as you think. So you find a group of locals and try to keep up. On powder days the excitement builds like a pressure cooker. Move fast, because it only takes an hour for the entire mountain to get tracked up. There’s oodles of cliff jumps and psycho lines. You’d better just do it, because within seconds, 10 other yahoos will have already jumped and tracked out the landing pad.

If you’re a truly amazing skier (anything else inspires only polite smiles and undisguised yawns), then you land clean on jumps and shred through anything with style. If not, the hyperactivity of the place will motivate you to ski the same lines anyway. Either way is fulfilling.

Occasionally a random miracle occurs, and the patrol opens the famed Palisades on Squaw Peak. On those days you don’t bother with a warm-up run – just hike 15 minutes from the top of Siberia Express chair and coolly launch some hospital air off Main Chute.

There are other places to express your extreme nature. When everything else gets tracked, you hike up Granite Peak for its steep chutes. If the snowpack is good, you climb 10 minutes from the top of the KT-22 chair to Eagle’s Nest. And jumping the Fingers off KT-22 seems particularly heroic: Not only do you need speed to clear the sloping rocks, but it’s right (ahem) under the lift.

At the conclusion of that ski season, teenage Stuart Winchester, a novice skier who lived in his parents’ basement, announced, “I think I’m moving to Squaw.”

“No D*****s,” his mom said, “you’re going to college.”

Which doesn’t mean I ever forgot that high-energy introduction to California extreme. I re-read that article dozens of times (you can read the full bit here). Until my brain had been coded to regard the ski resort now known as Palisades Tahoe (see why?) as one of the spiritual and cultural homelands of U.S. lift-served skiing.

Ulmer’s realm, hyperactive as it was, looks pokey by today’s standards. An accompanying essay in that same issue of Skiing, written by Eric Hanson, describes a very different resort than the one you’ll encounter today:

Locals seem proud that there’s so little development here. The faithful will say it’s because everything that matters is up on the mountain itself: bottomless steeps, vast acreage, 33 lifts and no waiting. America’s answer to the wide-open ski circuses of Europe. After all these years the mountain is still uncrowded, except on weekends when people pile in from the San Francisco Bay area in droves. Squaw is unflashy, underbuilt, and seems entirely indifferent to success. The opposite of what you would expect one of America’s premier resorts to be.

Apparently, “flashy” included, you know, naming trails. Check out this circa 1996 trailmap, which shows lift names, but only a handful of runs:

Confusion reigned, according to Hanson:

Every day, we set off armed with our trail map and the printed list of the day’s groomed runs in search of intermediate terrain – long steep runs groomed for cruising, unmogulled routes down from the top of the black-diamond chairs. It wasn’t easy. The grooming sheet named runs which weren’t marked on the trail map. The only trail named on the map is The Mountain Run, an expressway that drops 2,000 feet from Gold Coast to the village. And most of the biggest verticals were on the chairs – KT-22, Cornice II, Headwall, Silverado, Broken Arrow – marked “experts only.” We didn’t relish the idea of going up an expert chair looking for a particular groomed route down, if the groomed route wasn’t to be found. I began feeling nostalgic for all those totem poles of green and blue and black trail signs that clutter the landscapes of other ski resorts, but at least keep the skier oriented.

I asked a patroller where I could find some of the runs on the groomed list. He wasn’t sure. He told me that the grooming crew and the ski patrol didn’t have the same names for many of the runs.

Just amazing. While Palisades Tahoe is now a glimmering model of a modern American ski resort, that raw-and-rowdy past is still sewn into the DNA of this fascinating place.

What we talked about

Tahoe’s megaseason; corn harvest; skiing into July and… maybe beyond; why Alpine will be the later operator this summer; why the base-to-base gondola ceased operation on April 30; snow exhaustion; Cali spring skiing; reminiscing on Pacific Northwest ski culture; for the love of teaching and turning; skiing as adventure; from 49 Degrees North to Vail to Aspen to Tahoe; Tahoe culture shock; Palisades’ vast and varied ski school; reflections on the name change a year and a half later; going deep on the base-to-base gondola; the stark differences between the cultural vibe on the Alpine Meadows and Palisades sides of the resort and whether the gondola has compromised those distinctions; why the gondola took more than a decade to build and what finally pushed it through; White Wolf, the property that hosts an unfinished chairlift between Palisades and Alpine; how the gondola took cars off the road; why the base-to-base gondola didn’t overload KT-22’s terrain; the Mothership; the new Red Dog sixer; why Palisades re-oriented the lift to run lower to the ground; why the lift was only loading four passengers at a time for large parts of the season; snowmaking as fire-suppression system; how Palisades and Mammoth assisted Sierra-at-Tahoe’s recovery; candidates for lift upgrades at Alpine Meadows; “fixed-grip lifts are awesome”; an Alpine masterplan refresh incoming; which lift could be next in line for upgrades on the Palisades side; the “biggest experience bust on the Palisades side of the resort”; why Silverado and Granite Chief will likely never be upgraded to detachable lifts; why the Silverado terrain is so rarely open and what it takes to make it live; whether Palisades Tahoe could ever leave the unlimited-with-blackouts tier on the Ikon Base Pass; and paid parking incoming.             

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

This was the second time I’ve featured Palisades Tahoe on The Storm Skiing Podcast. The first was a conversation with then-resort president Ron Cohen in September 2020, shortly after the ski area announced that it would ditch the “Squaw Valley” name. We spent the entire 49-minute conversation discussing that name change. At the time, the podcast was mostly focused on New England and New York, and a deep exploration of a distant resort would have been a little off-brand.

But The Storm has evolved, and my coverage now firmly includes the State of California. Thank goodness. What an incredible ski state. So many huge resorts, so much wide-open terrain, so much snow, so much energy. The Northeast tugs skiing from the earth through technology and willpower, pasting white streaks over brown land, actualizing the improbable in a weird algorithm that only pencils out because 56 million people camp out within driving distance. California is different. California delivers skiing because it’s lined top to bottom with giant mountains that summon ungodly oceans of snow from the clouds. It just happens Brah. There aren’t even that many ski areas here – just 28, or 29 if you count the uber-dysfunctional Mt. Waterman – but there seems to be one everywhere you need one – LA (Big Bear, Baldy, Mountain High), Fresno (China Peak), Modesto (Dodge Ridge), Stockton (Bear Valley), Sacramento and the Bay Area (all of Tahoe). Among these are some of the largest and most-developed ski areas in America.

And none is bigger than Palisades Tahoe. Well, Heavenly was until this year, as I outlined earlier this week, but the base-to-base gondola changed all that. The ski area formerly known as Squaw Valley and the ski area still-known as Alpine Meadows are now officially one interconnected ski goliath. That’s a big deal.

Add a new six-pack (Red Dog), a sufficient period to reflect on the name change, a historic winter, and the ongoing impacts of the Covid-driven outdoor boom and the Ikon Pass, and it was a perfect time to check in on one of Alterra’s trophy properties.

Why you should ski Palisades Tahoe

One of the most oft-dished compliments to emphasize the big-mountain cred of a North American ski resort is that it “feels like Europe.” But there just aren’t that many ski areas around these parts worthy of that description. Big Sky, with its dramatic peaks and super-duper out-of-base bubble lifts. Snowbird-Alta, with their frenzied scale and wild terrain and big-box tram (though they get way too much snow to mistake for Europe). Whistler, with its village and polyglot vibe. And then there’s Palisades Tahoe:

Nowhere else in America do you stand in the base area and wonder if you should hop on the tram or the gondola or the other big-gondola-thingy-that-you’re-not-quite-sure-what-it-is (the funitel) or the most iconic chairlift in the country (KT-22). Or Wa She Shu. Or Exhibition or Red Dog. And go up and up and then you never need to see the base area again. Up to Headwall or Gold Coast or so help-you-God Silverado if it’s open. Or up and over to Alpine and another whole ski area that used to be a giant ski resort but is now just a small part of a giant-er ski resort.

It’s too much to describe or even really try to. In our conversation, Byrne called Palisades a “super-regional” resort. One that most people drive to, rather than fly to. I’m telling you this one is worth the flight. From anywhere. For anyone. Just go.

Podcast Notes

On the name change

The last time I interviewed Byrne, it was for an article I wrote on the name change in 2021:

The name change, promised more than a year ago, acknowledges that many Native Americans consider the word “squaw” to be a racist and sexist slur.

“Anyone who spends time at these mountains can feel the passion of our dedicated skiers and riders,” said Ron Cohen, former president and COO of Palisades Tahoe, who moved into the same position at Alterra’s Mammoth Mountain in June. “It’s electric, exciting, reverential, and incredibly motivating. However, no matter how deep, meaningful, and positive these feelings are and no matter how much our guests don’t intend to offend anyone, it is not enough to justify continuing to operate under a name that is deeply offensive to indigenous people across North America.”

The former resort name was perhaps the most prominent modern use of the word “squaw” in America, skiing’s equivalent to the Cleveland Indians or Washington Redskins, two professional sports teams that are also in the process of replacing their names (Cleveland will become the Guardians, while Washington will announce its new name early next year). The update broadcasts a powerful signal to an American mainstream that still largely regards the word “squaw” as an innocuous synonym for a Native American woman.

“We know the founders of our resort had no intention of causing offense in choosing this name for the resort, nor have any of our patrons who have spoken this word over the last seven decades,” said Cohen. “But as our society evolves, we must acknowledge the need for change when we are confronted with harsh realities. Having our name be associated with pain and dehumanization is contrary to our goal of making the outdoors a welcoming space for all people. I feel strongly that we have been given the rare opportunity to effect lasting, positive change; to find a new name that reflects our core values, storied past and respect for all those who have enjoyed this land.”

It’s a long piece, and my opinion on it stands, but I’ll reiterate this bit:

I realize that many of us learned something different in grade school. I am one of them. Until last year, I did not know that Native Americans considered this word to be offensive. But the resort, after extensive research and consultation with the local Washoe Tribe, made a good case that the name was an anachronism.

Cohen came on my podcast to further elaborate. The arguments made sense. What I had learned in grade-school was wrong. “Squaw” was not a word that belonged on the masthead of a major ski resort.

The immediate reaction that this is some PC move is flimsy and hardly worth addressing, but OK: this is not a redefining of history to cast a harmless thing as nefarious. Rather, it is an example of a long-ostracized group finding its voice and saying, “Hey, this is what this actually means – can you rethink how you’re using this word?”

If you want to scream into the wind about this, be my guest. The name change is final. The place will still have plenty of skiers. If you don’t want to be one of them, there are plenty of other places to ski, around Tahoe and elsewhere. But what this means for the ski terrain is exactly nothing at all. The resort, flush with capital from Alterra, is only getting bigger and better. Sitting out that evolution for what is a petty protest is anyone’s mistake to make.

“We want to be on the right side of history on this,” said Byrne. “While this may take some getting used to, our name change was an important initiative for our company and community. At the end of the day, ‘squaw’ is a hurtful word, and we are not hurtful people. We have a well-earned reputation as a progressive resort at the forefront of ski culture, and progress cannot happen without change.”

Apparently there are still a handful of Angry Ski Bros who occasionally track Byrne down on social media and yell about this. Presumably in all-caps. Sometimes I think about what life would be like right now had the commercial internet failed to take off and honestly it’s hard to conclude that it wouldn’t be a hell of a lot better than whatever version of reality we’ve found ourselves in.

On federal place names eliminating the use of the word “squaw”

Byrne mentioned that the federal government had also moved to eliminate the word “squaw” from its place names. Per a New York Times article last March:

The map dots, resembling a scattergram of America, point to snow-covered pinnacles, remote islands and places in between.

Each of the 660 points, shown on maps of federal lands and waterways, includes the word “squaw” in its name, a term Native Americans regard as a racist and misogynistic slur.

Now the Interior Department, led by Deb Haaland, the first Native American cabinet secretary, is taking steps to strip the word from mountains, rivers, lakes and other geographic sites and has solicited input from tribes on new names for the landmarks.

A task force created by the department will submit the new names for final approval from the Board on Geographic Names, the federal body that standardizes American place names. The National Park Service was ordered to take similar steps.

By September, the Biden administration had completed the project. The word persists in non-federally owned place names, however. One ski area – Big Squaw in Maine – still officially carries the name, even though the state was among the first to ban the use of the word “squaw,” back in 2000. While a potential new ownership group had vowed to change the ski area’s name, they ultimately backed out of the deal. As long as the broken-down, barely functional ski area remains under the ownership of professional knucklehead and bootleg timber baron James Confalone, the ski area – and the volunteer group that keeps the one remaining chairlift spinning – is stuck with the name.

On White Wolf 

If you’ve ever looked off the backside of KT-22, you’ve no doubt noticed the line of chairlift towers standing empty on the mountain:

This is White Wolf, a long-envisioned but as-yet-incomplete private resort owned by a local gent named Troy Caldwell, who purchased the land in 1989 for $400,000. Byrne and I discuss this property briefly on the podcast. The Palisades Tahoe blog posted a terrific history of Caldwell and White Wolf last year:

So, they shifted to the idea of a private ski area, named White Wolf. In 2000, Placer County issued Caldwell a permit to build his own chairlift. A local homeowners’ association later sued the county for issuing him that permit, but, in 2005, the lift towers and cables went in, but construction slowed on the private chairlift as Caldwell weighed his options for a future interconnect between the resorts. To date, the chairlift has yet to operate—but that may be changing if Caldwell’s long-term plan comes to fruition.

In 2016, Caldwell submitted plans to Placer County for a 275-acre private-resort housing project on his land that would include the construction of dozens of fire-safe custom homes, as well employee housing units, a pool, an ice-skating rink, and two private chairlifts, including the one that’s already constructed.

After the Palisades Tahoe resorts came under the same ownership in 2012, the plan to physically link them has now become reality. Caldwell is the missing piece enabling the long-awaited gondola to connect the two mountains over his land. Roughly half of the Base to Base Gondola and its mid-stations are on property owned by the Caldwells.

“Sure, we could have sold the land for $50 million and moved to Tahiti,” Caldwell says with a laugh. “But we made the decision that this is our life, this is what we wanted to do. We wanted to finish the dream, connect the ski areas and do what we initially set out to do.”

Unfortunately, it is unlikely that the general public will ever be able to ski White Wolf.

On Alpine Meadows’ masterplan

Byrne and I discuss several proposed but unbuilt lifts at Alpine Meadows, including the Rollers lift, shown here on the 2015 masterplan:

And here, just for fun, is an old proposed line for the gondola, which would not have crossed the KT-22 Express:

On Sierra-at-Tahoe and the Caldor Fire

I discussed this one in my recent article for the Heavenly pod.

Parting shot

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 41/100 in 2023, and number 427 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

Who: Ron Cohen, President and Chief Operating Officer of Squaw Valley Alpine Meadows

Why I interviewed him: Because when one of the most important ski areas in America makes one of the most controversial and consequential naming decisions in the history of the sport, it’s worth hearing them out about why they did it. The backstory, the nuance, the broader perspective of why “squaw” is not the cozy little identifier of a Native American woman that we all learned it was in first grade and is, rather, a word you don’t want to throw around in the presence of said Native American women has been ground up in the social media wood chipper and simplified into all caps accusations of PC kowtowing by reactionary bozos. But the mountain didn’t just wake up one morning, slam their name through the Wokenator 5000, and decide it was newly and unreasonably offensive. Rather, they underwent a very deliberate process to explore the history and etymology of the word and decide whether the sum of all those things reflected the rad cliff-hucking sunshiny snow-buried ethos of one of the most historically and culturally significant mountains on the continent. They decided it didn’t. And I wanted to hear why they made that decision in an environment free from the digital flamethrowers of people who WILL NEVER SKI SQUAW VALLEY AGAIN AFTER THIS OUTRAGE.

What we talked about: How the mountain concluded that the word “squaw” is “offensive and derogatory”; when and why the persistent calls for examination of the name assumed more urgency; memoranda of reflexive defensiveness from the social-digital peanut gallery; the two biggest myths and misconceptions that drove the don’t-change-the-name crowd; the competing origin stories of Squaw Valley’s name and why the bucolic version is probably “a fantasy”; the mountain’s quest for truth and what that revealed; why research requires some mental time travel and a suspension of all the truths you think are real; the genocidal imperatives against Native Americans handed down by California’s first governor; atrocities of the state administrative and legal system in 1850s California; the horrid alternate history of the valley’s name tracked down in an Aug. 13, 1859 issue of a local Tahoe paper; acknowledging that scholarly debate exists about the etymology of the word and about which theory is the most historically plausible; confirmation of the word’s ferocious and dehumanizing intent buried in American literature from 200 years ago; why acknowledgement and awareness of this wicked intent finally gained momentum in the 1990s; how the resort worked with the local Native American tribes and individuals to understand how they viewed the word “squaw”; community reaction and it’s not all Angry Ski Bros yelling on social media; the outsized meaning of big bad brilliant Squaw Valley to generations of skiers and why that has amplified passions behind the name change; yes a Zoolander reference; there’s no name picked so don’t panic about “Olympic Valley” just yet; so they’ve acknowledged that the name isn’t appropriate but it won’t change until next year, so how do you navigate that?; the enormous effort required to rename a place as large and complex as Squaw Valley; this is just part of a nationwide movement to strip “squaw” from place names; why the mountain is relying on, rather than erasing, history; why the founding and naming of the resort remains an innocent event; the Squaw Valley name “belongs in the history books”; how the resort plans to continue honoring the name post-retirement; and an update on the base-to-base gondola between the Squaw Valley and Alpine Meadows ski areas.

Question I wish I’d asked: I had a line of questioning prepared about Squaw-Alpine parent company Alterra and how involved they were in the discussions and decisions, but we didn’t have time to get into it. I also wanted to know more specifically who would be involved in choosing the new name and exactly how much work it was going to be to make that update at an operation of that size. Finally, I was hoping to toss in a question about the surreal weekend of the shutdown and what the resort is doing to prepare for this coming season. But hey I’m not a wizard and time is not fungible, so we’re going to have to be happy with what we could fit into our allotted time slot.

Confession Corner: So up until about eight or nine weeks ago the extent of my thinking about the word “squaw” hadn’t gone past the Pilgrims-and-Indians we’re-all-friends Thanksgiving simplifications fed to an elementary school version of myself that was too young to read, let alone reflect deeply on whether the thing that an adult told me a word meant was different from what it actually meant. I was like, “Squaw equals Indian woman. Noted. When do I get my Fudge Round?” That was in 1983 and I never thought about it again. But now presented with this information that the word is like the verbal equivalent of a Molotov cocktail it doesn’t seem like such a hard decision to gingerly place it in its retirement home. I will acknowledge however that I have no emotional attachment to the place other than a deep deep admiration for what the ski area itself is and its place in skiing lore. I spoke in my last podcast, with Mountain Gazette owner and editor Mike Rogge, about my love for ski magazines and one of the stories that first pulled me inexorably into the skiing black hole in which I have existed ever since is this 1994 Skiing story by Kristen Ulmer about the high-flying life of the Squaw Valley bombers. But I realize change is hard especially when that change is drilled into something that’s a central part of your life. But moguls are hard too and if you want to ski you just have to figure it out. And one thing we don’t need to figure out is that none of us love Squaw Valley because of the name. We love it because of this:

Photo by Jeff Engerbretson. Courtesy of Squaw Valley Alpine Meadows.

And this:

Photo by Ben Arnst. Courtesy of Squaw Valley Alpine Meadows.

And this:

We gather there and ski there because the place is a rarefied powder bullseye with a history of churning out some of the raddest skiers to ever click in. The name is a symbol and an important one but changing it cannot change the intangible raw awesomeness of the place itself.

And you don’t have any choice but to get used to it. As Ron says in his open letter addressing the name change, “… please recognize that our decision is made and we are not looking back. Please join us as we move forward, together.”

Additional reading:

* The resort put together an FAQ, a history of the word “squaw,” a perspective on how it’s viewed today, and a letter from Ron on this page.

* The newspaper article that Ron referred to early in the interview as integral to starting the renaming process

* The 1851 State of the State speech from California’s governor that Ron referred to. The governor states “That a war of extermination will continue to be waged between the races until the Indian race becomes extinct must be expected.”

* My initial thinking on Squaw Valley considering changing its name back in June and my analysis after they decided to do so.

* The depressing Twitter thread of hip-shooting Very Angry People strung below Squaw Valley’s announcement:

Recorded on: Sept. 3, 2020

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Who

Robby Ellingson, General Manager of Mt. Baldy, California

Recorded on

May 8, 2023

About Mt. Baldy

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Mt. Baldy Ski Lifts, which is majority owned by Ron Ellingson

Located in: Mt. Baldy, California

Year founded: 1952

Pass affiliations: None

Closest neighboring ski areas: Mountain High (1 hour, 12 minutes), Snow Valley (1 hour, 19 minutes), Snow Summit (1 hour, 52 minutes), Bear Mountain (1 hour, 56 minutes) – travel times vary considerably pending time of day and weather conditions

Base elevation: 6,500 feet

Summit elevation: 8,600 feet

Vertical drop: 2,100 feet

Skiable Acres: 800-plus

Average annual snowfall: 170 inches

Trail count: 26 (54% advanced/expert, 31% intermediate, 15% beginner)

Lift count: 4 double chairs – view Lift Blog’s inventory of Mt. Baldy’s lift fleet

Why I interviewed him

If you have children under the age of 15 or so, you have likely seen Zootopia. If not, imagine this: anthropomorphic animals (it’s Disney), traumatized by eons of predator-eat-prey brutalism, build a city in which they can all coexist after the lions and wolves are given the equivalent of cartoon Beyond burgers or something. This city is divided into realms: desert, jungle, arctic, water, etc. Which is about as believable as thousands of species of walking, talking animals living in non-murderous harmony until you realize, oh yeah, that’s basically Los Angeles.

The monster, pulsing city, its various terras stacked skyward like realms in Tolkein: ocean then beach then jungle then mountain then desert beyond. Most American cities sprawl outward in concentric rings of Wal-Marts and Applebee’s and Autozones. LA gives you whole different worlds every five freeway exits.

It’s still incongruous, to drive up into the sky and find Mt. Baldy. Not just to find a ski area, because there are plenty of those perched along the city walls, but to find this ski area, pinched in a deep ravine at the end of a narrow highway switchbacking up from the flats. Foot-loading the lattice-towered double chair is like boarding a slow-motion time machine into the sky. And indeed you may think you have. At the top, cellphone service blinks out. The chairlifts are museum pieces from the pre-digital era of industrial design. The trailmap un-scrolled across the baselodge wall teases the Stockton Flats expansion, which will be new… in 1991 (it’s still not there).

Los Angeles, with its vast wealth and enormous population, could support almost any kind of ski area. Knit the entirety of the mountains above the city together with high-speed lifts, and you would have no issue filling them with skiers. And yet, the closest ski area to Fancy Town is this throwback. Soaring, glorious, gorgeous, but a relic, as though someone turned the lights on in 1952 and forgot about it. There’s some grooming but not a lot. Some snowmaking but not a lot. Some services but just enough. A few other skiers but basically none. Meaning not enough for liftlines, at least once you get up Lift 1. It’s just you and endless inventive lines through the trees.

If I found Baldy staked out in the remote Sierras, a token of another time, I’d be awestruck and amazed. If I found it tucked off some pass in Idaho or Wyoming, I’d understand its end-of-civilization vibe. But so positioned, directly and conspicuously over America’s West Coast glitter, the place is puzzling and fascinating. I had to know more.

What we talked about

That amazing 2022-23 California ski season; why it’s almost impossible to get accurate snow measurements at Baldy; why Baldy isn’t reliant on CalTrans like the other SoCal ski areas; avy mitigation in SoCal; why Baldy pushes the season so deep into spring; embracing social media; growing up in the mountains above LA; the Ellingson family legacy on the mountain; why bombing the mountain as a kid doesn’t prepare you to run it as an adult; loving the mountain and the rush of it all; who owns Mt. Baldy Ski Lifts; building Baldy above Los Angeles starting in 1952; thoughts on the consolidation of Southern California skiing; competing with the Ikon Pass; what happened when Baldy introduced a $49 season pass, and why that product eventually went away; whether Vail has ever driven up from the 210 with an open checkbook; why Baldy never became the “Disneyland of the mountains”; Baldy’s Holy Grail expansion and whether it will ever happen; Baldy’s throwback vibe; updating the masterplan (from 1993!); priorities for new lifts, including one that could change the texture of the entire resort; the incredible journey of the used lift that will replace Chair 2; upgrades happening to Chair 3 this summer; Baldy’s unique follow-the-sun lift operations; how Mt. Baldy’s snowmaking system exists in an area facing chronic water shortages; snowmaking priorities; Club Baldy; whether Baldy could ever join the Indy Pass; and Baldy’s parking restrictions and whether they could ever build more parking spots.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

I’ve been aware of Mt. Baldy for decades, in the way that I’ve been aware of every mid-sized-for-its-region ski area, but I never thought much about the place until April 2020.

As we all remember, the entire North American ski industry had shut down over the course of a week that March. As most of us have forgotten, a handful re-opened starting in late April. The first of those was Mt. Baldy. On April 22, operating under a tee-time social-distancing structure that permitted small groups of skiers up the mountain in intervals, Baldy turned the lifts back on for the first time in weeks. I lobbed an email into the ether and, much to my surprise, connected with Ellingson for a short podcast conversation.

The clever operating scheme that Ellingson patched together told a far larger story than one ski area hacking the Covid shutdowns. It was that, of course, but it also distilled the rowdy spirit of independent ski areas into one tangible act: a simple, creative, rapidly conceived and executed set of operating procedures that flexed to both the complexities of a global pandemic and the nuances of a single ski area. Vail and Alterra can do a lot of things, but that sort of nimble adaptation is harder for them (though Crystal, Washington was one of the half-dozen or so ski areas to re-open that spring). Baldy’s scheme was brash without being reckless - Ellingson did not ask the local or state authorities’ permission to re-open the bump, but he did so with 10 percent capacity restrictions that seem conservative in hindsight. The plan showcased the vitality of independent ski areas, and also their necessity. Remember that, in those first weeks after the Covid shutdowns, there was some doubt as to whether the 2020-21 ski season would happen at all (and, indeed, in many European nations, it basically didn’t), but Baldy showed, early and decisively, that some version of skiing could co-exist with Covid, and the industry’s focus quickly swiveled from “if” to “how.”

That sense of quirky, raw independence animates everything about Mt. Baldy. There is nothing else like it in America. And not in the way that there’s nothing else like Alta or Vail Mountain or Killington or Whiteface, which each have unique terrain and snowfall patterns and cultures, but similar ways of being. Baldy just feels like a different way of being a ski area, like when you go to Europe and all of the cars and buildings look different and you’re like, OK, this is a different way of being a civilization. Or I guess like skiing in Europe, which really feels nothing at all like America.

It’s hard to understand without experiencing it for yourself. In March, I finally stopped in and skied the place. And I had to ask what in the world I’d just experienced.

What I got wrong

For some reason, I’d thought that the Mueller lift company had gone the way of the Riblet (meaning, out of business). I said so during our interview, when Ellingson noted that he had ordered new chairs for Chair 3, a 1978 Mueller double. He pointed out that the company is still in business, in Canada.

Why you should ski Mt. Baldy

In the podcast, I ask Ellingson if Vail Resorts has ever brought its big fat checkbook up the access road. He said they haven’t, which is both surprising and not surprising. Surprising because Vail has purchased a ski area within the orbit of pretty much every cold-weather or mountain-adjacent city in the United States, with the exception of Los Angeles. Not surprising because Vail tends to buy renovated houses, rather than repair jobs. Not that there’s anything broken about Baldy, but four double chairlifts is not exactly Vail’s brand.

I asked about Vail’s interest for this reason: as a fully permitted ski area with secure water rights standing above the nation’s second-most-populous city, Baldy is an irreplaceable asset. There are only a handful of ski areas in the National Forests above Los Angeles. Alterra owns three of them: Bear Mountain, Snow Summit, and Snow Valley. Mountain High is itself in acquisition mode, purchasing Dodge Ridge in 2021 and China Peak last year. Mt. Waterman has no snowmaking and has not turned the lifts on for public skiing in more than three years. A few other Forest Service permits remain active, though the ski areas have long closed: Cedar Pass, Green Valley, Kratka Ridge. That makes Baldy the only viable LA-area independent ski area that would make sense as a megapass acquisition.

It's unlikely, but not impossible. It would cost tens of millions to upgrade the resort’s lift and snowmaking infrastructure to handle Epic Pass volumes. Eventually, however, Vail may conclude that their only way to compete with Alterra for LA is to buy their way in. And, as Ellingson says in the podcast, “everything is for sale” - for the right price.

My point here is this: if you want to experience the funky, idiosyncratic Mt. Baldy that I’m describing here, don’t wait to do it. This is not Mad River Glen, shielded from over-development by co-op bylaws. This is a locally owned and operated ski area that has done what they could with what they’ve had for decades. That it’s quaint and wild is a function of circumstance rather than destiny. Someone could buy this. Someone could change this. Someone could make this Big Bear 2. I’m not going to tell you whether that would be a good thing or a bad thing, but I will tell you that it would be a different thing. And that different thing could happen tomorrow or it could happen 30 years from now or it could happen never. Don’t bet against it. Go ski Baldy the next chance you get.

Podcast Notes

On SoCal summit elevations

We briefly discussed the top altitude of the various SoCal ski areas. Bear Mountain checks in with the highest, topping out at 8,805 feet at the top of Bear Peak. Baldy is right behind, at 8,600 at the tops of both lifts 3 and 4. Baldy is the king of SoCal vert, however – when you can ski all the way to the bottom of Lift 1. Some seasons, this doesn’t happen at all, but this year, Ellingson said one of his employees skied to the base more than 50 days.

Just for fun, here’s an inventory of all California ski areas’ headline stats, with SoCal ski areas highlighted in blue:

On reading recommendations                          

Ellingson mentions a book by Patagonia founder Yvon Chouinard: Let My People Surf. Here’s a link if you want to check it out.

On the bells clanging in the background

You may notice bells clanging in the background during a good portion of the podcast. While you may conclude that I recorded this episode in a Christmas village, this was just our family’s eight-week-old kittens batting their cat toys around in the background. Eventually I called in reinforcements to shut this illicit operation down, but in the meantime, chaos reigned.

On Mt. Waterman not being a real ski area

Mt. Waterman is, technically, still a functioning ski area. Their Forest Service permit is active. Someone regularly updates their Facebook page and website. However. The lifts haven’t actually spun for the public since early 2020, pre-Covid shutdowns. There is always some excuse: not enough workers, no power, no snow, the road is closed. The place has no snowmaking, which, in Southern California in 2023, is as absurd as it sounds. But they failed to open even after this year’s massive storm, which brought as much as 10 feet to the other ski areas in the region.

It’s fair to suspect something shady is going on here. I’m not making any accusations, but the Forest Service ought to investigate (if they’re even equipped to do that) why the ski area so infrequently opens. I am usually allergic to online mob violence, but the ruthless shaming by disappointed would-be Waterman skiers to the ski area’s every Facebook post is consistent, disgusted, and hilarious:

The whole “you’re just running the lifts for your friends and family” accusation is fairly common. I have no idea if it’s true. If so, this place needs to be liberated for the people.

On Stockton Flats

Ski straight off Chair 4 and angle slightly right, sidestep a few feet up, and you’ll see a vast kingdom stretching off into the wilderness. Straight down, marvelous untracked pow. This is Stockton Flats, the long-teased but never actualized expansion off Baldy’s backside. This circa 2006 trailmap shows up to six lifts spread over 2,200 vertical feet on the expansion:

The potential expansion is so built into Baldy’s lore that the large trailmap stretched across the baselodge still teases it:

So, why hasn’t the expansion happened? Will it ever? We discuss that extensively in the podcast.

On the Ski Area Recreational Opportunity Enhancement Act

Ellingson refers to the “Summertime Enhancement Act” that Congress passed several years ago. This was a 2010 law that allowed ski areas operating on Forest Service land to expand operations into the summer. Thus: all the mountain coasters, ziplines, disc golf, mountain biking, and other stuff you see happening around ski areas in the offseason. In other words, this law allowed ski areas to evolve into year-round businesses, as their non-Forest Service counterparts had been doing for decades. It was, by all accounts, a huge boost to the viability of the nation’s ski industry.

On our last Mt. Baldy podcast

Ellingson and I recorded a podcast episode previously, on April 22, 2020. Heads up: the energy here is way different than what you’re accustomed to from The Storm. In summary, when Covid hit, no one cared about anything else but Covid for like three months. So I halted my regular podcast series (which at the time consisted of just 14 episodes), and pivoted to a “Covid-19 & Skiing” series. These were short – generally about 30 minutes – and explored the impact of Covid on skiing in the most sober possible terms. There is no music and no sponsors, and barely an introduction. Plus I hope I’ve gotten better at this. Anyway just setting expectations here.

On “Disneyland of the Mountains”

I referenced this 1987 Los Angeles Times article that envisioned a future Mt. Baldy that looked a lot like, well, Big Bear. That never happened, obviously, and Ellingson and I discuss why not at length. But it’s fascinating to put yourself back in the late ‘80s and see a whole different world than the one that actually happened.

On Instapost

Ellingson talked a bit about his experience as reluctant owner of the Mt. Baldy Instagram account. Frankly I think he does an awesome job. The feed is interesting, raw, quirky, and fun. Give them a follow.

On the Mt. Baldy ski experience

In my recent article recapping the highlights of my 2022-23 ski season, I laid out a day at Mt. Baldy in detail:

There is a basic acceptance and understanding among New York City-based skiers that any hill within a three-hour orbit of Manhattan will be maximally oversold and intolerable at all peak times. Unless you go to Plattekill – a family-owned 1,100-footer tucked deep into the Catskills, with a double and a triple and ferocious double-blacks stacked along the frontside. Maybe because it lacks high-speed lifts, maybe because it sits down a tangle of poorly marked backroads, maybe because people just go where the buses go, maybe because parking is limited and that controls liftlines – but the place is never overwhelmed, even during peak season with peak snow.

LA’s version of Plattekill is Mt. Baldy. The crowds swarm Big Bear and Mountain High. But not Baldy, even though it’s right. Freaking. There. Fourteen miles and half an hour off the 210 freeway. An hour from downtown LA. And what a surreal, unbelievable, indescribable experience this place is.

The arrival likely puts the masses off. You foot-load a double chair that looks as though it was assembled from repurposed Noah’s Ark scrap and ride 20 minutes to where the ski area, essentially, begins (though in deep years you can ski all the way back to the parking lot – this was a deep year).

…

Here, more double chairs. Your choices, in the morning, are Chair 2 – for beginners, or southeast-facing Chair 4, looker’s left. This is all marked as blue terrain, but if the trees are live, it is a mad bazaar of gladed lines, nicely pitched for fast, wild turns through the widely spaced SoCal forest. There are no lift lines, even on a bluebird Saturday.

At around 1 or 1:30 – whenever the sun softens the northwest-facing terrain, or whenever they feel like it – Baldy Patrol shuts down Chair 4 and opens Chair 3. Here, vastly more vert, vastly more terrain, and vastly steeper pitch. This is big-mountain stuff, steep, wild, exposed, scary. Again, there are no liftlines. Fastlaps on this caliber of terrain – especially in California – are rare. But here you go. Feast.

And at the end of the day, venture onto The Face, the enormous steeps leading back to the bottom of Chair 1.

The Storm Skiing Journal and Podcast explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 45/100 in 2023, and number 431 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

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Who

Pete Woods, President of SkiBig3, the umbrella organization for Banff Sunshine, Lake Louise, and Mt. Norquay, Alberta

Recorded on

May 4, 2023

About SkiBig3

SkiBig3 “works in conjunction with all three ski resorts within Banff National Park to allow you access to everything this winter destination has to offer,” according to the organization’s LinkedIn page. Each ski area – Banff Sunshine, Lake Louise, and Mt. Norquay – is independently owned and operated.

Banff Sunshine

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Ralph, Sergei, and John Scurfield

Located in: Sunshine Village, Alberta

Year founded: Sometime in the 1930s

Pass affiliations: Ikon Pass: 5 or 7 combined days with Lake Louise and Mt. Norquay; Mountain Collective: 2 days

Closest neighboring ski areas: Norquay (23 minutes), Sunshine (41 minutes), Nakiska (1 hour) - travel times vary considerably depending upon weather and time of day.

Base elevation: 5,440 feet

Summit elevation: 8,954 feet

Vertical drop: 3,514 feet

Skiable Acres: 3,358

Average annual snowfall: 360 inches

Trail count: 137 (25% advanced/expert, 55% intermediate, 20% beginner)

Lift count: 12 (1 gondola, 7 high-speed quads, 2 fixed-grip quads, 2 carpets - view Lift Blog’s inventory of Sunshine’s lift fleet)

Sunshine chops its trailmap into three pieces on its website. This is slightly confusing for anyone who isn’t familiar with the ski area and doesn’t understand how the puzzle pieces fit together. I’ve included those three maps below, but they’ll make more sense in the context of this 2010 trailmap:

Sunshine’s current maps:

Lake Louise

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Charlie Locke (he first owned the ski area from 1981 to 2003, then sold it to Resorts of the Canadian Rockies, and re-bought it from them in 2008)

Located in: Lake Louise, Alberta

Year founded: 1954

Pass affiliations: Ikon Pass: 5 or 7 combined days with Banff Sunshine and Mt. Norquay; Mountain Collective: 2 days

Closest neighboring ski areas: Sunshine (41 minutes), Norquay (44 minutes), Nakiska (1 hour, 22 minutes) - travel times vary considerably depending upon weather and time of day.

Base elevation: 5,400 feet

Summit elevation: 8,650 feet

Vertical drop: 3,250 feet

Skiable Acres: 4,200

Average annual snowfall: 179 inches

Trail count: 164 (30% advanced/expert, 45% intermediate, 25% beginner)

Lift count: 11 (1 gondola, 1 six-pack, 3 high-speed quads, 2 fixed-grip quads, 1 triple, 3 carpets - view Lift Blog’s inventory of Lake Louise’s lift fleet)

Mt. Norquay

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Adam and Janet Waterous

Located in: Improvement District No. 9, Alberta

Year founded: 1926

Pass affiliations: Ikon Pass: 5 or 7 combined days with Banff Sunshine and Lake Louise

Closest neighboring ski areas: Sunshine (23 minutes), Lake Louise (43 minutes), Nakiska (54 minutes) - travel times vary considerably depending upon weather and time of day.

Base elevation: 5,350 feet

Summit elevation: 6,998 feet

Vertical drop: 1,650 feet

Skiable Acres: 190

Average annual snowfall: 120 inches

Trail count: 60 (44% advanced/expert, 25% intermediate, 31% beginner)

Lift count: 6 (1 high-speed quad, 2 fixed-grip quads, 1 double, 2 carpets - view Lift Blog’s inventory of Mt. Norquay’s lift fleet)

Why I interviewed him

There are places that make sense, and places that just don’t. Lakes and grocery stores and movie theaters and sand dunes and pizza places and interstate highways. As a U.S. American, these things always squared with my worldview. Then I stepped out of the car in New York City at age 19 and I’m like what the actual f**k is happening here? A vertical human swarm in a sprawling sideways nation. Or to take another example: cornfields and baitshops and gas stations and forests. As a Midwesterner I could understand those things. But then Lord of the Rings dropped and I was like what planet did they shoot this on and then I was like OK I guess that’s New Zealand.

Arriving in Banff is like that. Most visitors travel there via Calgary. Nothing against Calgary, but I’m not sure it’s a place that most of us go to on purpose. Skiers drop into the airport, leave the city, drive west. Flat forever. Then, suddenly, you are among mountains. Not just mountains, but the most amazing mountains you’ve ever seen, striated goliaths heaving skyward like something animate and immensely powerful, spokes of a great subterranean machine primed to punch through the earth like invaders from Cybertron.

Here, so surrounded, you arrive in Banff National Park. Within its boundaries: two towns, three ski areas. The towns are tight, walkable, lively, attractive. None of the hill-climbing megamansion claptrap that clutters the fringes of so many U.S. ski towns. Just a pair of glorious grand hotels airlifted, it seems, from the Alps. Two of the ski areas are Summit County scale, with lift plants and trail footprints to match Breck or Keystone or Copper. The third is a quirky locals’ bump with mogul fields studded like cash crops up the incline. All framed by those wild mountains.

It feels sort of European and sort of fantasyland Rockies and sort of like nothing else on Earth. It is, at the very least, like nothing else in North America. The texture here is rich. Banff’s most commonly cited attribute is its beauty. The most consistent point against is relatively low snowfalls compared to, say, SkiBig3’s Powder Highway neighbors or Whistler. But there is so much in between those gorgeous views and that modest snowfall that makes these three mountains one of the continent’s great ski destinations.

Like the towns themselves. In many ways, this is Canadian Aspen, with its multiple mountains knitted via shuttlebus, rich cuisine, walkable mountain villages. In other ways, it is what Aspen could have been. You have to work in Banff National Park to live there – that’s the law. The richness that adds to the community is incalculable. Imagine a Colorado so built? No second homes, no runaway short-term rental market. The ripple effects on traffic, on cost, on mood and energy are tangible and obvious. This is a place that works.

It’s not the only place that works, of course. And many of Banff’s bedrock operating principles would not be culturally transferable to the south. Including, perhaps, the spirit of bonhomie that unites three independently owned, competing ski areas under a single promotional umbrella called SkiBig3. Remember when Vail yanked its Colorado resorts out of Colorado Ski Country USA because the company didn’t want its dues to support competitors’ marketing? What’s happening in Banff is the opposite of that. It’s unique and it’s cool and it’s instructive, and it was worth a deep look to see exactly what’s going on up there.

What we talked about

The surprising international markets that Banff draws from; a welcome back to skiing’s melting pot; the tradition of the long season at Lake Louise and Sunshine; putting the ski areas’ relatively low average snowfall totals (compared to, say, Revelstoke), in context; which of the three mountains to visit based upon conditions; Banff’s immature uphill scene and massive potential; growing up in Boulder and ratpack skiing Summit County; the angst of the front-desk hotel clerk; the strange dynamic between ski resorts and their local airports; selling Purgatory to out-of-state tourists; the quirks of living and working in Telluride; the vastly different ski cultures in the two Colorados; the existential challenge of Copper Mountain; the power of Woodward; first reaction to Banff: “how can this even exist?”; defining SkiBig3 and who owns each of its three partner ski areas; how mass transit fills in for ski-in-ski-out lodging; Banff’s unique “need to reside” clause that enables workers of all levels to live right in town; the park’s incredible bus system; the proposed Norquay gondola up from town; a potential train from Calgary airport to Banff; Norquay’s wild North American pulse double chair; the history of Banff’s spectacular Fairmont hotels; the history of SkiBig3 and why the coalition has worked; competing with the Powder Highway; how Sunshine gets by with a single snowgun; why Sunshine gets double the snowfall of Lake Louise; why none of the three ski areas has ever hosted Olympic events, even when Calgary was the host city; decoding Parks Canada’s lease requirements that ski areas gift their assets to the agency or remove them at the end of their contracts; masterplans; why SkiBig3 was an early adopter of the Ikon Pass and why it’s stuck around; why the three ski areas offer combined days on Ikon; why Norquay isn’t part of Mountain Collective; why the Mountain Collective has been so resilient after the debut of Ikon; whether the Mountain Collective could add more Northeast ski areas; and why the ski areas have yet to transition to RFID cards.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

It has always been inevitable that The Storm would enter Canada. Just as it was always inevitable, back in 2019 and ’20, that it would outgrow New England. This template, I’ve realized, is adaptable to almost any ski market. Everywhere there is a ski area, there are skiers talking about it. And there is someone running it. And these two groups do not always understand each other. The mission of The Storm is to unite these them on a common platform.

There is a difference, of course, between scaling in a sustainable way and scaling for the sake of doing so. I’ve been very deliberate about The Storm’s growth so far. I started in the Northeast – New England, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania – because it was my local market and I understood it well. I stayed there – mostly – for two years before aggressively moving West in 2021. I learned to ski as a teenager in the Midwest, and I’d been skiing the West annually for decades, so none of this was new turf for me. Still, I had a lot to learn, and over the past two years, I have secured contacts and hosted a series of podcast interviews that gave me a far more nuanced understanding of every ski corner of the country.

Canada was the obvious next move. Culturally, the nations’ ski areas are very similar, with a western focus on off-piste powder-bombing and an eastern affinity for grooming. The trail markings, lift systems, and primacy of the automobile-as-access-point are consistent across the continent. And every U.S.-based megapass has integrated a substantial Canadian footprint as a selling point. International border aside, major U.S. and Canadian ski areas are as knotted together as those in Utah and Montana and Colorado.

So, where to begin? I wanted to start big. The Storm launched in 2019 with a podcast featuring Killington, the largest ski area in the East. Western podcast coverage began with Taos and Aspen. So Canada starts here, in one of its most glorious locales. Next stop: Sun Peaks, the second-largest ski area in the country. I recorded that one a few days ago. I’d had a Whistler podcast booked too, but their top executive moved to Aspen, so we called it off.

So, here we are, in Canada. Now what? Again, I’m going to move slowly. While America and Canada are culturally similar in many ways, they are enormously different in others. The ski regions here are many, vast, and nuanced. It’s going to take me a while to get to Quebec, which is home to something like 90 ski areas and a sizeable (for me), language barrier. The country is huge, and while I’ve traveled to and across Canada dozens of times, I’m not taking for granted that presence equals understanding.

I’ll probably stop at Canada. That’s not to say that I won’t occasionally dip into other ski regions, both as a visitor and as a journalist. I’ve scheduled an interview with the general manager of Valle Nevado, Chile for July. But I don’t think I’m capable of expanding this enterprise into other continents without diluting my coverage at home. Canada is purely additive. The region complements everything I already cover in the United States, especially multi-mountain passes. The world’s other ski regions are so vastly different and complex that it wouldn’t be like just adding more ski areas – it would be like adding coverage of sailing or surfing, completely different things that would only confuse the main plotline.

Questions I wish I’d asked

You may wonder why we don’t explore specifics of the ski areas as deeply as I normally do, particularly with all three being in possession of significant and well-articulated masterplans. It’s important, here, to understand what SkiBig3 is: an umbrella organization that promotes the mountains as a whole. I can pursue more meaningful conversations on granular plans with each operator at a later time.

What I got wrong

* I intimated that Vail, Aspen, and Telluride were “10 times bigger” than Purgatory. This is grossly incorrect. Purgatory checks in at 1,635 acres, while Vail Mountain measures 5,317 acres, Telluride is 2,000, and Aspen Mountain is just 673 (though it will grow substantially with the Pandora’s expansion this coming winter). If you combine Aspen Mountain with Aspen Highlands (1,010 acres), Buttermilk (435 acres), and Snowmass (3,342 acres), they add up to 5,460 – nowhere near 10 times the size of Purgatory. What I meant was that those three ski entities – Aspen, Vail, and Telluride – had far greater name recognition than Purgatory, which is tucked off the I-70 mainline in Southwest Colorado (as is Telluride).

* On the other end of that spectrum, I vastly over-estimated the size of Norquay, saying it was 1/10th the size of Sunshine and Lake Louise. At 190 acres, Norquay is 5.7 percent the size of Sunshine (3,358 acres), and just 4.5 percent the size of Lake Louise (4,200 acres).

* I said that Mountain Collective “keeps losing partners.” This is true, but it is a fact that must be considered within the context of this complementary note: Mountain Collective currently has one of the largest rosters in its 12-season history (the coalition is down one partner after Thredbo left this year). The pass has continued to grow in spite of the losses of Telluride, Mammoth, Palisades Tahoe, Sugarbush, Stowe, Whistler, and others over the years.

Why you should ski Sunshine, Lake Louise, and Mt. Norquay

Earlier I compared the three Banff ski areas to Summit County. That’s not really fair. Because Summit County has one thing that Sunshine, Lake Louise, and Norquay don’t really have to deal with: gigantic, relentless crowds.

For two years, U.S. Americans were shut out of Canada. Now we’re not. If you’ve been filling your winters with Ikon Pass trips around Salt Lake, I-70, and Tahoe, you might be wondering what the hell happened to skiing. Man it’s so busy now, all the freaking time. I hear you Bro. Go north. It’s this weird kind of hack. Like discount America (that exchange rate, Brah). Like time-machine America. Back to that late-‘90s/early-2000s interregnum, when the lifts were all built out and the reigns had been loosened on skiing off-piste, but the big passes hadn’t shown up with the entire state of Texas just yet.

I exaggerate a little. You can find liftlines in Canada if you do all the predictable things at all the predictable times. And the Ikon Pass and its destination checklist has blown the cover for lots of formerly clandestine places. But these are big mountains with long seasons. Woods tells me on the podcast that the locals’ favorite time at the SkiBig3 areas is April. The terrain is mostly all still live but the outsiders stop showing up. If you want to crowd-dodge your way north, you have a six-month season to figure it out.

As for the skiing itself, it’s as big and varied as anything on the continent. Lake Louise is sprawling and many-sided, with fast lifts flying all over the place and plenty more inbound. Sunshine is big and exposed, and the gondola is the only way up to the ski area, lending the place a patina of wild adventure. Both will give you as much off-piste as you can handle. Norquay is kind of like Pico or June Mountain of Snow King – a very good ski area that’s overlooked by its proximity to a far larger and more famous ski area. Don’t skip it: the place is a riot, with some of the longest sustained bump runs you’ll find anywhere.

Together, the three ski areas add up to 7,748 acres. Whistler is 8,171. So, samesies, basically. If you’re looking for a place to spend a week of skiing and you’re tired of the stampede, here you go.

Podcast Notes

On Banff’s UNESCO World Heritage sites designation

I note in the introduction that Banff National Park is on the list of UNESCO World Heritage Sites. The designation actually applies more broadly, to a group of parks dubbed “Canadian Rocky Mountain Parks.” This includes, according to UNESCO’s website, “the contiguous national parks of Banff, Jasper, Kootenay, and Yoho, as well as the Mount Robson, Mount Assiniboine and Hamber provincial parks…” You can view an interactive map of all UNESCO World Heritage sites here.

On Intrawest owning Copper Mountain

It can be tempting to consider our current multi-mountain pass allegiances to be inevitable and permanent. So much so that I often stir each mountain’s ownership histories up in the flow of conversation. This is what happened when I gave Powder Corp., the current owner of Copper Mountain, credit for installing the Woodward concept on that mountain. Woods pointed out that it was Intrawest, precursor to Alterra, that actually owned Copper at the time of Woodward’s debut, and that they had also considered planting the concept at another of their properties: Whistler.

Here’s a list of all of Intrawest’s ski areas, and where they ended up. It’s fun to imagine a world in which they’d stayed together:

On SkiBig3 Resort masterplans

Each of the three resorts has master development plans on file with Parks Canada:

Lake Louise

Here is a link to the full 2019 masterplan, and a summary image of proposed upgrades - note that the Lower Juniper and Summit chairlifts have already been installed, and Upper Juniper and Sunny Side are scheduled for a 2024 installation. The Summit Platter is no longer in service:

Sunshine

Sunshine’s latest full masterplan dates to 2018. The resort proposed amendments last year, and those are still under review by Parks Canada. Here’s an overview of proposed major lift upgrades:

Mt. Norquay

Sometimes tracking down these masterplan documents can be like trying to locate Amelia Earhart’s plane. I know it’s out there somewhere, but good luck finding it. The best I can do on Norquay is this link to their Vision 100 site, which lays out plans to replace the North American chair with a gondola, as shown below:

On Marilyn Monroe on the North American chair

So apparently this happened:

On the North American chair

I wrote about this chairlift a couple weeks back:

I’ve ridden a lot of chairlifts. I don’t know how many, but it’s hundreds. By far the strangest of these is the North American chair at Mt. Norquay. Once a regular fixed-grip double, the ski area converted it into a pulse lift with chairs running in groups of four. The operators manually slow the entire line as the chairs enter the top and bottom stations (I’m assuming the line is set so that chairs reach the base and summit at the same time). This chair serves some bomber terrain, a vast mogul field with dipsy-do double fall-lines and the greatest views in the world.

It’s a strange one, for sure:

The Storm Skiing explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 46/100 in 2023, and number 432 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

This podcast hit paid subscribers’ inboxes on June 7. It dropped for free subscribers on June 10. To receive future pods as soon as they’re live, and to support independent ski journalism, please consider an upgrade to a paid subscription. You can also subscribe for free below:

Who

Mike Hussey, General Manager of Middlebury College Snowbowl, Vermont

Recorded on

May 15, 2023

About Middlebury Snowbowl

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Middlebury College

Located in: Hancock, Vermont

Year founded: 1936

Pass affiliations: Indy Pass Allied Resort

Reciprocal partners: None

Closest neighboring ski areas: Sugarbush (38 minutes), Mad River Glen (43 minutes), Pico (45 minutes), Killington (49 minutes)

Base elevation: 1,720 feet

Summit elevation: 2,720 feet

Vertical drop: 1,000 feet

Skiable Acres: 100 on-trail; 600+ woods and glades

Average annual snowfall: 200 inches

Trail count: 17 (8 advanced/expert, 4 intermediate, 5 beginner) + 11 glades

Lift count: 4 (1 fixed-grip quad [to replace Sheehan double for 2023-24 ski season], 2 triples, 1 carpet – view Lift Blog’s inventory of Middlebury Snowbowl’s lift fleet)

Why I interviewed him

I’ve held Michigan Wolverines football season tickets for the past 15 years. The team’s 12-game schedule acts as a sort of life framework for three months each fall. Where the team goes, I often go: Oklahoma in 2025, Texas in 2027, Washington in 2028. Plus Ann Arbor, all the time, for home games. I like big games, ranked opponents, rivalries. This year’s home schedule is a stinker: East Carolina, UNLV, Bowling Green, Rutgers, Indiana, Purdue, Ohio State. To be a Michigan fan is to assume the boys will win those first six easily before a fistfight with the Buckeyes. In college football, big brand names get nearly all the glory nearly all the time.

Skiing is a little bit like that. Ask your friend who skis three to 10 days per year where they go, and you’ll likely get a list of familiars: Mammoth, Park City, Breck, Vail. In New England or New York, the list will be some mix of Stratton, Mount Snow, Okemo, Killington, Sugarbush, Hunter, Windham. All fine mountains, and all worthy of three-day Dan’s discretionary skiing dollars. They will get his social media posts and elevator chats too. In skiing, as in college football, legacy and brand mean a hell of a lot.

Which takes us to Middlebury Snowbowl (though you’re probably wondering how). Being a thousand-vertical foot ski area in Vermont is a little like being the Rutgers football team in the Big 10. You know you’re going to lose most of your games most of the time: Rutgers is 12-58 in Big 10 play since joining the conference in 2014. And no wonder: officials slotted the team in the East division, alongside blue chips Ohio State (69-6 in Big 10 play since 2014), Michigan (53-22), and Penn State (49-30). Rutgers is 1-26 against those three teams over that span (the one win was versus Michigan in 2014; yes, I was at that game; yes, it was clear that the Rutgers fans had not been there before).

Vermont state highway 100 is the Big 10 East of New England skiing: Mount Snow, Okemo, Killington, Sugarbush, Mad River Glen, Stowe, and Smugglers’ Notch all sit along or near this north-south route. So does Middlebury Snowbowl. Here’s how they all stack up:

It’s all a little incongruous, this land of giants and speedbumps and not much in between. Skiers have shown little mercy for mid-sized ski areas in Vermont. Snow Valley, Plymouth Notch, and Maple Valley have all gone extinct. Ascutney, now a surface-lift bump, was once an 1,800-footer with a high-speed quad. Magic was shuttered for years before pinpointing a scrappy-rebel narrative upon which it could thrive. Saskadena Six and Quechee are both attached to larger entities who maintain the ski hills as guest and resident amenities. Even Bolton Valley missed a season in the late ‘90s during a problematic ownership transition period.

Middlebury Snowbowl, of course, has survived since 1936 as a protectorate of Middlebury College, which owns the facility. But money-losing ski areas subsidized by larger entities are out of fashion. The world knows such arrangements are unnecessary; ski areas can and should be self-sustaining. See: Gunstock, Bogus Basin, Bridger Bowl, Mt. Ashland. Mike Hussey knows this, and he has a vision to make the Snowbowl a strong independent business. Oddly, the small ski area’s proximity to giants may finally be a positive – as Killington and Sugarbush have driven peak-day lift ticket prices over $200, the Snowbowl has remained an affordable alternative that delivers a scaled-down but still substantial ski experience. Is this Middlebury’s moment? I had to find out.

What we talked about

Middlebury’s huge increases in skier visits over the past few seasons; XC snowmaking at Rickert; miracle March; competing in a rapidly changing Vermont and why megapasses and consolidation have been good for most independent ski areas; Middlebury’s parking problem; why Middlebury College owns a ski area; the coolest college graduation ceremony in skiing; Middlebury College 101; the relationship between the college and the ski area; whether the ski area does or can make money; a brief history of HKD Snowmakers; transforming Rikert from a locals’ slidepath to a modern Nordic ski area; how the college’s board of trustees reacted to suggestions that the school close down Rickert and Snowbowl; how Snowbowl lured students back by changing its season pass structure; the Sheehan chairlift upgrade; reflecting on the Worth Mountain lift upgrade to a triple and why Middlebury went with a quad this time; the importance of Skytrac; why Middlebury is introducing night-skiing and where that footprint will sit; why Middlebury keeps only a minimalist terrain park; navigating Act 250 approval; what’s fueling Snowbowl’s massive investment; potential future snowmaking and parking upgrades; Lake Pleiad; doing the math on Middlebury’s massive acreage counts; glade culture; that wacky trailmap; expansion opportunities; so many season pass options; the season pass punch-card benefit; and the Indy Pass.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

Suddenly, Middlebury is booming. Skier visits popped 20 percent this past winter, after soaring 60 percent during the 2021-22 ski season. And while the college still subsidizes ski area operations, management is reinvesting with the hopes of reaching self-sufficiency long term. This summer, Middlebury will install night-skiing and replace the Sheehan double with a brand-new Skytrac quad.

What’s going on? Why is a thousand-footer jammed between Killington and Sugarbush exploding? Wasn’t the Epkon Godzilla supposed to leave nothing but craters and a dozen super resorts as it bulldozed its way across New England?

Skiers seem to be telling us that there is room in the marketplace for a ski area that acts like ski areas did for 80 years. Before $200 lift tickets. Before Colorado HQ. Before checklist tourism. Before the social media flex. Before chairlifts could load the population of Delaware into a single carrier.

At Middlebury Snowbowl, a minivan filled with the six members of the Parker family of Hancock Vermont can roll into the parking lot on a weekend morning, pay rack rate for lift tickets, and ski all day without waiting in line. They can wander and explore and not get bored. Middlebury’s trail network is limited by big-mountain Vermont standards, but there’s plenty there. Especially if there’s snow on the ground and the Parker clan can handle some light trees. The place sprawls over hundreds of acres, deceptively large.

There’s a desire and a demand for places like Middlebury Snowbowl right now. For something easier and cleaner and cheaper. More atmosphere and less circus. A day on skis that’s just about the skiing.

What I got wrong

I described Vermont’s Act 250 as a state law that governs how ski areas can develop. That’s partially correct but somewhat misstates the purpose and intent of the law, which applies to land use and development as a whole across the state. From Vermont’s official Natural Resources Board website:

Act 250 (10 V.S.A. Chapter 151) is Vermont’s land use and development law, enacted in 1970 at a time when Vermont was undergoing significant development pressure. The law provides a public, quasi-judicial process for reviewing and managing the environmental, social and fiscal consequences of major subdivisions and developments in Vermont. It assures that larger developments compliment Vermont’s unique landscape, economy and community needs. …

The effects of Act 250 are most clear when one compares Vermont’s pristine landscape with most other states.  Protecting Vermont’s environmental integrity and the strength of our communities benefits everyone, forming a strong basis for both our economy and our quality of life.

The Act 250 process balances environmental and community concerns; a tall order which at times can be complex. Developers, engineers and consultants best navigate the Act 250 process by planning their project, from the earliest stages, with the 10 criteria in mind.

As a result of Act 250 and the planning process, project designs, landscaping plans and color schemes fit the landscape.  Act 250 has helped Vermont retain its unsurpassed scenic qualities while undergoing the substantial growth of the last 5 decades.  Act 250 is also critical because it requires development to conform to municipal and regional plans and Vermont’s land use planning goals.

The Act 250 criteria have protected many important natural and cultural resources — water and air quality, wildlife habitat and agricultural soils (just to name a few) — that have long been valued by Vermonters and that are an important part of the state’s economy. No single law can protect all of Vermont’s unique attributes — but Act 250 plays a critical role in maintaining the quality of life that Vermonters enjoy.

The law, for all its benefits, is often viewed as a regulatory burden that considerably stunted the potential of Vermont’s ski areas over the long term. The late Chris Diamond examined the impacts of Act 250 at length in his book, Ski Inc. 2020:

In short order, the ski area operators became the bad guys, the most visible incarnation of the capitalist beast, to these newcomers [in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s]. Over time, the enmity – or, at a minimum, distrust – was formalized in a regulatory structure that made day-to-day business life incredibly difficult. Capitalism brings a certain messiness and unpredictability, something the new political majority would not tolerate. Vermont basically tried to have it both ways: a healthy economy and some of the nation’s most restrictive land-use laws. Given a ski area’s impact on the natural and social environment, they were disproportionately impacted. Water-quality regulations made it impossible or extraordinarily expensive to expand snowmaking operations. Other criteria under the state’s landmark environmental law, Act 250, were aimed at growth issues. The permitting process gave significant influence to those representing the status quo. So it shouldn’t be surprising to note that, generally, the status quo was protected. For most rural areas, that meant zero or slow growth. An unintended but inevitable result: As decades passed and people moved on, the population base began to shrink. …

My view is that the current situation would be less dire if the state’s ski communities were as economically vigorous as their Western counterparts. …

During the ‘90s, growth in most of Vermont’s ski towns ground to a halt. A notable exception was Okemo, where the Mueller family managed a significant terrain expansion, a second base area, and a related real-estate development. Although their operating competence and focus on service were largely the catalysts, they also benefited from their location in the former manufacturing-based economy of Ludlow. Here the status quo was arguably more focused on economic survival. The Muellers also proved themselves exceptionally skilled at navigating the permit process.

The bigger challenge for most Vermont resorts remained water for snowmaking. Most have finally managed to navigate their way to a solution and now offer a competitive product, albeit at great cost and with significant delays. (For Mount Snow that process took over 30 years). With that, and all the other changes that are occurring within the ski realm, I do believe they face a brighter future. Vermont ski towns will continue to evolve into important economic centers. But in my view, they will not be what they might have been.

Diamond was a smart guy, and ran Mount Snow and Steamboat over the course of several decades. Ski Inc. 2020 and its companion book, Ski Inc. are must-reads for anyone who enjoys this newsletter. But while I agree with much of Diamond’s analysis above, I floated this notion of Act 250-as-development killer to a prominent Vermont resort operator last year. That individual waved their hand toward the base area we were sitting in and the stacks of condos rolling up the hillside. “Well, we built all this,” they said. And Vermont does offer considerably more ski-in, ski-out accommodations than, say, New York. Killington is finally moving ahead with their base village, and the state is home to the best and most-advanced lift systems in the Northeast.

So something’s working there. The truth, as always, is probably somewhere in between the extremes of the build-it-all and build-nothing-at-all fundamentalists.

Why you should ski Middlebury Snowbowl

Every year, more megapasses move into the marketplace. But neither Vail nor Alterra has added a new ski area in the Northeast since Windham joined the Ikon Pass in 2020 (Seven Springs, which joined the Epic Pass in 2022, really serves the Mid-Atlantic and Midwest). It’s fair to assume that more skiers are trying to cram into an unchanging number of ski areas each season. And while the mountains can somewhat mitigate peak-day crowds with advanced reservations, lift-ticket limitations, and higher-capacity chairlifts, skiers also have a crowd-control mechanism at their disposal: go somewhere else.

Savvy Northeast skiers know how to people-dodge. Sure, go to Killington, Sugarbush, Stowe, Loon, and Cannon. They are all spectacular. But on weekends, unlatch the secret weapons on the ski-area utility belt: Plattekill, Berkshire East, Elk, Black Mountain in New Hampshire and Black Mountain of Maine. Excellent ski areas, all, lacking their competitors’ size and crowds but none of their thrill and muscle.

Middlebury Snowbowl belongs on this list. True, 1,000 feet of vert makes Middlebury the 16th-tallest ski area in the state of Vermont. And unlike people, the ski area can’t just buy a bigger pickup truck to compensate. But 1,000 vertical feet is a good ski run. Especially when it’s fed by 200 inches of average annual snowfall that doesn’t get shredded by Epkonitron hordes trampling off high-speed chairlifts.

At some point, each skier has to decide: will they ski the same dozen ski areas they’ve always skied and that everyone else they know has always skied, or will they roam a bit, taste test, see if they need that high-speed lift as much as they think you do. Or do they give that up – even if just for a day – to view the snow from a different angle?

Podcast Notes

On Vermont being a sparsely populated state

Despite its outsized presence in the U.S. ski industry – the state typically ranks fourth in skier visits behind Colorado, California, and Utah – Vermont is tiny by just about any measure. It’s the seventh-smallest U.S. state by size and the second-smallest by population, with around 650,000 residents (Wyoming is last with just 580,000). This surprised me, mostly because the state is so close to so many population centers (New England is home to nearly 15 million people; New York to another 20.5 million).

On the U.S. ski industry’s massive investment

Hussey and I briefly discuss the U.S. ski industry’s massive capital investment for this past season. The exact number was $812.4 million, according to the National Ski Areas Association.

On that punchcard

Middlebury Snowbowl offers one of the best season pass perks of any ski area in New England: each pass includes a punch card good for four lift tickets. This solves a season passholder’s greatest irritation: dragging along cheap-ass procrastinating friends who can’t be bothered to buy anything in advance but also don’t want to donate a lung to pay for a Saturday lift ticket. Or the friend who has an Ikon Pass and is horrified by the idea of paying for another day of skiing beyond that massive investment. The card is transferrable and has no blackouts.

On the Indy Pass Allied and XC programs

The Indy Pass has done a marvelous job adapting to a complex industry. This can be a bit confusing, as Hussey outlines in the podcast – some Indy Pass holders show up to Middlebury expecting “free”* lift tickets. But the ski area is part of the Allied Resorts program, which gets skiers half off on non-holiday weekdays, and 25 percent off at other times. I analyzed the Allied program at length here.

Lift tickets to Rickert Nordic Center, which Hussey also manages, are included on the Indy Pass and the drastically discounted Indy XC Pass. I discussed that pass here.

*Megapass lift tickets are also characterized as being “free,” but that is incorrect: the passholder paid for the pass in advance, and is simply redeeming a product they’ve pre-purchased.

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing all year round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 49/100 in 2023, and number 435 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

This podcast hit paid subscribers’ inboxes on June 13. It dropped for free subscribers on June 16. To receive future pods as soon as they’re live, and to support independent ski journalism, please consider an upgrade to a paid subscription. You can also subscribe for free below:

Who

Darcy Alexander, Vice President and General Manager of Sun Peaks, British Columbia

Recorded on

May 23, 2023

About Sun Peaks

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Nippon Cable Company

Located in: Sun Peaks, British Columbia

Year founded: 1961, as Tod Mountain

Pass affiliations: Ikon Pass: 5 or 7 days; Mountain Collective: 2 days

Reciprocal partners: 2 days at Silver Star

Closest neighboring ski areas: Harper Mountain (58 minutes), Silver Star (2 hours, 20 minutes)

Base elevation: 3,930 feet

Summit elevation: 6,824 feet

Vertical drop: 2,894 feet

Skiable Acres: 4,270

Average annual snowfall: 237 inches

Trail count: 138 trails and 19 glades (32% advanced/expert, 58% intermediate, 10% beginner)

Lift count: 13 (3 high-speed quads, 4 fixed-grip quads, 2 platters, 4 carpets - view Lift Blog’s inventory of Sun Peaks’ lift fleet) – Sun Peaks will build a fourth high-speed quad, West Bowl Express, in 2024

Why I interviewed him

Because this freaking province, man. Twenty-nine ski areas with vertical drops over 1,000 feet. Fourteen soar beyond 2,000. Five cross the 3,000-foot mark. Four pass 4,000. And BC is home to the only two ski areas in North America that give you 5,000 or more vertical feet: Whistler and King Revelstoke. Thirteen BC bumps deliver 1,000-plus acres of terrain, and at least 20 load up on 200 inches or more of snow per season. Check these stats:

British Columbia is like the Lamborghini dealership of skiing. Lots of power, lots of flash, lots of hot damn is that real? No duds. Nothing you’d be embarrassed to pick up a date in. A few community bumps, sure. But the BC Bros can stack their power towers – Big White, Fernie, Kicking Horse, Kimberley, Panorama, Red, Revelstoke, Silver Star, Sun Peaks, Whistler, and Whitewater – against any collection of ski areas anywhere on the planet and feel pretty good about winning that knife fight.

And yet, even in this Seal Team Six of ski resorts, Sun Peaks looks heroic, epaulets and medals dangling from its dress blues. This is the second-largest ski area in Canada. Ponder that BC ski roster again to understand what that means: Sun Peaks gives you more acreage than anything on the famed Powder Highway, more than Revy or Red or Kicking Horse or Fernie. Turn north at Kamloops, east at Hefley Creek, and get lost at the end of the valley.

But Sun Peaks’ sheer size is less impressive than how the resort won those big-mountain stats. “British Columbia has probably the most progressive ski resort development policy in the world,” Alexander tells me in the podcast. When he arrived at the bump that was then called “Tod Mountain” in 1993, the place was three chairlifts and some surface movers serving a single peak:

Over the next 30 years, Nippon Cable transformed the joint into a vast ski Narnia not only because they were willing to funnel vast capital into the hill, but because the BC government let them do it, under a set of rules known as the B.C. Commercial Alpine Ski policy. While inspiring, this is not an unusual ski area evolution tale for Western Canada. Compare the 10 largest BC ski areas today to the 10 largest in 1994:

The acreage explosions at all but Whistler-Blackcomb (which at the time operated as independent ski areas), are astonishing. To underscore the point, check out the same years’ comparison for the 10-largest U.S. ski areas:

Certainly, the U.S. has seen some dramatic shuffling, especially as Vail and Alterra combined Canyons with Park City and Alpine Meadows with the ski area formerly known as Squaw Valley to form the megaresorts of Park City and Palisades Tahoe. That Big Sky didn’t measure on the top 10 in 1994 – the tram didn’t arrive until 1995 – is amazing. But the Western U.S., in 1994, was already home to legions of enormous ski resorts. That Heavenly, Mammoth, and Jackson Hole are the exact same size today as they were 29 years ago illustrates the difference between the two countries’ attitudes toward ski resort expansion and development. Canada nurtures growth. The U.S. makes it as difficult as possible. Indeed, the reason Big Sky was able to ascend to monster status is that the resort sits entirely on private land, immunizing it from Forest Service bureaucracy and the endless public challenges that attend it.

Sun Peaks is a case study in BC’s development-friendly policies actualized. More important: the resort’s evolution is a case study in smart, transit-oriented, pedestrian-friendly development. Alexander explains in the podcast that the long-range goal has been to build not just walkable base villages, but a walkable community stretching from one end of the valley to the other. This is the point that’s so often missed in the United States: not all growth and development is bad. The reckless, developer-driven, luxury-focused, disconnected sprawl that is U.S. America’s default building mode is terrible and inhuman and ought to be curtailed. Deliberate, dense, interconnected, metered development based upon a community masterplan - which is what Sun Peaks is doing - should be encouraged.

This sort of thoughtful growth does not dilute mountain communities. It creates them. Rather than trying to freeze development in time – a posture that only kicks sprawl ever farther out from the mountains and leads directly to the traffic addling so many Western U.S. ski towns – BC has enabled and empowered the sort of place-building that will create sustainable mountain communities over the long term. It’s an inspiring model, and one that The Storm will examine intensely as I focus more deliberately on Canada.

What we talked about

Record skier visits; bringing back that international vibe; touring Western Canada; Sun Peaks’ first season on the Ikon Pass; the secret giant; how to dodge what few liftlines the resort has; the Mountain Collective as Ikon test run; Tod Mountain in the early 1990s; ski area masterplanning; Sunshine Village; growing Sun Peaks from backwater to the second-largest ski area in Canada; Nippon Cable, the Japanese lift manufacturer that owns Sun Peaks; why Sun Peaks doesn’t use Nippon lifts; why Sun Peaks changed its name from “Tod Mountain” in 1993; an interesting tidbit about Whistler ownership; whether Sun Peaks ever considered joining the Epic Pass; Sun Peaks’ masterplan; potential terrain expansions; upgrade potential for Sunburst and Sundance lifts; future lift additions; “the guy who serves the most ski terrain with the fewest lifts is the most efficient”; going deep on the coming West Bowl Express quad and the new terrain that will go along with it; why Sun Peaks retired the West Bowl T-bar before replacing it; better access to Gil’s; why Sun Peaks is building the lift over three summers; the amazing Burfield lift, a fixed-grip quad that stretches nearly 3,000 vertical feet; potentially shortening that lift; why Burfield will likely never be a high-speed lift; prioritizing lift projects after West Bowl; converting – not replacing – Orient from a fixed-grip quad to a high-speed quad or six-pack; village-building; the potential major lift that’s not on Sun Peaks’ masterplan; and potentially connecting the resort to the Trans-Canada highway by paved road from the east.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

In April, Sun Peaks announced construction of a new high-speed quad in West Bowl for the 2024-25 ski season. The lift will replace the West Bowl T-bar, visible on this circa 2019 trailmap, on a longer line that pushes the boundary away from the 7 Mile Road trail:

The resort will lengthen the existing trails to meet the new lift’s load point down the mountain, as Alexander explains in the podcast.

This will be Sun Peaks’ third new chairlift in three years, following new fixed-grip quads at Crystal and Orient in 2020 and 2018, respectively. Sun Peaks approaches chairlift construction in a unique manner, with a history of building lifts as fixed-grip machines and then upgrading them to high-speed lifts later on. Orient, for example, may evolve into a high-speed six-pack that lands several hundred more feet up the mountain. Slowly, deliberately, endlessly, Sun Peaks grows and evolves.

While Alexander and his team continue to stack bricks into the resort’s foundation, they simultaneously grow the mountain’s profile. A few years back, the resort joined the Mountain Collective. Last October, it joined Ikon. And, kaboom: no more secret at the end of the road.

That’s a good thing. If these BC giants are to thrive, they’re going to need help outside the province, which hosts a population of approximately 5 million in an area the size of California (39 million residents), Colorado (5.8 million), and Utah (3.4 million) combined. That means bringing skiers burned out on Summit County and Wasatch liftlines across the border, where big ski resorts continue to get bigger and the liftlines rarely form (outside of the West Coast).

I don’t want to overstate the scale of what’s happening in BC – certainly big projects still can and do happen in America. And even as they grow fat by North American standards, most of the province’s biggest ski areas still look like birdbaths compared to the ski circuses of Europe. But imagine if, over the next 30 years, 480-acre Ski Cooper transformed into 5,317-acre Vail Mountain. That is essentially what’s happened at Sun Peaks since 1993, where a small community bump evolved into an international destination resort 10 times its original size. And they’re nowhere near finished – Sun Peaks’ masterplan (pg. 141), outlines a monster facility at full build-out:

The Mountain Master Plan … will ultimately include a total of 26 ski lifts, including one pulse gondola, one 10G/8C Combi lift one detachable grip six-passenger chairlift, four detachable quadruple chairlifts, nine fixed grip quadruple chairlifts, four platter lifts and approximately two beginner moving carpet lifts, with a total combined rated capacity of about 41,186 passengers per hour … The overall Phase 4 [Skier Comfortable Carrying Capacity] will be approximately 14,830 skiers per day. … there will be 225 trails providing 177.5 kilometers of skiing on [1,895 acres] of terrain.

Here’s a conceptual map of Sun Peaks at full build-out:

While plenty of BC ski areas have evolved over the past several decades, no one has accomplished the trick more steadily or with such deliberate, constant momentum as Sun Peaks. It was time to check in to see how they’d done it, and what was going to happen next.

What I got wrong

As is my habit, I introduced Sun Peaks as defined by our U.S. American measurement system of feet and acres. Which is not that unusual – this is a U.S. American-based podcast. However, as a courtesy to my Canadian guests, listeners, and readers, I should have also offered the equivalent measurements in meters. Only I am a dumb U.S. American so I don’t actually know how to do these conversions. Sorry about that.

Why you should ski Sun Peaks

The Ikon Pass is an incredible thing. Purchase one in the spring and spend the following winter bouncing across the snowy horizons. Hit half a dozen of the continent’s greatest resorts in Utah, big-mountain hop in Colorado, spend a week in Tahoe or skimming between peaks at Big Sky. Or go to Canada – 10 Ikon destinations sit in the northland, and seven of them crouch in a neat circle straddling BC and Alberta: Norquay, Lake Louise, Sunshine, Panorama, Red, Sun Peaks, and Revelstoke:

You could complete that circle in around 17 hours of driving. Which is not much if you’re rolling through a two-week roadie and spending two or three days at each resort. Some of them could occupy far more time. Sun Peaks can eat up a week pretty easily. But for the resort-hoppers among us, an Ikon or Mountain Collective pass includes days at Canada’s second-largest ski area on its ready-to-eat buffet. Here’s a look at every Canadian ski area that participates in a U.S.-based megapass:

So the first reason to ski Sun Peaks is that you probably already have access to it. But there’s something else – you can just go there and ski. As much as I love the ski resorts of Colorado and Utah, they are just too easy to access for too many people. That’s great, but skiing in those powder holes requires a certain patience, an expectation of some kind of madness, a willingness to tweak the algorithm to see what combination of snowfall, open terrain, day of the week, and time of day yields the most open path between you and turns.

That calculus is a little easier at Sun Peaks: just show up whenever you want and start skiing. Outside of Whistler, the big-mountain resorts of BC resemble the big-mountain resorts of the American West 40 years ago. Endless labyrinths of untamed terrain, no one to race off the ropeline. BC’s collective ski resorts have evolved much faster than the market’s realization that there is another set of Rocky Mountain resorts stacked on top of the Rocky Mountain resorts of U.S. America. That’s a lot of terrain to roam. And all you need is a passport. Go get it.

Podcast Notes

On building an alternate route into Sun Peaks from the east

Most visitors to Sun Peaks are going to spend some time traveling to the resort along the Trans-Canada Highway. Eastbound travelers will simply turn north at Kamloops and then right at Heffley Creek. Westbound travelers pass within five miles of the resort’s southeast edge as they drive through Chase, but must continue toward Kamloops before turning toward Sun Peaks – nearly an hour and a half on clear roads. There is a mountain road, unpaved and impassable in wintertime (marked in yellow below), and long-simmering plans for an alternate, less death-defying paved path that could be open year-round (market in blue below). Alexander and I discussed this road, and he seemed optimistic that it will, eventually, get built. Given Sun Peaks’ record of actualizing the improbable, I share his outlook. Here’s a map of the whole mess:

On Nippon Cable and Whistler

While Sun Peaks presents as an independent ski area, it is in fact part of a Japan-based conglomerate called Nippon Cable. This is primarily a lift manufacturer, but Nippon also owns a number of ski areas in Japan and 25 percent of Whistler (seriously). Read more about their properties here.

On Big Bam ski area

Alexander mentions Big Bam ski area, which sits along the Pine River just west of the Alaska Highway and south of Fort St. John. Here’s a homemade trailmap that someone codenamed “Skier72” posted on skimap.org, with the caption, “Approx. Trails at Big Bam. Made with Google Earth. Top lift is future quad chair, bottom lift is rope tow”:

Big Bam is a volunteer-run, weekends-only organization with 180 feet of vert. You can follow them on Facebook (their last Instapost was in 2014). Alexander mentioned that the ski area had moved from its original location, though I couldn’t find any information on the old hill. The place has had a rough go – it re-opened (I believe in the current location), in 2009, and was closed from 2016 to 2019 before turning the lifts on again. They seem desperate for a chairlift. If anyone knows more about the Big Bam story, please let me know.

On Sun Peaks spare lift fleet

Alexander notes that Sun Peaks “might have the least number of lifts for a resort of our size” on the continent. Indeed, the ski area has the third-fewest number of lifts among North America’s 10 largest ski areas:

On the Burfield chairlift

Stow this one for ski club trivia night: Sun Peaks is home to what is very likely the longest fixed-grip chairlift in the world. The Burfield quad rises 2,890 vertical feet on a 9,510-foot-long line. According to Lift Blog, ride time is 21 minutes, and the carriers are 115 feet apart. The lift’s hourly capacity is just 470 riders – compare that to the Crystal fixed-grip quad right beside it, which can move up to 2,400 skiers per hour.

The Storm Skiing Journal and Podcast explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 50/100 in 2023, and number 436 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

This podcast hit paid subscribers’ inboxes on June 15. It dropped for free subscribers on June 18. To receive future pods as soon as they’re live, and to support independent ski journalism, please consider an upgrade to a paid subscription. You can also subscribe for free below:

Who

Keith Kreischer, General Manager of Granite Gorge, New Hampshire

Recorded on

May 30, 2023

About Granite Gorge

Owned by: Granite Gorge Partnership LLC, a group of local investors

Located in: Roxbury, New Hampshire

Year founded: 1959

Pass affiliations: None

Reciprocal partners: None

Closest neighboring ski areas: Crotched (32 minutes), Brattleboro (32 minutes), Bellows Falls (35 minutes), Pats Peak (37 minutes), Mount Sunapee (50 minutes), Arrowhead (50 minutes), Ascutney (58 minutes), McIntyre (1 hour), Hermitage Club (1 hour, 6 minutes), Mount Snow (1 hour, 9 minutes), Magic (1 hour, 3 minutes), Wachusett (1 hour, 7 minutes), Bromley (1 hour, 13 minutes), Berkshire East (1 hour, 13 minutes), Okemo (1 hour, 13 minutes), Veterans Memorial (1 hour, 14 minutes), Ragged Mountain (1 hour, 16 minutes), Stratton (1 hour, 18 minutes)

Base elevation: 800 feet

Summit elevation: 1,325 feet

Vertical drop: 525 feet

Skiable Acres: 25

Average annual snowfall: 100 inches

Trail count: 17 (2 expert, 3 advanced, 5 intermediate, 7 beginner)

Lift count: 3 (1 double, 1 handletow, 1 carpet)

Why I interviewed him

It doesn’t happen often, these comebacks. Ski areas die and they stay dead. Or they die and return and die again and then they’re really gone.

We’re at a weird inflection point. After decades of exploding numbers followed by decades of divebombing ranks, the number of U.S. ski areas has stabilized over the past 20 years. Most of the ski areas that are going to die already have. Most of the ones that remain will survive indefinitely. Yes, climate change. But this has been a long-simmering storm and operators have strung lines of snowguns like cannons along a castle wall. They are ready to fight and they will.

They have plenty to fight for. In most of U.S. America, it is all but impossible to build a new ski area. Imagine if no one could build a new restaurant or grocery store. The owners of existing restaurants and grocery stores would rejoice, knowing that anyone who wanted to eat out or buy a banana would have to do it through them. Such is the state of U.S. skiing – what we have is all we’re ever going to get*. The established mountains are not exactly monopolies, but they do not have to worry about unexpected new competition, either.

There is one hack: if a would-be owner can find an abandoned ski area, the path to selling lift tickets and hauling weekenders up the incline becomes infinitely easier. It’s the difference between fixing up a junkyard car and assembling one from the raw elements of the earth. You’d have a better chance of building a time machine out of cardboard boxes and a Nintendo Game Boy than you would of constructing a ski area on a raw New England hillside. But find one already scarred with the spiderweb of named trails, and you have a chance.

It’s not a good chance. Ski areas do come back: Saddleback in 2020, Tenney and Granite Gorge in 2023. Les Otten may bring the Balsams Wilderness back as a mega-resort. But most simply fade. There are hundreds of lost ski areas in New England – many times more have died than survived. Many big and established ski centers evaporated: Mt. Tom, Brodie, Crotched East, King Ridge, Moose Mountain, Mt. Whittier, Maple Valley, Plymouth Notch, Snow Valley. Empty lifts still swing over many of these mountains decades after they went bust, but none ever found its way back.

So why this one? Why Granite Gorge? A small ski area in a state stuffed with giant ski areas, many of them a mainline shot off the interstate from Boston. Once the joint closed after a rough winter in 1977, that should have been it. Another lost ski area in a state littered with them.

But then Granite Gorge re-opened, miraculously, improbably, in 2003, under Fred Baybutt, who also ran a local construction company with his family. Baybutt added snowmaking and night skiing, built a new lodge and a new bridge over from Route 9. He bought a used Borvig double and ran it to the summit.

But the ski area never really found momentum under Baybutt. By 2018, the chairlift had ceased operations. The ropetow and carpet continued to spin, but in August 2020, Baybutt died suddenly, and the ski area appeared to die with him.

Except that it didn’t. Granite Gorge is back. Somehow, this 525-vertical foot, low-elevation molehill whose direct competitors include basically every ski area in Vermont, New Hampshire, and Massachusetts has more lives than a cartoon coyote smashed under an anvil. It’s one of the best stories in New England skiing right now, and I had to hear it.

*With rare exceptions, such as the forthcoming Mayflower, Utah.

What we talked about

What it’s like to take that first general manager job; an overgrown mess; “I had to keep in mind that there was going to be an unlimited amount of punches that were going to be dealt”; how a busted Ford Taurus and a can of Red Bull foreshadowed the renaissance of Granite Gorge; Kreischer’s messianic, decade-long quest to rescue Granite Gorge; how an ownership group “who really just wanted this thing back in the hands of the community” came together; advice for up-and-comers in the ski business; trying to save the lost Tanglwood ski area in Pennsylvania or Maple Valley in Vermont; Granite Gorge under the Baybutt family, the previous owners; Keene, New Hampshire; the rabid outdoor culture in the Northeast; how this time is different at Granite Gorge; fixing the bridge back to the ski area; helping ownership understand the enormous capital needs; the power of admitting your shortcomings; “if you don’t know something, you need to find someone who does”; the comeback season was “awesome”; much love for Mountain Creek; finding a niche at Nashoba Valley; reviving the Granite Gorge double chair; why the ski area removed the lift’s mid-station; Granite Gorge’s snowmaking footprint and aspirations; how the ski area’s new mountain bike operation will enhance glade skiing; surviving as a small ski area in a big ski state; night skiing; building terrain parks at an appropriate scale for mortals; running a mountain as a dad with five children; keeping lift tickets and passes affordable; a parking shortage; and competing against megapasses.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

I first connected with Keith sometime last spring, when he shot me an email with a promising update on Granite Gorge. The ski area was re-opening, he said, but I’d have to keep it to myself for the time being. Shortly after, the new ownership group officially named him general manager, and by August he was whacking weeds from beneath the Granite Gorge sign on Route 9 and brushing ticks off his legs.

Excited as I was about this news, I generally don’t ask folks to join me on the podcast until they’ve weathered at least one season leading their current resort. It’s impossible to really know the place until you’ve sat teeth-gritted through a brown rain-soaked January and roared in glory at a nor-easter-driven March power-up. It’s just not something you can appreciate through Zuckerberg’s Oculus glasses. You have to be there.

So we waited. In January, the ski area cranked open with its ropetow. The chairlift came online in mid-February. I was there the next day, taking fastlaps off the summit with my six-year-old. I stopped Kreischer for what would become my first #TwoMinuteStorm (basically, very short interviews with ski area managers) video on Instagram (click through to listen):

Kreischer and I talked last summer, so I had a sense of his baseline. This podcast was almost like talking to a different person. It was like he’d spent 10 months cramming for a master’s degree in Granite Gorge. Which I guess he had. But waiting was the right decision. Kreischer is a terrific ski area leader, thoughtful and passionate and enthusiastic and full of positive energy. He’s the kind of guy who only gets more interested in a topic as he immerses himself in it. And after transforming an overgrown backwoods bump into a living business, his raw passion for the job had only amplified and become more focused. Last summer, Granite Gorge was an abstract thing. It was right there, waiting, but you could only really find it in your imagination. Now it’s real. Now, he’s actually done it. Actually re-opened a dead-as-the-dinosaurs ski area. Even if you normally just read this article and skip the podcast, listen to this one. Kreischer is as authentic and sincere as they get.

Why you should ski Granite Gorge

Not to be lazy with it, but I’ve covered this one already:

Of all the ski states in America, I can’t think of a rougher one to make a go as an operator than New Hampshire. There are so many good and large resorts and they are impossibly easy to access, stacked along I-93 like a snowy outlet mall. But here’s little Granite Gorge, opened in 1959 but busted in the ‘70s and re-opened in 2003 and busted again in 2020 and now, improbably, opened again under a group of local business owners who bought it at auction last June. The joint sits in the southwest corner of the state, well off the main ski thoroughfares, which means it will make it as a locals’ bump for Keene or it won’t make it at all. I took my 6-year-old and we rolled 15 runs off the double chair that had re-opened the day before after not running since 2018. It was creaky and cranky and the mid-station was gone but it was running. We skied the same run over and over, a thin and windy green lolling off the summit. Six hundred vertical feet, up and down. Skier traffic was light but the tubing hill was full. It was a holiday weekend and we’d found a hack. No liftlines on a New England Sunday.

Skiing there feels like being part of an excavation, as though they are digging things out of the ground and looking at them and trying to figure out what the ancients of New Hampshire could have been doing with such contraptions. It’s spunky and plucky and a little ramshackle. You drive over a single-vehicle bridge to access a parking lot that’s muddy and ungraded and unmanaged. They removed the chairlift mid-station, but it’s still laying in parts scattered all over the woods. The lodge is squat and half-finished like a field hospital. But a strong spirit of revival is there, and if the owners can have patience enough to give this thing five years and focus on busloads of kids, it has a future.

OK maybe not the best commercial for the place. But here’s what Granite Gorge can give you: a completely uncrowded and inexpensive ski experience in a region that’s getting short on both. Probably not your destination if you and the boys are looking to link Flipdoodle Supremes on monster kickers. Perfect if, like me, you’re a dad who doesn’t want to fight crowds on a holiday weekend. Or if you’re a local looking to crush turns after work. Or if you live nearby and you have an Epic Pass but you just want to support the joint. There are worse places for your money.

Podcast Notes

On the auction timeline

The current owners won Granite Gorge in an auction last June. From the June 6, 2022 Keene Sentinel:

It took nearly 10 minutes of deliberation, two bidders dropping out and a back-and-forth bidding war amounting to $210,000 before a developer secured the rights to the former Granite Gorge Ski Area property along with the intent to reopen it for recreation.

Between breaks of silence, bidders at Friday’s foreclosure auction raised the stakes from an opening bid of $240,000 to a winning bid of $430,000 on site at the property, located along Route 9 in Roxbury. Bryan Granger, the senior vice president of Keene-based wholesale grocery company C&S Wholesale Grocers, clinched the final bid.

Granger represented Granite Gorge Partnership, LLC at the auction, which claims itself to be a local group of Keene investors with a “shared desire of returning winter and summer activities to Granite Gorge in a safe and inclusive manner,” according to a media statement Granger provided to The Sentinel.

The other bidder was a Massachusetts-based contractor named Nick Williamson.

On Granite Gorge’s troubled history

New England Ski History provides a succinct timeline of Granite Gorge’s history (the ski area was originally known as “Pinnacle”). A few highlights:

Following the 1974-75 season, George LaBrecque transferred the ski area to Maurice Stone. One year later, Stone sold the area to Paul and Eleanor Jensen of Connecticut. Dealing with subpar snowfall, no snowmaking, and aging infrastructure, the Jensens only operated the Pinnacle for the 1976-77 season. Following the season, when mortgage payments were missed, Stone foreclosed and took back the property. There would be no more lift-served skiing at Pinnacle for the rest of the twentieth century.

In November 1980, Stone sold the 94-acre Pinnacle property to Juanita Robinson of Kentucky and her three sons, one of whom lived in Massachusetts. Though “big plans” were teased with skiing to return in 1980 or 1981, Pinnacle remained idle.

In December 1985, the Robinsons sold the property to Bald Mountain Park, Inc. The real estate entity held the property for fourteen years.

In September 1999, Baybutt Construction purchased the former ski area and commenced studies for a potential reopening. …

After a quarter of a century of idleness, the Pinnacle became a work site in the spring of 2002 when a new bridge was built from Route 9 to the base area.

The Pinnacle reopened in early 2003 under the name of Granite Gorge. … The tiny startup on the Bunny Buster slope featured a rope tow and snowmaking. …

After multiple years of planning and decades after the first proposal, Granite Gorge saw a significant expansion in 2005 with the addition of a double chairlift to Spruce Peak.

Snowmaking and night skiing were expanded for 2006-07, which also featured a new base yurt. Snowmaking was expanded to the top of the chairlift for the 2008-2009 season, while night skiing followed up the mountain for the 2009-2010 season.

In 2010 Granite Gorge was approved for a 300-person lodge, to be built in phases. Portions were completed in 2011 and 2012.

In late 2012, parent company Baybutt Construction was dealing with escalating financial problems. One of Baybutt's lenders, Interstate Electrical Services Corp., arranged for a foreclosure auction of some of Baybutt's properties, including Granite Gorge ski area, for February 1, 2013. The auction was cancelled at the last minute and the ski area remained open. That month, Baybutt Construction Corp. filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy.

Granite Gorge continued to operate and grow in subsequent years, including adding to its off season offerings and events. …

Granite Gorge scaled back operations for the 2018-19 season, as it ceased operating the chairlift and instead focused on snow tubing and skiing on the Bunny Buster trail. After nearly being auctioned off in the summer of 2019, the ski area continued to operate its surface lifts during the winter of 2019-20.

On August 3, 2020, Fred Baybutt died of a sudden heart event at the age of 60. Following his death, Granite Gorge sat idle.

On Tanglwood, PA

Kreischer recalls early snowboard adventures at Tanglwood, one of dozens of abandoned ski areas in Pennsylvania’s Poconos. DCSki lists modest stats for the joint: 415 vertical feet on 35 acres served by two double chairs and a ropetow. The place closed around 2010 and liquidated its lifts in 2012. Here’s a circa 2008 trailmap:

I spent a few hours hiking the place back in 2021. Here’s what I wrote at the time:

Another 40 minutes up wild Pennsylvania highway is Tanglwood, 415 vertical feet shuttered since 2010. The mountain once had two doubles and two T-bars and a ropetow but now it has nothing, the place stripped as though looted by a ski grinch stuffing the chairs and tower guns into his wicked sleigh. Concrete lift towers anchored into the forest and the trails themselves are all that remain. The place is filled with deer. Like all the ski areas I visited that day it is lined with houses. It is late in the day and the American mole people are emerging to stand on their decks and tend to their plants and I wonder what it would be like to live on a ski area and then not live on a ski area because the ski area is gone and now you just live on a mountain where it hardly ever snows and you can hardly ever ski. I think I would be pissed.

On Maple Valley, Vermont

Kreischer also considered resurrecting Maple Valley, a thousand-footer in Southern Vermont. It had a nice little spread:

The place opened in 1963 and made it, haltingly, to the end of the century under a series of owners. The culprit was likely a very tough neighborhood – Southern Vermont skiers have their choice of Stratton, Mount Snow, Bromley, or Magic. Maple Valley was just a little too close and a little too small to compete:

I also included Granite Gorge on the map, so you can see how close the place is. I wouldn’t have bet on Granite to re-open before Maple if pure ski terrain were the only factor to consider. But a fellow named Nicholas Mercede tried twice to open the ski area, according to New England Ski History. NIMBYs beat him back, and he died in 2018 at age 90.

The lifts – a pair of 1960s Hall doubles – are, I believe, still standing. An outfit called “Sugar Mountain Holdings” has owned the ski area since 2018, and “a long-term vision was announced for possibly reopening the ski area,” according to New England Ski History.

On Ski Resort Tycoon, the videogame

Kreischer’s first run at ski resort management came via Ski Resort Tycoon, a 2000 sim game that you can still purchase on Amazon for $5.95. According to Wikipedia, “A Yeti can also be seen in the game, and it can be found eating the guests.” My God, can you imagine the insurance bill?

On the density of New England ski areas

New England is one of the most competitive ski markets on the planet. It’s certainly one of the densest, with 100 ski areas stuffed into 71,988 square miles – that’s an area small than any major western ski state. The six New England states are small (Maine occupies nearly half of the total square mileage), so they share the glory, but their size masks just how tightly they are clustered. Check this stat: the number of ski areas per square mile across the six New England states is more than four times that of Colorado and six times that of Utah:

Of course, New England ski areas tend to measure far smaller than those of the West. But the point of this exercise is to underscore the sheer volume of choices available to the New England skier. Here’s what Granite Gorge is competing against as it works to establish itself as a viable business:

That means the ski area is fighting against heavies like Mount Snow, Okemo, Stratton, and Mount Sunapee for its local Keene market – and the Keene market is essentially Granite Gorge’s only market. There’s probably a place for this little knuckler to act as a new-skier assembly line and weekend hideout for families and teenage Park Bros, but there’s probably not a tougher place in America to pull this off than southwest New Hampshire.

On Granite Gorge’s mountain bike park and better glade skiing

Kreischer believes that Granite Gorge cannot survive as a winter-only business. Earlier this spring, he announced the construction of a downhill mountain bike park. You can track their progress via Instagram:

As regular readers know, I don’t cover MTB, but we discuss these new trails in the context of their potential to enhance the ski area’s glade network. Very little of Granite Gorge’s face has been cut with trails. The potential for glade development is huge, and this initial poke into the forest is an excellent start.

On Highland bike park

Kreischer and I briefly discuss Highland Bike Park in New Hampshire. This is the only lift-served MTB park in New England that doesn’t also double as a ski area. It was, in fact, once a 700-vertical-foot ski area. Here’s a circa 1987 trailmap:

Highland closed for skiing in 1995, and re-opened as a mountain bike park at some point over the next dozen years. Bike people tell me that the place is one of the best-regarded MTB facilities in New England. Here’s the current bike trailmap:

There are no current plans to re-open the area for skiing. “While there have been rumors that limited ski operations could resume in the future, the park remains biking-only at this point,” according to New England Ski History.

Highland is in a tough spot for skiing, lodged between Ragged and Gunstock, which both have high-speed lifts and far more vertical. Highland sits just over two miles off Interstate 93, however, and there could be room in the market for a terrain-park only mountain à la Woodward Park City. Loon is the current terrain park king of New Hampshire, but it’s crowded and expensive. Imagine a parks paradise with $50 day tickets and $300 season passes. That could work.

On the alarm beeping in the background

You may notice an alarm beeping in the background during the latter half of the podcast. I thought this was on my end, and I planned to simply edit the noise out, since I’m listening most of the time. After the podcast, I came up the stairs toting a ladder, prepared to dismantle the fire alarm. My wife looked at me, baffled. “What beeping?” she asked. Well, it was on Keith’s end. Hopefully he wasn’t so devoted to the podcast that he let his house burn down while recording it. Though I doubt that. Maybe he is Batman and that was his Batman alarm alerting him to nearby crimes. Though frankly I’m not sure a superhero could have revived Granite Gorge in six months. So it was probably just his You’re Awesome alarm going off. All part of the story here.

On an assist from Pats Peak

Keith followed up via email after our call to throw some credit to his contemporary at Pats Peak:

“I was reflecting on our conversation last night and one huge thing I forgot to mention was Kris Blomback and the help from Pat's Peak. They were instrumental in giving us a patrol sled and some awesome rental equipment that was a big deal getting us going this season. Kris is an amazing guy and a great leader. When I listened to his podcast episode with you, his words of advice to me was virtually verbatim, which really showcases his honesty, class, and true passion for bolstering skiing in this region. I really want to thank Kris and the rest of the Pats team for their help and assistance bringing us back to being a feeder for the entire Southern NH region.”

On New Hampshire skiing

I am an enormous, unapologetic fan of New Hampshire skiing. The mountains are many and varied, each one distinct. I’ve hosted a number of New Hampshire resort leaders on the podcast, and I have conversations scheduled with Cranmore GM Ben Wilcox and Attitash GM Brandon Swartz later this year. I also recorded an episode with Dartmouth Skiway GM Mark Adamczyk earlier this week – you’ll have that one soon. Here’s what’s in the catalog right now:

* Loon Mountain GM Brian Norton – Nov. 14, 2022

* Pats Peak GM Kris Blomback – Sept. 22, 2022

* Ragged Mountain GM Erik Barnes – April 29, 2022

* Whaleback Executive Director Jon Hunt – June 17, 2021

* Waterville Valley President and GM Tim Smith – Feb. 23, 2021

* Gunstock President and GM Tom Day – Jan. 13, 2021

* Cannon Mountain GM John DeVivo – Oct. 12, 2020

* Loon Mountain President and GM Jay Scambio – Feb. 7, 2020

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing in North America year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 51/100 in 2023, and number 437 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

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Who

Ellen Galbraith, Vice President and General Manager of Stevens Pass, Washington

Recorded on

June 5, 2023

About Stevens Pass

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Vail Resorts

Located in: Skykomish, Washington

Year founded: 1937

Pass affiliations:

* Unlimited access on Epic Pass, Epic Local Pass, Stevens Pass Premium Pass

* Stevens Pass Select Pass: blacked out during the day on all holidays plus weekends from Dec. 16 to March 10; night skiing allowed on all days

* 1- to 7-day access on Epic Day Pass – All Resorts and 32 Resorts versions

Closest neighboring ski areas: Leavenworth Ski Hill (40 minutes), Badger Mountain (1 hour, 28 minutes), Mission Ridge (1 hour, 29 minutes), Echo Valley (1 hour, 58 minutes), Summit at Snoqualmie (2 hours, 4 minutes), Loup Loup (2 hours, 49 minutes) - travel times vary considerably given weather conditions, time of day, and time of year

Base elevation: 3,821 feet at Mill Valley; 4,061 feet at main base

Summit elevation: 5,600 feet at top of Big Chief Mountain, 5,845 feet at top of Cowboy Mountain

Vertical drop: 1,779 from top of Big Chief to bottom of Mill Valley, 1,784 from top of Cowboy to main base

Skiable Acres: 1,125

Average annual snowfall: 460 inches

Trail count: 57

Lift count: 11 (4 high-speed quads, 2 fixed-grip quads, 2 triples [Southern Cross and Double Diamond are one long up-and-over lift], 1 double, 2 carpets – this is the anticipated lift fleet for 2023-24, which includes the upgrade of Kehr’s from a Riblet double to a fixed-grip quad) – view Lift Blog’s inventory of Stevens Pass’ lift fleet.

Why I interviewed her

There is a version of reality in which Washington is a sort of Tahoe North, its snow-bombed ski centers defined by condos bunched mountainside and mixed-use base villages Lego-bricked together for the weekender and spring-breaker. In which the state competes with Colorado or Utah or Montana or Wyoming for conventions and competitions and ski clubs by the planeload. In which Washington skiing matters to anyone other than Washington skiers.

But this is not the reality we live in. Because despite several defining factors shared by other great ski regions – plentiful snowfall, proximity to a large airport, locations along major highways, plentiful natural snow, large vertical drops – the state’s ski areas are, for the most part, day-drivers. There is little slopeside lodging, nothing approximating a pedestrian base village. Just scattered cabins, ubiquitous RV lots, hotels 40 miles from the lifts.

Which, when Washington was a scenic American backwater, was fine. But Seattle is the fastest-growing big city in America. And those new arrivals have money to spend: per-capita personal income in the region has more than doubled in the past 20 years, from $39,965 annually in 2003 to $89,274 today, a rate that has significantly outpaced inflation. Thank Amazon or Microsoft or Starbucks or Boeing. But whatever’s driving this general affluence, the region’s ski infrastructure has simultaneously benefitted from it and failed to keep up.

There are good reasons that Vail (Stevens Pass) and Alterra (Crystal) and Boyne (Summit at Snoqualmie) all own ski areas within Seattle’s orbit – it’s a rabid and monied market, and one with a reliable enough snowtrain that Stevens Pass owns exactly two snowguns. Snoqualmie doesn’t have any (well, a few for their tubing park). All of these companies know how to build resorts. But they can’t do it in Washington. Hemmed in by national parks or NIMBYs or terrain too severe for building, they are stuck with powder-day and weekend parades of SUVs dozens of miles long.

Which takes us to the purpose of this podcast. What is the future of Washington skiing? That it should continue unchanged seems an insane proposition. But absent large-scale infrastructure investment, the state’s Seattle-adjacent ski areas have had to get creative to manage crowds. Crystal’s season pass price nearly tripled in just two years. Summit at Snoqualmie is trying to build its way out with ever-more, ever-more-high-capacity lifts. And Stevens Pass follows the mothership’s policy of limiting day tickets even as access remains unlimited on a variety of highly affordable Epic Passes.

Washington will likely never be an epicenter of destination ski resorts like the Wasatch or Summit County or Tahoe. But it does need to evolve into something other than what it is right now: a big-mountain, high-traffic region that is trying to pretend like it’s Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, isolated and depopulated and wild. Stevens Pass will be an important character in this drama, creating one version of what it means to be a busy Pacific Northwest Ski area in the so-far eruptive 2020s. Hang on.

What we talked about

Stevens Pass’ relationship to Whistler; whether the ski area has jumped regional destination status; the ski area’s lower-than-average snowfall this past season; the often treacherous but indispensable US-2; earning back trust after you lose it; working the 2002 Olympics; Beaver Creek and the art and importance of grooming; why Galbraith volunteered to work at Stevens Pass when everything started to go sideways during the 2021-22 ski season; the moment the ski area turned around; rethinking parking; employee housing; lodging; RV life; the Kehr’s chairlift upgrade; why Stevens Pass is upgrading Kehr’s before the even older Seventh Heaven lift; thoughts on replacing Seventh Heaven; the unique up-and-over Double Diamond/Southern Cross lift and whether a future version would still combine the two lifts or upgrade to a detach; potential expansions and lift additions; the masterplan; Stevens Pass snowmaking “system”; the night-skiing footprint; why Stevens Pass still has its own Epic Pass and why the mountain remains unlimited on the Epic Local Pass; comparing Crystal and Stevens’ varying responses to Washington’s population explosion; and limiting lift ticket sales.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

At some point, we’ll be able to stop discussing the disastrous start to Stevens Pass’ 2021-22 ski season. But, to both set context around Galbraith’s arrival and to distance her from the genesis of the issues, I’ll reset it one more time. Gregory Scruggs, writing in The Seattle Times last year:

After a delayed start to the season, snow hammered the Cascades during the [2021]holiday week. Severely understaffed, Stevens Pass struggled to open most of its chairlifts for six weeks, including those serving the popular backside terrain.

Vail Resorts, which bought Stevens Pass in 2018, had sold a record number of its season pass product, the Epic Pass, in the run-up to the 2021-22 winter, leaving thousands of Washington residents claiming that they had prepaid for a product they couldn’t use. A Change.org petition titled “Hold Vail Resorts Accountable” generated over 45,000 signatures. Over 400 state residents filed complaints against Vail Resorts with the state Attorney General’s office. In early January, VailDaily reported that Vail’s stock price was underperforming by 25%, with analysts attributing the drop in part to an avalanche of consumer ire about mismanagement at resorts across the country, including Stevens Pass.

On Jan. 12, Vail Resorts fired then-general manager Tom Pettigrew and announced that [Tom] Fortune would temporarily relocate from his role as general manager at Heavenly Ski Resort in South Lake Tahoe, California, to right the ship at Stevens Pass.

Fortune, the current head of Heavenly and Vail’s Tahoe Region, had grown up at the ski area, and Stevens’ resurrection constituted a deeply personal mission. He laid out the whole experience when he joined The Storm Skiing Podcast back in April. But after jump-starting the machine, he had to get back to Tahoe. Enter Galbraith, who had worked her way up through the Vail ranks and earned her first shot as a mountain general manager last June. Scruggs wrote a follow-up article this past January, to check in on Stevens and assess her first half-year as resort lead:

Galbraith, 42, was brought in to help right the ship last season under interim general manager Tom Fortune as Stevens Pass struggled to operate at full capacity, with staff shortages leading to long lines, closed terrain and irate season pass holders. In May, Galbraith became general manager, and by all accounts the guest experience has improved dramatically since its nadir one year ago. For longtime Stevens Pass regulars, their home mountain feels back to normal, with all 10 chairlifts spinning and ski runs open every day, conditions permitting, and lodges fully open for business. And more promised capital upgrades from deep-pocketed Vail are on the way.

“Those memories from last year are still very front of mind,” said Galbraith, from her office overlooking the mountain, where a David Horsey cartoon featuring the abominable snowman lampooning the Stevens Pass debacle is tacked above her desk next to a quote from Gen. George S. Patton. …

While customers signed a Change.org petition to hold Vail Resorts accountable last winter and filed consumer complaints with the state attorney general, Stevens Pass is generally earning higher marks under Galbraith’s tenure.

“After last year’s D-plus effort, I give this year a solid B-plus,” said Will Roberts, of Edmonds, via email. “My family is having fun and we are happy to come to Stevens Pass.”

So, with a season behind her, how was it going? While the Epic and Ikon passes have somewhat scrambled the traditional who-gets-attention calculus, skiers outside of the Pacific Northwest rarely hear about the region’s ski areas unless things get terrible. A heat wave ends Timberline’s famous summer season three weeks early. The unlimited-Ikon-Base-Pass-inspired Crystal Mountain meltdown of 2020. Stevens Pass goes sideways. When the national ski media ignores the PNW, that typically means everything’s going OK.

And we didn’t hear much about Stevens this year, did we? Lift aficionados are aware of the Kehr’s chairlift upgrade. Powderchasers know the ski area came in significantly under its annual snowfall average despite bomber conditions throughout the West. Locals know that the ski area lost several days to road shutdowns on notoriously dicey US 2. But the rest of us mostly forgot about the joint, and for Vail Resorts, that was probably the best possible outcome.

Questions I wish I’d asked

If I’d had more time, or if this interview had been 10 years earlier, or if the mountain hadn’t been shuffled among owners in the interim, we surely would have discussed the 2012 Tunnel Creek avalanche. The incident killed three skiers in the popular backcountry area adjacent to Stevens Pass. This Pulitzer Prize-winning New York Times feature story by John Branch offers a definitive account of what happened that day. It is a long but essential read, and basically scared me away from the backcountry forever.

Why you should ski Stevens Pass

Usually Facebook is a wasteland overrun by morons who either lack brains, lack empathy, or both. As though someone had flushed the contents of the DSM-5 into the digital netherworld. But once in a while, a flash of brilliance. I observed such an exchange around the time Vail Resorts purchased Stevens Pass in 2018. I can’t find the original conversation, so I’ll paraphrase:

PERSON 1: This is terrible, I don’t want a bunch of Vail skiers overrunning my ski area.

PERSON 2: You have nothing to worry about. No one is coming from Colorado to ski Stevens Pass. Vail is buying it so that Stevens regulars will go to Park City/Vail/Breckenridge/Whistler on vacation.

Person two was right, of course, to an extent. Sure, Colorado or Utah skiers are generally happy reminding everyone that they live in Colorado or Utah. But to an Epic Pass holder living in, say, Pennsylvania or Michigan or New York or Wisconsin, an 1,800-foot, 1,100-acre ski area that averages 460 inches of snow annually sounds like a rowdy good time worth traveling for. Particularly since that ski area is pretty easy to reach via Seattle.

I asked Galbraith whether, under the Epic Pass, Stevens had begun to attract more destination guests. She said that it had. It is likely a modest increase, and Stevens Pass will never offer the slopeside condos and snow quality of Utah or Colorado. But it is a revered ski center in a gorgeous natural setting with fierce skiing and a well-defined locals’ culture. In our checklist era that the Epic Pass has enabled and defined, Stevens Pass is one mountain that every skier ought to hit eventually.

Podcast Notes

On Washington’s ski area landscape

Washington has just 16 ski areas and nearly 8 million residents. That gives the state one of the lowest numbers of ski areas, by geographic or population size, of any major ski state:

While some of the state’s ski areas are quite large, only 11 have chairlifts:

We have a better chance of seeing Loup Loup on the Epic Pass than we do of ever building another ski area in Washington State. So this is what we have to work with.

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Who: Steve Wright, President and General Manager of Jay Peak, Vermont

Recorded on: October 19, 2020

Why I interviewed him: Because there it sits, towering off the top of America, an unlikely snow trap that is the spiritual center of Northeast skiing. It is the best ski area in the best ski state in New England. Rippling with glades, pounded with more snow than any ski area east of the Rockies, cold enough to keep that powder crisp for days after it falls, Jay Peak offers your best chance at your best day of skiing on any given day of the season. For skiers funneling north on I-91 from the East Coast megalopolis, the mountain can seem rooted to a horizon too distant to bother with. But that remoteness only adds to the mystique, and those who do bother find something special, exotic almost, a place 10 miles from the international frontier, with a bordertown’s energy and a mixing pot’s cosmopolitan sheen. The skiing can feel foreign too, more big-trees-and-deep-turns West than baked-concrete East. The whole thing adds up to a kind of zen experience for skiers who hit it right, when the storms are pounding through and the temps stay low and you’re locked up there at the snowy top of the country, the whole of Northeast skiing outside of your little zone suddenly feeling far off and irrelevant.

The Jay Peak Tram. Photo courtesy of Indy Pass.

What we talked about: Why Jay joined the Indy Pass; why the partnership may benefit other Northeastern mountains as much as, if not more than, Jay; how long the initial Indy Pass partnership deal is set for; season passholder benefits, from the Indy Pass buy-up to free Saddleback days; whether Jay passholders could see more reciprocal partnerships in the future; why the Jay-Burke pass has persisted even after common ownership dissolved; will Steve Wright help convince Burke to join the Indy Pass?; season pass guarantees – where Jay sits and why they decided to move ahead of so many other ski areas; why Jay refunded all passes purchased by Canadian skiers; don’t expect the U.S.-Canada border to crack open anytime soon; what you lose when you lose Canada; how pass sales are faring in the age of Covid; the 10 Years of Jay contest; Jay’s upside-down season – trying to attract more skiers while everyone else in Vermont is trying to thin their skier numbers; if you think Vermont ski areas aren’t going to monitor quarantine requirements, listen to what Wright has to say about it; what operations will look like at Jay this winter; Wright’s side hustle as a slopeside pizza chef; the squad of roving wellness ambassadors you may encounter at Jay this winter; the operating plan for the tram, and yes there are some surprises; whether skiers will be able to hike to the summit from the top of the Flyer Express Quad; told for the first time: the story behind Jay’s March shutdown; how Jay Nation reacted to the mountain’s decision to close, which came before that of any other large mountain in the Northeast; why Jay went full shutdown, rather than framing the closure as a “pause in operations,” as so many other ski areas did; how challenging it was to shut down the enthusiastic uphillers that just kept coming; the group of international employees who were stuck at Jay post-shutdown and how the mountain ultimately helped get them home; the day a motorcade of black Escalades pulled into the parking lot and how it was different from the motorcades of black Escalades that had been regulars at the mountain during the Quiros era; what happens when you suddenly find yourself in charge of Jay Peak; whether the court-appointed receiver ever considered shutting down the mountain; the challenges of operating without a permanent owner; the explosive growth at the base of Jay over the past 10 to 15 years and whether that was the right direction for the mountain; the state of Jay Peak’s sale; why Jay Peak will not be bulldozed into a giant parking lot; why the mountain is discussing its valuation with the town of Jay; Wright’s upgrade wish list, including chairlift improvements; whether the mountain would ever consider replacing the tram or planting a redundant lift to the top; and whether the West Bowl expansion could ever happen.

Crushing some Jay Peak pow. Photo courtesy of Indy Pass.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview: Because go check indyskipass.com, where you’ll see Jay Peak is now the headliner of the already strong Eastern lineup. Why Jay joined the Indy and why it chose to do so this close to the season was a story I thought we all needed to hear. I also just wanted an update on the giant bucket of b******t Jay had been wading through for the past several years, including but not limited to the EB-5 scandal that put the mountain under the oversight of a court-appointed receiver, the ongoing quest to find a buyer, the mountain’s decision to challenge its assessment with the town of Jay, why Jay was one of the first large ski areas in the country to shut down in the spring to help stop the spread of Covid-19, how it’s planning to handle operations in the coming socially distant season, and what the ongoing closure of the Canadian border means for the ski area. I also just wanted to get a sense of Jay’s long-term ambitions for lift and snowmaking upgrades, as well as a possible West Bowl expansion.

Why you should go there: Because if you haven’t been and you haven’t been on a good day, then you probably don’t know how good skiing in the Northeast can be. And while the rest of Northern Vermont doesn’t sit too far behind Jay in its annual snow totals, none of them has the sheer breadth of its glade network. Jay has always been known for and defined by its tree skiing, long before other mountains began thinning trees between groomers and dropping them onto the trailmap in earnest. A good glade network is useless without plenty of snow, of course, and Jay has more powder more often than anyone else. Outside of the outstanding skiing, however, this socially distant, limited-capacity year is probably the best one you’ll ever find to visit Jay Peak. The Canadian border remains closed to non-essential travel, cutting off half the ski area’s business. Vermont quarantine restrictions will further limit traffic. If you’re not in any of the restricted zones and can make it to Jay in the winter of 2020-21, you may feel pretty lonely up there, nothing but you and your skis crushing 2,000-foot pow laps from open to close. Go get it.

Buy that pass at Jay: Wright clarified to me after the interview that the two free Saddleback days that come with the Jay Peak season pass are only included with Jay-Burke combo passes that are purchased through Jay Peak. If you buy through Burke, you won’t get the Saddleback days, since Burke has no agreement with that mountain.

Additional reading/videos:

* Why, look at this, it’s a Q&A with Steve in Powder by none other than Mountain Gazette owner and editor and Storm Skiing Podcast sponsor Mike Rogge.

* Vermont Digger has been a great source for coverage of the EB-5 scandal.

* The first part of a three-part interview with Wright by Propeller Media Works. Find the other two parts here.

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Who

Tim Cohee, President and General Manager of China Peak, California and President of California Mountain Resort Company

Recorded on

June 19, 2023

About China Peak

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: California Mountain Resort Company

Located in: Lakeshore, California

Year founded: 1958

Pass affiliations:

* Cali Pass – Unlimited access

* Indy Base Pass – 2 days, potential blackouts TBD

* Indy+ Pass – 2 days, no blackouts

* Powder Alliance – 2 days, potential blackouts TBD

Reciprocal partners: None (Cali Pass includes Powder Alliance + unlimited access to Mountain High and Dodge Ridge)

Closest neighboring ski areas: Badger Pass (2 hours, 45 minutes), Dodge Ridge (4 hours, 1 minute)

Base elevation: 7,030 feet

Summit elevation: 8,709 feet

Vertical drop: 1,679 feet

Skiable Acres: 1,200

Average annual snowfall: 300 inches

Trail count: 54

Lift count: 11 lifts (2 quads, 4 triples, 1 T-bar, 4 carpets) - Total includes Chair 6 upgrade from a double to a fixed-grip quad this summer; China Peak also plans to replace the Firebowl T-bar with a used quad from Taos in 2024 - view Lift Blog’s inventory of China Peak’s lift fleet

Why I interviewed him

The Storm Skiing Podcast is not yet four years old, but it is established enough to have hosted several repeat guests: Indy Pass founder Doug Fish (four appearances), Boyne Resorts CEO Stephen Kircher (three), Alterra chair Rusty Gregory (three), and snowsports columnist Shaun Sutner (two, with a third scheduled for November). Magic Mountain, Vermont President Geoff Hatheway and Berkshire East/Catamount owner Jon Schaefer have also appeared twice.

What makes a good repeat guest? Many things. Fish, Kircher, and Gregory oversee rapidly changing and expansive portfolios whose evolutions shape the lift-served ski landscape as a whole. Hatheway and Schaefer guide small operations, but they are among the most original thinkers in skiing. Sutner brings deep experience and perspective to the layered New England ski scene.

Tim Cohee fits into the Hatheway/Schaefer camp. Anyone who listened to my first podcast interview with him, in 2021, knows this. He brings a West Coast moxie and brashness to the rough-and-ruthless Sierras, tempered by the humbling realities of operating mountains in the fickle range over four-plus decades.

The Storm, in general, is more interested in place over person. I don’t seek out whacky characters or eccentrics. They may be captivating in an oddball way, but I need to find the individuals who actually make things happen, who, through will or persistence or luck or planning help shape our collective lift-served ski experience.

Sometimes, however, you get both charisma and decision-making. Would I be running my second podcast focused on a mid-sized California ski area if it were owned and operated by someone else? Maybe. But probably not. At least not so soon. This is a hyper-regional mountain, isolated and hard to reach for anyone who doesn’t live in or near Fresno. It’s 65 miles and an hour and a half off the expressway – time that most SoCal drivers are going to use to keep moving north to Mammoth or Tahoe.

But here we are, back in the parking lot at the end of highway 168, for the second time in two years. You’ll understand why once you click “play.”    

What we talked about

China Peak’s record-smashing snowfall this past season; when big snow equals big problems; how running Kirkwood prepared Cohee for a huge 2022-23 at China Peak; weathering nine droughts in 11 seasons; selling the ski area to California Mountain Resorts Company; Karl Kapuscinski, “mountain guy”; the Cali Pass; “I wish I was partners with Karl 10 years ago”; doing your best work in your ‘60s; “there’s no better investment company in the country in the ski business than Invision Capital”; the long-term potential for California Mountain Resort Company (CMRC) to by more ski areas; potential for Powder Alliance to morph into a revenue-generating pass; Doug Fish and the Indy Pass; whether Powder Alliance could expand outside of the West in North America; how Epic and Ikon have lifted small ski areas; how China Peak works together with Dodge Ridge and Mountain High as a collective; how Covid supercharged China Peak’s business; why Ross Blackburn bailed out China Peak; the “smartest guy ever in the American ski industry”; why China Peak finally invested in a real snowmaking system and what happened when it did; this summer’s Canyon lift upgrade; where a detachable lift could fit at China Peak and what sort of lift that could be; “Karl and I are passionate about mirroring as much of what the big resorts do as we can”; a Firebowl lift upgrade; another lift upgrade for Dodge Ridge; thinking through Lift 1 upgrades; why China Peak removed the Dynamite/old Buckhorn lift; why the mountain changed the name of the Exhibition lift to “Buckhorn”; “China Peak would probably be the fifth or sixth best ski area in Lake Tahoe if it was up there”; reaching for 200,000 skier visits; the problem with an East Bowl lift; why China Peak terrain expansion is unlikely; “you can put 5,500 people at China Peak and it will gobble them up”; the ski area that CMRC is trying to buy next; and why Cohee changed the name back to “China Peak” in 2010.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

China Peak is making all kinds of moves lately:

* After staggering along on a primitive snowmaking system for decades, China Peak finally installed a modern network in 2021. Following nine droughts in 11 seasons, this seemed like the only route to survival. Only, it hasn’t stopped snowing since. China Peak obliterated its all-time snowfall record during the 2022-23 ski season, piling up 701 inches from November to May.

* In December, Cohee sold China Peak to Invision Capital and Karl Kapuscinski, an enterprise that has now reformulated as “California Mountain Resort Company” (CMRC). It was an unexpected move that continued the rollup of North America’s ski industry into conglomerates large and small, lumping China Peak in with new sister resorts Mountain High and Dodge Ridge.

* In February, CMRC introduced the “Cali Pass” for the 2023-24 ski season. Renewing passholders could lock in unlimited access to Mountain High, Dodge Ridge, and China Peak for $599 ($649 for new customers). The pass, which currently runs $699, also includes Powder Alliance benefits: three days each at 19 other ski areas, including Sierra-at-Tahoe. All three ski areas continue to sell single-mountain passes, which debuted at $499/$449 renewal at China Peak (now $549), and $549/$499 renewal at Mountain High and Dodge Ridge (now $599). The Cali Pass is one of a growing number of regional ski passes that deliver multi-mountain access outside of the Epkon ecosystem.

* One of the 62 lift installations rising across North America this summer is at China Peak, where Jackson Hole’s old Thunder fixed-grip quad is replacing a Riblet double on the Canyon line. Cohee discusses a second lift upgrade for next summer, for the long-defunct Firebowl T-bar.

* China Peak still relies entirely on a fixed-grip lift fleet. This could change as CMRC looks to retool its portfolio for skiing’s high-speed age. That could mean big changes for Lift 1, Summit, which is currently a fixed-grip triple. Cohee thinks an upgrade to a high-speed six on that line could be among the most consequential lift replacements in the history of California skiing.

What I got wrong

I didn’t get this wrong, necessarily, but I wanted to make a note about Ski Cooper and the Powder Alliance. Cohee and I spoke on June 19 – Ski Cooper announced that it had joined the Powder Alliance on June 30. Otherwise, I certainly would have asked him about it during our Powder Alliance discussion.

Cohee and I talked through the coming lift upgrade at Dodge Ridge on the fly. We settled on a likely upgrade to Lift 5, but the resort is in fact upgrading Lift 6, from a Riblet double to a quad, for the 2024-25 ski season:

Why you should ski China Peak

It’s hard to contemplate how a ski area can be both at the ass-end of the road and in the most populous state in the nation. But that’s China Peak: an hour and a half dead east of Fresno, at the terminus of a road that just can’t quite contemplate going any deeper into the mountains. Mammoth, 28 miles away as the bird flies, is a six-and-a-half-hour drive.

You should go anyway. “We don’t even have a line on a triple chair,” Cohee tells me of China Peak’s Summit Lift, the mountain’s only top-to-bottom chair. “There’s no way you can stand in line 10 minutes. It’s not possible. Most of the time it’s two or three minutes on a fixed triple chair.” So, no one’s there, and you get a big mountain. Cohee explains: “People that have come there, that have never been there, are like, ‘how can there be a 1,700-vertical-foot mountain, fall-line skiing, steeps, long runs, fall-line runs, fantastic grooming, and all the frills, and I’ve never heard of it?’ And I said, ‘because it’s not in your market.’”

Find me something more appealing than a 1,700-vertical-foot mountain with no liftlines. Sure, you’re riding a fixed-grip lift to the top, but I’ll take no line on a slow lift over a long line on a fast lift any day. And once they drop that sixer in there? Dang.

Podcast Notes

On Karl Kapuscinski and California Mountain Resorts Company

Cohee and I talk extensively about Karl Kapuscinski, the CEO of CMRC and longtime owner of Mountain High. Kapuscinski joined me on the podcast last June (prior to the China Peak purchase), and we went deep on long-term plans at Mountain High and Dodge Ridge.

On putting a lift on hike-to terrain in Telluride and Taos

Cohee referenced the contentious history of stringing chairlifts into what had traditionally been hike-to terrain. His examples were Taos and Telluride. Taos ran a 1,095-vertical-foot triple chair up Kachina Peak in 2014, delivering easy mass access to what had been revered hike-to terrain since the resort’s earliest days. Note the lift-less Kachina Peak far looker’s left on this 2012 trailmap:

And here’s Taos today (the mountain is replacing Lift 4, a fixed-grip quad, with a high-speed detach quad this summer - that lift is being split between China Peak and Dodge Ridge for the 2024 upgrade noted above; Taos will also upgrade Pioneer from a used Yan triple to a new Leitner-Poma triple this summer):

The Telluride access issue was more complex, and was only tangentially related to the Revelation lift, which the resort installed on the backside in 2008. That lift made it slightly easier to access the Bear Creek terrain, which Powder characterized in 2014 as “a sprawling, steep, chute-choked drainage” and “some of the best lift-accessed backcountry in the country.” More:

In 2000, skiers convinced the Forest Service to put in access points on Palmyra Peak at the top of the Gold Hill Chutes. The backcountry gates were also part of a terrain expansion in the resort. Local skiers thought the problem was solved, but the debate didn’t end there. Ten years later, in December 2010, they closed the gates again due to complaints from a Bear Creek landowner. There are private inholdings in the Forest Service land in the canyon, and those landowners didn’t want skiers cutting through their property.

Read the rest to see how the problem sorted out. And here’s the Telluride trailmap for reference:

On Janek Kunczynski

Cohee referenced a conversation he’d had with “Yan Kunczynski,” saying that, “obviously he had his issues.” If it’s not obvious to the listener, here’s what he was talking about: Kuncyznski founded Yan chairlifts in 1965. They were sound lifts, and the company built hundreds, many of which are still in operation today. However. Yan’s high-speed lifts turned out to be death traps. Two people died in a 1985 accident at Keystone. A 9-year-old died in a 1993 accident at Sierra-at-Tahoe (then known as Sierra Ski Ranch). Two more died at Whistler in 1995. This is why all three detachable quads at Sierra-at-Tahoe date to 1996 – the mountain ripped out all three Yan machines following the accident, even though the oldest dated only to 1989.

Several Yan high-speed detachables still run, but they have been heavily modified and retrofit. Superstar Express at Killington, for example, was “retrofitted with new Poma grips and sheaves as well as terminal modifications in 1994,” according to Lift Blog. In total, 15 ski areas, including Sun Valley, Schweitzer, Mount Snow, Mammoth, and Palisades Tahoe spent millions upgrading or replacing Yan detachable quads. The company ceased operations in 2001.

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Who

Mark Adamczyk, General Manager of Dartmouth Skiway, New Hampshire

Recorded on

June 12, 2023

About Dartmouth Skiway

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Dartmouth College

Located in: Lyme Center, New Hampshire

Year founded: 1956

Pass affiliations:

* No Boundaries Pass: between 1 and 3 days, depending upon when the pass is redeemed

* Indy Pass Allied Resorts: Indy Pass holders get 50 percent off weekday lift tickets and 25 percent off weekends and holidays

Reciprocal partners: None

Closest neighboring ski areas: Storrs Hill (33 minutes), Whaleback (36 minutes), Northeast Slopes (36 minutes), Harrington Hill (41 minutes), Quechee (42 minutes), Ragged (48 minutes), Tenney (53 minutes), Saskadena Six (54 minutes), Ascutney (55 minutes), Arrowhead (59 minutes), Mount Sunapee (59 minutes), Veterans Memorial (1 hours, 6 minutes), Campton (1 hour, 6 minutes), Kanc (1 hour, 10 minutes), Loon (1 hour, 11 minutes), Waterville Valley (1 hour, 17 minutes), Cannon (1 hour, 17 minutes), Killington (1 hour, 20 minutes), Pico (1 hour, 21 minutes), Okemo (1 hour, 22 minutes)

Base elevation: 968 feet

Summit elevation: 1,943 feet

Vertical drop: 968 feet

Skiable Acres: 104

Average annual snowfall: 100 inches

Trail count: 28 (25% advanced/expert, 50% intermediate, 25% beginner)

Lift count: 4 (1 fixed-grip quad, 1 double, 2 carpets – view Lift Blog’s inventory of Dartmouth Skiway’s lift fleet)

Why I interviewed him

Isn’t it interesting what exists? Imagine if Yale or Dartmouth or hell the University of Vermont wanted to build a ski area today. They’d have better luck genetically splicing a goat with an Easter egg. Or building a Chuck E. Cheese on Jupiter. Or sealing the Mariana Trench with toothpaste. Imagine the rage from alumni, from the Leaf Defenders, from whatever town they decided to slice the forest up over. U.S. American colleges collectively acting as the NFL’s minor league while piling up millions in broadcast and ticket revenue – totally fine. A college owning a ski area? What are you, insane?

But here we are: Dartmouth College owns a ski area. The origin story, in my imagination: Eustacious VonTrappenSquire VIII, president of Dartmouth and also Scout Emeritus of his local outing club, orders his carriage driver to transport him up to Lyme, where he intends to stock up on parchment and whale oil. As he waits for the apothecary to mix his liver tonic, the old chum takes a draw from his pipe and, peering through his spectacle, spies Holt’s Ledge and Winslow Ledge rising more than 2,100 feet off the valley floor. “Charles, good fellow, the next time you draw up the horses, be a swell and throw my old snowskis into the carriage. I fancy a good ski on those two attractive peaks yonder.” He then loads his musket and shoots a passenger pigeon mid-flight.

“But Sir,” Charles replies, “I’m afraid there’s no trails cut for snow-skiing on those peaks.”

“Well by gum we’ll see about that!” the esteemed president shouts, startling one of the horses so badly that it bolts into Ms. McHenry’s salon and knocks over her spittoon. VonTrappenSquire, humiliated, repays her by making McHenry Dartmouth Skiway’s first general manager.

Unfortunately for my imagination, the actual story is provided in Skiway: A Dartmouth Winter Tale by Everett Wood (sourced from the Skiway’s website):

With its northern New England location and an active Outing Club, Dartmouth College was “the collegiate champion of the outdoor life and winter sports” in the early 1900s. A number of men skied for the United States in the 1936 Winter Olympics in Germany, an amazing feat given that their local ski hills were what is today the Hanover Country Club.

In April 1955, a report, spearheaded by John Meck ’33 entitled, “Development of Adequate Skiing Facilities for Dartmouth Students in the Hanover Area,” was submitted to the Dartmouth Trustee Planning Committee. The report outlined five basic principles, the first two stating, “Dartmouth has had a preeminence in skiing which has been beneficial and… it is very desirable that this preeminence be maintained… both in terms of competition at the ski team level and of recreational skiing for the student body generally.” The Trustees were sold with the idea.

New England Ski History provides the rest:

Following John Meck's report … Dartmouth developed trails on the northeastern slope of Holt's Ledge for the 1956-57 season. Climbing up the new 968 vertical foot complex was a 3,775 foot Poma lift, which reportedly served 5 trails. At the foot of the area, the Peter Brundage Lodge was constructed, designed by local architect W. Brooke Fleck. Dartmouth College formally dedicated its new Holt's Ledge ski area on January 12, 1957, while the lodge was inaugurated on March 3. Accomplished racer Howard Chivers, class of 1939, was the area's first manager.

So there you go: Dartmouth College owns a ski area. But what has kept the college from filing the Skiway in the basement alongside the Latin curriculum and phrenology textbooks? Why does the 12th best university in America, according to U.S. News & World Reports’ rankings, own the 42nd largest ski area in New England by vertical drop? How does Dartmouth Skiway enrich the culture and mission of Dartmouth College in 2023? And where does this peculiar two-sided ski area fit into a New England ski scene increasingly dominated by out-of-state operators with their megapasses and their 42-passenger steamship lifts and their AI-generated, 3D-printed moguls? I had to find out.

What we talked about

Breaking down the 2022-23 ski season; blowing snow on Holt’s earlier in the season; staying competitive in a New England dripping with Epic and Ikon Passes; turning skiing into bowling; staying mentally strong through weeks-long stretches of crummy weather; the Indy Allied Resorts program and whether Dartmouth Skiway would join the Indy Pass; the No Boundaries ski pass; Victor Constant; Winter Park and the impact of the Ikon Pass; the angst of taking over a ski area in spring 2020; why Dartmouth College owns a ski area; it’s a public ski area, Folks; Olympic legacy; Dartmouth College 101; students on Patrol; the financial relationship between the college and the ski area; Friends of the Skiway; Dartmouth’s unusual two-face layout; whether the two sides could be connected via tunnel or other means; why both sides of the Skiway stop more than 1,000 vertical feet short of their mountain summits, and whether that could ever change; expansion opportunities; a student-led environmental assessment of the Skiway; “we have great potential to be one of the most sustainable ski areas in the country”; upgrading snowmaking; the Dupree family and HKD’s support of the ski area; upgrading the Holt’s Ledge double; where we could see a non-beginner surface lift; whether we could ever see a high-speed lift on either side of the mountain; building out the glade network; the potential for night-skiing; and season passes.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

Adamczyk is relatively new to Dartmouth Skiway, arriving that first Covid summer with a Winter Park employee pass still dangling from his ski jacket. It was a scary time to punch in for your first ski area general manager role, but also an opportune one: suddenly, none of the old ways worked anymore. Rethink everything. Try anything. It was a moment of maximum creativity and flexibility in a sometimes-staid industry.

Not that Adamczyk has done anything radical. Or needed to – Dartmouth Skiway, unlike so many small New England ski areas living and dead, is well-financed and well-cared-for. But his timing was exquisite. Covid reshuffled the purpose and place of small-mountain skiing in the lift-served food chain. If Loon and Cannon and Sunapee and Waterville and Killington sold out or ran out of parking spots and you still needed someplace to ski that weekend, well, you may have ended up at Dartmouth Skiway.

The Skiway has been able to ride that momentum to steady increases in annual skier visits. What led directly to this podcast conversation was the Skiway’s first annual report, which Adamczyk assembled last November:

Adamczyk also helped found a Friends of Dartmouth Skiway group, a popular mechanism for supporting nonprofit organizations. You can contribute here:

Yes, the lifts are still slow, and they’re likely to stay that way. Dartmouth Skiway isn’t going to become Loon West, despite the thousand feet of unused vert hanging out on either side of the ski area. But the place holds a different sort of potential. Dartmouth Skiway can transform itself into a model of: a sustainable, energy-efficient ski area; a small mountain thriving in big-mountain country; and a nonprofit operating in a profit-driven industry. They’re off to a good start.

What I got wrong

Adamczyk and I briefly discussed when the Skiway updated the drive on its Holt’s Ledge Hall double. According to New England Ski History, the ski area upgraded the machine with a Doppelmayr-CTEC drive in 2005.

I had a squint-at-the-screen moment when I mis-guessed the name of the Winslow-side glade trail several times, calling it “M.R.O.,” “H.R.O.,” and “N.R.O.” It is N.R.O., as you can see (I do not know what “N.R.O.” stands for):

Why you should ski Dartmouth Skiway

It you’re looking for a peak-days getaway from the chaos of Killington or Cannon or Bretton Woods, this isn’t a bad alternative. Dartmouth Skiway’s 38,000 annual skier visits wouldn’t fill the K-1 gondola queue on a February Saturday. Sure, the Skiway’s lifts are slow and stop far below the summits, but the place is cheap and well-maintained, and it delivers a thousand(-ish) feet of vert, two distinct faces, and twisty-fun New England rollers.

But there’s something else. Over the past decade, I’ve shifted my ski season philosophy to emphasize exploration and novelty. I’ve always been a resort-hopper; my typical mid-90s ski season rotated through a dozen Michigan bumps punctuated by a run east or west. But by the time I’d moved east in the early 2000s, I held a firm prejudice for larger mountains, sculpting a wintertime rotation of Killington-Mount Snow-Stratton-Sugarbush-Gore-Whiteface (and the like), peppered with some Hunter Mountain or Windham. I’d convinced myself that the smaller ski areas weren’t “worth” my time and resources.

But then my daughter, now 15, started skiing. I hauled her to Gore, Sugarbush, Killington, Sunday River, Loon, Steamboat, Copper. Her preference, from the start, was for the smaller and less frantic: Thunder Ridge, Bousquet, Plattekill, Catamount, Royal, Willard, Mohawk, and her favorite, 200-vertical-foot Maple Ski Ridge outside Schenectady, New York. She’s at ease in these places, free to ski without mob-dodging, without waiting in liftlines, without fighting for a cafeteria seat.

And on these down-day adventures, I realized something: I was having a great time. The brutal energy of The Beast is thrilling and invigorating, but also exhausting. And so I began exploring: Elk Mountain, Montage, Greek Peak, Song, Labrador, Peek’N Peak, Oak Mountain, Mount Pleasant, Magic, Berkshire East, Butternut, Otis Ridge, Spring Mountain, Burke, Magic, King Pine, Granite Gorge, Tenney, Whaleback, Black Mountain of Maine. And so many more, 139 ski areas since downloading the Slopes app on my Pet Rectangle at the beginning of the 2018-19 ski season. This process of voyaging and discovery has been thrilling and gratifying, and acted as a huge inspiration for and catalyst of the newsletter you’re reading today.

I’ve become a completist. I want to ski every ski area in North America. Each delivers its own thrill, clutches its own secrets, releases its own vibe. This novelty is addictive. Like trying new restaurants or collecting passport stamps. Yes, I have my familiars – Mountain Creek, everything in the Catskills – where I can rip off groomers and max out the floaters and have calibrated the approach speed on each little kicker. But the majority of my winter is spent exploring the Dartmouth Skiways of the world.

Budget megapasses, with their ever-expansive rosters, have made it easier than ever to set up and cross off a wintertime checklist of new destinations. So take that Indy Pass, and, yes, cash in your days at Jay and Waterville and Cannon and Saddleback. But linger in between, at Black New Hampshire and Black Maine and Saskadena Six and Pats Peak. And cash in those discount days for the Indy Allied resorts: McIntyre and Whaleback and Middlebury Snowbowl and King Pine. And Dartmouth Skiway.

Podcast Notes

On the No Boundaries Pass

Dartmouth Skiway was an inaugural member of the No Boundaries Pass, a coupon book that granted access to four New England ski areas for $99 last season:

The pass was good for up to three days at each ski area. The concept was novel: No Boundaries mailed each passholder a coupon book that contained three coupons for each partner mountain. Skiers would then trade in one coupon for a non-holiday weekday lift ticket, two coupons for a Sunday lift ticket, and all three coupons for a Saturday or holiday lift ticket. So you could clock between four and 12 days, depending on when you skied. The pass delivers a payout to each ski area for each skier visit, just like Indy or Ikon or Mountain Collective.

The Indy Pass, of course, has already scooped up most of New England’s grandest independent mountains, and they don’t allow their mountains to join competing, revenue-generating passes. Dartmouth Skiway and Whaleback are both Indy Allied members, and it’s unclear how long Indy will tolerate this upstart pass. So far, they’re ignoring it, which, given the limited market for a small-mountain pass in a region rippling with deep megapass rosters, is probably the correct move.

On Victor Constant ski area

Adamczyk’s first job in skiing was at Victor Constant, a 475-vertical-foot ski area run by the U.S. Army at West Point, New York. It is one of the closest ski areas to New York City and is priced like it’s 1972, but almost no one has heard of the place. I wrote a brief recap after I stopped in two years ago:

Victor Constant pops off the banks of the Hudson, 500 vertical feet of pure fall line served by an antique yellow triple chair. It’s 45 miles north of the George Washington Bridge and no one knows it’s there. It’s part of West Point and managed by the Army but it’s open to the public and lift tickets are $27. The terrain is serviceable but the few inches of fresh snow had been paved into blacktop by inept grooming, and so I lapped the wild lumpy natural-snow trails through the trees for two hours. This tiny kingdom was guarded by the most amazing ski patroller I’d ever seen, an absolute zipper bombing tight lines all over the mountain and I could almost see the cartoon bubble popping out of his brain saying Goddamn I can’t believe I’m getting paid to crush it like this.

Here’s the trailmap:

If you live anywhere near this joint, do yourself a favor and swing through next winter.

On the Dartmouth Outing Club

We briefly discuss the Dartmouth Outing Club, which bills itself as “the oldest and largest collegiate outing club in the country. Anyone — member or not — may stay at our cabins, go on our trips, rent our gear, and take our classes.” Founded in 1909, the club, among other things, maintains more than 50 miles of the Appalachian Trail. Learn more here.

On the original Dartmouth ski area at Oak Hill

I couldn’t find any trailmaps of Dartmouth’s original ski hill, which Adamczyk and New England Ski History agree was a surface-lift bump at Oak Hill in Hanover. The area continues to operate as a Nordic center. My best guess is that the surface lift served the cleared area still visible on Google Maps:

If you have any additional insight here, please let me know.

On Dartmouth Skiway in letters and moving pictures

Dartmouth Skiway is the subject of at least two books and a PBS documentary:

* Skiway: A Dartmouth Winter Tale, book by Everett Wood – order here

* Passion for Skiing, book by Stephen L. Waterhouse – for some reason, this is priced at $489.89 on Amazon

* Passion for Snow, PBS documentary based upon the Passion for Skiing book:

On Dartmouth’s two sides

Dartmouth Skiway is, like many ski areas, segmented by a road. But unlike Belleayre, which has addressed the issue with a bridge, or Titus, which has bored a tunnel underneath the highway, the Skiway hasn’t gotten around to creating a ski-across connection. You can skate across, of course, when the road has sufficient snow, but mostly you have to remove your skis and trek.

Holt’s Ledge opened first, with a 3,775-foot Poma in 1956 or ‘57, according to New England Ski History. Winslow followed in 1967, when the ski area opted to expand rather than install snowmaking. Grim winters followed – the Skiway operated just 34 days over the 1973-74 season and just four days in the 1979-80 campaign – before the mountain installed snowmaking in 1985.

On the Appalachian trail crossing over Holt’s Ledge

Dartmouth Skiway has compelling expansion potential. While the lifts rise just shy of 1,000 vertical feet on either side of the ski area, Holt’s Ledge holds 2,220 feet of total vertical, and Winslow soars 2,282 feet. Maximizing this on either side would instantly thrust the Skiway into the Cannon/Loon/Wildcat league of big-time New Hampshire ski areas. Adamczyk and I discuss vertical expansion potential on either face. There is some, it turns out, on Winslow. But Holt’s Ledge runs into the Appalachian Trail shortly above the top of the double chair. Meaning you have a better chance of converting the baselodge into a Burger King than you do of pushing the lift any higher than it goes today:

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 58/100 in 2023, and number 444 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

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Who

Tom Price, General Manager of Timberline, West Virginia

Recorded on

June 26, 2023

About Timberline, West Virginia

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: The Perfect Family

Located in: Davis, West Virginia

Year founded: 1983

Pass affiliations: The Perfect Pass – unlimited access

Reciprocal partners: unlimited access to Perfect North, Indiana with the Perfect Pass

Closest neighboring ski areas: Canaan Valley (8 minutes); White Grass XC touring/backcountry center (11 minutes); Wisp, Maryland (1 hour, 15 minutes); Snowshoe, West Virginia (1 hour, 50 minutes); Bryce, Virginia (2 hours); Homestead, Virginia (2 hours); Massanutten, Virginia (2 hours, 21 minutes)

Base elevation: 3,268 feet

Summit elevation: 4,268 feet

Vertical drop: 1,000 feet

Skiable Acres: 100

Average annual snowfall: 150 inches

Trail count: 20 (2 double-black, 2 black, 6 intermediate, 10 beginner), plus two named glades and two terrain parks

Lift count: 4 (1 high-speed six-pack, 1 fixed-grip quad, 2 carpets - view Lift Blog’s inventory of Timberline’s lift fleet)

Why I interviewed him

In January, I arrived at Timberline on day five of a brutal six-day meltdown across the Mid-Atlantic. I’d passed through six other ski areas en route – all were partially open, stapled together, passable but clearly struggling. Then this:

After three days of melt-out tiptoe, I was not prepared for what I found at gut-renovated Timberline. And what I found was 1,000 vertical feet of the best version of warm-weather skiing I’ve ever seen. Other than the trail footprint, this is a brand-new ski area. When the Perfect Family – who run Perfect North, Indiana like some sort of military operation – bought the joint in 2020, they tore out the lifts, put in a brand-new six-pack and carpet-loaded quad, installed all-new snowmaking, and gut-renovated the lodge. It is remarkable. Stunning. Not a hole in the snowpack. Coming down the mountain from Davis, you can see Timberline across the valley beside state-run Canaan Valley ski area – the former striped in white, the latter mostly barren.

I skied four fast laps off the summit before the sixer shut at 4:30. Then a dozen runs off the quad. The skier level is comically terrible, beginners sprawled all over the unload, all over the green trails. But the energy is level 100 amped, and everyone I talked to raved about the transformation under the new owners. I hope the Perfect family buys 50 more ski areas – their template works.

Perfect North is one of the most incredible ski areas in the country, a machine that proves skiing can thrive in marginal conditions. Timberline is Exhibit B, demonstrating that an operating model built on aggressive snowmaking and constant investment can scale.

Which seems obvious, right? We’re not exactly trying to decipher grandma’s secret meatloaf recipe here. But it’s not so easy. Vail Resorts has barely kept Paoli Peaks – Indiana’s only other ski area – open two dozen days each of the past two seasons (Perfect North hit 86 days for the 2022-23 winter and 81 in 2021-22). And Canaan Valley, next door to Timberline, is like that house with uncut grass and dogs pooping all over the yard. Surely they’re aware of a lawnmower. And yet.

Skiers, everywhere, want very simple things: snow to ski on, a reliable product, consistency. That can be hard to deliver in an unpredictable world. But while their competitors make excuses, Timberline and Perfect North make snow.

What we talked about

Snowmaking, snowmaking, snowmaking; applying an Indiana operating philosophy to the Appalachian wilds; changing consumer expectations; 36 inches of snow in May and why the ski area didn’t open when the storm hit; night skiing returns; when you fall in love with an uncomfortable thing; leaving Utah for Indiana; The Perfect family and Perfect North Slopes; fire in Ohio; what happened when Perfect North bought Timberline; a brief history of Timberline and why it failed; why this time is different; Mid-Atlantic and West Virginia ski culture; “you bought a ski area with no chairlifts”; why Timberline installed a six-pack to the summit to replace two old top-to-bottom triples; deciding on a fixed-grip quad for a mid-mountain lift; coming tweaks to smooth out unloading; why Timberline moved the beginner area over toward the lodge; whether we could see a mountain-top beginner area; the surprising trail that was a major factor in the decision to purchase Timberline; big plans for the terrain park, including a surface lift; how the trail footprint evolved from one ownership group to the next; trail map as marketing tool versus functional tool; expanding the glade network; potential trail expansion; considering a second summit lift for Timberline; a spectacular lodge renovation; adding up the investment; assessing local and destination support three seasons into the comeback; growing Timberline into more of a Southeast-style resort a-la Snowshoe or Wintergreen; reception so far for the “Perfect Pass” combo pass with Perfect North; the Indy Pass; and Timberline’s unique day-ticket price structure.    

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

This has been one of my most-requested interviews since the Perfects bought the place back in 2019. The splash and kazam of Timberline’s renovation inspired awe and jealousy among skiers, who couldn’t believe how easy the new owners made it all look and resent the 60-year-old Hall doubles spinning at their local. Despite the fact that It’s three-decades-old technology, a high-speed six-pack still stirs up a thrill in most skiers, an emblem of prosperity and seriousness, amplified by the fact that some of America’s wealthiest resorts – Jackson Hole, Deer Valley, Aspen Mountain and Highlands, Beaver Creek, Alta, Snowbird – still don’t have a single sixer between them.

Which, OK, great. Throw a $20 million renovation at a trailer park, and it will start to resemble Beverly Hills. But do you want to live there? That’s what I needed to figure out: was Timberline a flashy gamble for an out-of-its-league Midwest operator, or proof-of-concept for an industry that needs to fortify itself for life in a different sort of world than most of its ski areas were born into?

Obviously, I think it’s the latter. But it’s hard to explain. Most skiers outside of the region refuse to take Mid-Atlantic skiing seriously. But it’s time to start paying closer attention. There are some seriously talented operators in Appalachia. Wintergreen, Virginia just finished a season with exactly zero inches of natural snowfall. Massanutten, Virginia and Wisp, Maryland both opened in November despite temperatures in the 70s for most of the month. The climate catastrophes that loom over skiing’s future are the realities that Mid-Atlantic ski areas just spent three decades adapting to.

Timberline had the advantage of starting over with all of its institutional knowledge, the hard lessons of the region’s recent past, and the low-energy, high-impact technology of the current moment. It’s a powerful combination, and one that has made Timberline a showcase for what a ski area of the 2020s can be. With three seasons of operations behind it, it was time to check in and ask how well all that was working.

What I got wrong

I said that Perfect North had 200 snowguns. The actual number, according to this SMI case study, is 245.

I stated that the vertical drop of the now-removed lower-mountain beginner chairlift was “a couple hundred vertical feet maybe.” It was 90 feet, according to Lift Blog.

Why you should ski Timberline

Timberline has one thing that its competitors don’t: legit, border-to-border terrain. As Price tells me in our interview, there are “probably 100” trails on the mountain when it snows, which it does more in this pocket of high-altitude West Virginia than anywhere else in the region.

Most Mid-Atlantic ski areas are all-seasons resorts with ski areas attached. Timberline, however, is more ski than resort. It’s a badass little mountain, with a thousand vertical feet of expansive, imaginative lines. That makes Timberline an indispensable character in the regional ski cast, the sort of bruiser that any ski state needs as a foil to its more manicured neighbors (think Mount Bohemia, Michigan; Berkshire East, Massachusetts; Plattekill, New York; Magic Mountain, Vermont; Wildcat, New Hampshire). Yes, parks are important. Grooming is essential. But so is tree-skiing. So is opening up the wide and wild world off-piste. This is what keeps skiing interesting, and what sends locals out into the wider world, north and west, to explore the vastness of it all.

Podcast Notes

On Perfect North

The other day, my family watched Back to the Future Part II. My daughter hadn’t been with us when we’d watched part one a few days prior, and so she was a little confused. Similarly, if you listen to this Timberline episode before the episode I recorded with Perfect North GM Jonathan Davis last summer, you’ll be starting behind. Not only does that episode contain important background on the Perfect family’s accidental but fierce entrance into the ski industry, but Davis discusses how the family bought Timberline in a 2019 auction. The story starts at the 1:30:33 mark:

On Timberline’s renaissance

DC Ski also wrote a comprehensive article on Timberline’s comeback:

On the lodge fire at Mad River (not that Mad River)

Price was general manager at Mad River, Ohio – which was at the time owned by Peak Resorts and is now a Vail property – when a fire destroyed the lodge:

Peak Resorts quickly built a new lodge, investing $6.5 million into a facility that was almost twice the size of the old one.

On the lift accident at Timberline

Price discusses a lift de-ropement that marred Timberline’s reputation. The local ABC News affiliate wrote about the incident shortly after it occurred, in February 2016:

About 25 people fell to the ground after a ski lift derailed at the Timberline Resort in Davis, West Virginia, this morning, an official told ABC News.

The drop was about 30 feet, according to Joe Stevens of the West Virginia Ski Areas Association, of which Timberline is a member.

Two people were hospitalized with non-life threatening injuries, Stevens said.

About 100 skiers were left stranded on the ski lift after the derailment, Chief Sandy Green of Canaan Valley Fire Department Chief Sandy Green told ABC News.

The lift in question was Thunderstruck, a triple chair that, along with the resort’s other two chairlifts, the new owners demolished in 2020.

On the old trailmaps/lift configuration/trail footprint

Price and I talked extensively about Timberline’s new and old lift and trail alignments, which differ significantly. Here’s a circa 2016 trailmap, showing the mountain with two top-to-bottom triples and several trails that no longer exist:

And here are the old and contemporary maps side by side:

On White Grass and Canaan Valley

Timberline is adjacent to two ski areas: White Grass Touring Center and Canaan Valley. Here’s how they stack together on the map:

White Grass is widely considered one of the best cross-country ski areas in the East, with 50 kilometers of trails:

Canaan Valley is owned by the state of West Virginia. It’s an 850-footer with 95 acres of terrain:

Both Canaan and White Grass are Indy Pass partners. You can ski between all three ski areas, Price says, on cross-country skis, though a peak separates White Grass and Canaan.

As impressive as this three-resort lineup is, the region could have grown into something even more spectacular, had a planned resort been built at nearby Mount Porte Crayon. Blue Ridge Outdoors profiled this ski-area-that-never-was in 2010:

Porte Crayon has all the right ingredients for a resort: an average of 150 to 200 inches of snow a year, a unique hollow shape that helps push much of the windblown snow onto the northern slopes, and big vertical drop.

“From top to bottom, we were looking at a true 2,200 foot vertical drop, making it the sixth largest vertical drop at a resort east of the Rockies, with weather similar to southern Vermont,” Jorgenson says. “It would have been the largest resort south of Lake Placid, New York.”

Bright Enterprises started buying up land on Porte Crayon over a decade ago. The plan called for a 2,000-acre resort with more than 2,000 feet of vertical drop on a north-facing slope that got plenty of natural snow. Skiers salivated over the prospect of skiing that kind of terrain below the Mason Dixon, while environmentalists cringed at the thought of a mountaintop village, golf course, and second home development scarring the pristine landscape.

For ten years, a debate brewed with locals and skiers coming down hard either for or against Almost Heaven. Eventually, Bright Enterprises failed to purchase a significant piece of private land at the top of the mountain, and resort plans fell apart.

Today, the mountain is a well-known backcountry ski zone. It sits just eight miles overland from Timberline:

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 60/100 in 2023, and number 446 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

This podcast hit paid subscribers’ inboxes on July 19. It dropped for free subscribers on July 22. To receive future pods as soon as they’re live, and to support independent ski journalism, please consider an upgrade to a paid subscription. You can also subscribe for free below:

Who

Ricardo Margulis, General Manager of Valle Nevado, Chile

Recorded on

July 3, 2023

About Valle Nevado

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Majority owned by Mountain Capital Partners

Located in: Lo Barnechea, Chile

Year founded: 1988

Pass affiliations:

Base elevation: 9,383 feet

Summit elevation: 12,041 feet

Vertical drop: 2,658 feet

Skiable acres: 2,200 lift-served (20,000-plus additional acres served by helicopter)

Trails: 44

Average annual snowfall: 276 inches

Lift fleet: 16 lifts (1 gondola, 1 high-speed quad, 1 fixed quad, 1 triple, 2 doubles, 1 T-bar, 6 J-bars, 3 carpets)

Why I interviewed him

The Storm is firmly anchored in North America. Built on 4 a.m. alarms and winding explorations of the Whites and the Greens and the Adirondacks and the Catskills and the Poconos and the Berkshires. Flights west to the Rockies and the Wasatch and the Sierras. Born on bumps rising from the Midwest flats.

That domain will always be the core of this thing. Two years ago, I blew out of the Northeast to expand coverage to the entire United States. This year, I began folding in Canada. I can’t go any farther. I don’t know how many ski areas there are on planet Earth, but an educated guess is a minimum of 10,000, with more than half of those being in Europe. If I live to be 1,000 I might get there. But I won’t so I need to fence the yard.

However. Just because I live in and focus on North America does not mean my interests stop at the oceans. The world’s vast and varied ski cultures are worth considering, as outlets to disrupt our biases, as wells of supreme adventure, and as crucial links in the story of skiing, which fuels the evolution of our domestic obsession in crucial, often unseen ways.

But I have to pick my spots. This podcast is built less on novelty than on perspective and completeness. There are only so many far-flung spotlights that my listeners will tolerate, just as there are only so many episodes on ropetow bumps or the Midwest or even mighty New England that they can handle (this rule does not apply to the West). So where, in this whole wild world of endless skiing and endless snow, do I focus?

My first entry in this very occasional international series landed almost two years ago, when I hosted the longtime general manager of Mt. Buller, Australia on the podcast. Why Mt. Buller? Well, frankly, they reached out to me and asked. But the ski area also hangs onto a strong North American connection: it is a longtime Ikon and Mountain Collective partner. If my readers are planning a Southern Hemisphere run over our summer, they likely scan the Epic and Ikon rosters before they do anything else.

Enter: Valle Nevado. It is the only South American option for skiers clutching a North American ski pass. Vail’s Epic Pass, believe it or not, gives you nothing in Argentina or Chile – the only serious ski destinations on the continent. But Ikon, Mountain Collective, and, now, Mountain Capital Partners’ Power Pass all give you between two and seven days at the Chilean resort.

Not that skiers don’t have other options. Lift tickets to Las Leñas, Argentina’s second-largest ski area, are just $66. Catedral Alta Patagonia, the nation’s largest, sells a ticket for a pricier but still reasonable $108. El Colorado, right next door to – and connected with – Valle Nevado sells a daily lift ticket for around $73. Unlike large parts of U.S. American skiing, you can still ramble without a pass through the Andes (though I expect both Vail and Alterra to eventually acquire or partner with more ski areas throughout the continent).

But “free” lift tickets are a powerful draw, even for many travelers with the means to voyage to South America for a ski trip. And a lot of North Americans are going to end up at Valle Nevado for as long as it retains its trio of U.S.-based pass memberships. It’s a place that, when I’m considering what matters to my readers and my listeners, fits right in.

What we talked about

A strange snowstorm to start the Chilean ski season; the best time of year to ski Chile; target closing dates; “in 2020, Chile was closed”; the first normal summer for international visitors since 2019; the Valle Nevado origin story; enter Mountain Capital Partners; the MCP way; MCP’s investment priorities; the prevalence of surface lifts at Valle Nevado (and South America in general); why Valle Nevado would rather install a new lift in a new place than upgrade a surface lift to a chairlift; where the resort could potentially expand; the resort’s massive heliski operation; 7,000 feet of vert!; a ski circus at the top of the Andes; how you can ski La Parva and El Colorado if you’re a Valle Nevado hotel guest, or if you show up with an Ikon, Mountain Collective, or Power Pass; why Valle Nevado joined so many U.S.-based megapasses; whether Valle Nevado will renew with Ikon and Mountain Collective when its contracts expire; Valle Nevado’s evolving position on the Power Pass; staying at the village; why international visitors shouldn’t rent a car; the wild, 8,000-foot-elevation access road up from Santiago; why the road is safer than it looks; and snowmaking past, present, and future.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

In January, Mountain Capital Partners, the under-the-radar but aggressive Southwest operator that is rapidly growing its U.S. portfolio, announced its intention to acquire a majority stake in Valle Nevado. They closed on the deal in April. It was the first acquisition of a South American ski resort by a North American ski company (at least that I’m aware of; I’m sure there’s some newspaper clipping from 1946 about the eccentric Hayward “Skip” McSteeljaw, owner of Mt. Buckaroo, New York cowboying a remote Argentinian peak at which to pass his summers).

This was a big deal. By beating Vail and Alterra to the continent, MCP signaled that the company intends to compete at an international scale. Prior to this purchase, MCP ran one of the most important regional ski passes in the United States. But no one seriously considered it a competitor to the Epic or Ikon passes outside of its immediate markets. Perhaps they still don’t, but perception matters. And by reaching outside of its Southwest home turf with a crown-jewel purchase that trumps its current alphas – Arizona Snowbowl and Purgatory – in international prestige, MCP has evolved from a slick local operator to an ambitious and aggressive growth machine that could be a serious contender when and if North America’s remaining megaresorts – Jackson Hole, Telluride, Taos, Alta, Whitefish, etc. – hit the market.

MCP also introduced a unique problem to the rapidly evolving U.S. megapass market: what happens when a small conglomerate with its own multi-mountain pass purchases an Ikon Pass partner? Ikon has so far tolerated some crossover with competing passes – all but four of Mountain Collective’s partners (Sugar Bowl, Grand Targhee, Le Massif, and Marmot Basin), are also on the Ikon Pass. Aspen’s four mountains have their own pass, as do Boyne’s three New England Ikon Pass partners: Loon, Sunday River, and Sugarloaf. Alterra surely loses some market share to Mountain Collective, but the pass is run out of Aspen, which partly owns Alterra.

The Power Pass presents a different test case: will Alterra tolerate internal competition from a regional pass that competes directly with Ikon in the Southwest? The answer, for now, seems to be “probably.” Valle Nevado’s contract with the Ikon Pass lasts through 2025. Alterra and Mountain Collective both gave the resort permission to join the Power Pass, Margulis said, starting with the current ski season. Alterra either doesn’t view the Power Pass as a serious threat yet, or is not eager to let go of its only South American resort partner. For North American skiers, a trip to Chile – which sits in the Eastern timezone – is a lot easier logistically and financially than a run to New Zealand or Australia, which are so remote that it’s already February 2029 there.

The other side of this question is just as interesting: will rowdy and rabidly independent MCP have any interest in retaining Ikon or Mountain Collective membership? A big part of the company’s identity, after all, is not being Vail or Alterra, or even Boyne or Powdr Corp. How do they take Alterra’s money without compromising some of their double-bird-to-the-system rep? It probably depends on how big the check is. Margulis tells us in the podcast that Alterra transferred around $300,000 into Valle Nevado’s bank account last year. If each Ikon redemption equaled $50 (an estimate based on nothing, I’ll admit), that would equal 6,000 visitors. Not a lot in the context of how many Ikon Passes Alterra sells each year (which is probably approaching or past 1 million, a number that’s based on deep sources), but a substantial bonus for a resort that’s seated at the end of the earth. MCP is unlikely to replace that number with Power Pass visits, so what to do?

I get into all this with Margulis in the podcast. He is a thoughtful, diplomatic leader, and he endorses all parties without committing to any of them. But one thing is clear: the pass roulette playing out in the Andes over the next few years is a wargames scenario likely to repeat at one or more key North American resorts over the coming decade. This is World War Skiing, the First Battle. There will be alliances, betrayals, surprises, surrenders. As usual, America is right in the middle, and it’s too soon to tell if that’s good or bad for everyone involved.

What I got wrong

I noted that Valle Nevado was on its “fifth season” as an Ikon Pass and Mountain Collective partner. The ski area actually joined Mountain Collective following its 2014 ski season, making 2023 the ninth season of membership on that coalition. The resort joined Ikon in November 2018, making 2023 the fifth numerical summer for Ikon Pass holders, though the third or fourth in practice. Chile was closed to international visitors for the 2020 and ’21 ski seasons, and the resort did not open at all in 2020, meaning that, practically speaking, this is the third year that most Ikon Pass holders could really use their pass at Valle Nevado.

Why you should ski Valle Nevado

Until you’ve seen it, you can’t possibly understand the drama. Imagine if the Rockies mainlined ‘roids like a 1990s baseball slugger. Or got really pissed off and went Incredible Hulk. Or they went U.S. American homeowner and built an extra vertical wing atop their peaks. As I wrote when MCP announced the Valle Nevado acquisition in January:

Colorad-Bro can be an insecure animal. One of his favorite pastimes is telling people from other states that they don’t have real mountains. Just hills in Vermont, he’ll say. We have mountains in Colorado, he says proudly. As though he chiseled them himself from the Earth’s crust.

I wonder what Colorad-Bro does when he meets someone from Chile or Argentina, both of which sprawl from the peak of Aconcagua. At 22,838 feet, it’s 8,399 feet taller than Mount Elbert, the highest peak in Colorado. That’s like stacking Copper and A-Basin and Keystone on top of Elbert – and still looking 140 feet up to the top. This must make Colorad-Bro sad.

Valle Nevado doesn’t reach those heights, but with a base at 9,383 feet, it sits higher than most North American ski areas. The terrain is entirely above treeline, enormous and exposed, a snow basket at the top of the world.

Admittedly, Valle Nevado’s lift-served numbers are modest compared to the North American skyscrapers: 2,200 acres and 2,658 vertical feet. That’s about the size of Discovery, Montana or Kirkwood. And above-treeline skiing always feels smaller to me. This may seem paradoxical, as no trees equals more terrain, but one glade run at a small ski area like Berkshire East can feel larger than a whole open bowl, as each line feels distinct in a way that un-treed skiing never can.

Valle Nevado, however, must be considered in this context of its interconnected neighbors: 1,100-acre El Colorado and 988-acre La Parva. They cannot be skied on one lift ticket, but maintained and signed trails run between both resorts and Valle Nevado. That gives skiers 4,288 acres to play in – more than Mammoth (3,500 acres), Northstar (3,170 acres), or Winter Pak (3,081 acres), and roughly the size of Mt. Bachelor. If you’re really balling, the heli runs – some up to 7,000 vertical feet – are right there too.

And then there’s all the rest of it: Chile, vino, Santiago, that surreal road up from the flats, the passport stamp, winter-in-summer, the food, the parties, the international stir. Oh and this:

Podcast Notes

On Mountain Capital Partners

Mountain Capital Partners has been the fastest-growing U.S. ski conglomerate over the past year, adding three new ski areas: Willamette Pass, Oregon (as operator); Valle Nevado; and Lee Canyon, Nevada. Here’s how the company’s current roster stacks up:

The company has basically guaranteed that it’s not finished empire-building – April’s Lee Canyon announcement noted that “future resort investments are being explored and will be announced at a later date.” Untethered by the attributes that define Vail and Alterra’s purchases – either a mega-mega or big-city-adjacent – MCP could land its ship just about anywhere.

On the Power Pass

MCP has collected all of those resorts on its Power Pass, an outstanding product that, like Ikon and Epic, also delivers days at non-owned resorts:

Sadly, the Power Pass site has no mention of days at Copper Mountain, which last season was included on the top-tier pass.

On La Parva

Base elevation: 8,704 feet

Summit elevation: 11,722 feet

Vertical drop: 3,022 feet

Skiable acres: 988

Trails: 40 (18% expert, 43% advanced, 20% intermediate, 20% beginner)

Average annual snowfall: 118 inches

Lift fleet: 15 lifts (2 quads, 2 triples, 1 double, 10 surface lifts)

On El Colorado

Base elevation: 7,972 feet

Summit elevation: 10,935 feet

Vertical drop: 2,963 feet

Skiable acres: 1,100

Trails: 98 (34% expert, 32% advanced, 17% intermediate, 17% beginner)

Average annual snowfall: N/A

Lift fleet: 19 lifts (3 triples, 1 double, 15 surface lifts)

On Les Arcs

Margulis mentions Valle Nevado’s connection to Les Arcs, France. This doesn’t have much to do with the actual story, but I thought we would all appreciate looking at this trailmap:

Les Arcs is actually four interconnected ski areas. Here are the combined stats, in case you’re wondering:

Base elevation: 3,937 feet

Summit elevation: 10,583 feet

Vertical drop: 6,646 feet

Skiable acres: Who knows. Euros measure their resorts in kilometers of slopes, and Les Arcs covers 425 “KMs,” whatever that means

Lift fleet: 52 lifts (8 “gondolas etc.”, 27 chairlifts, 17 surface lifts)

On that wild access road

If I rode up from Santiago to the ski resorts floating on the western edge of the Andes mountains today, I would come away with videos and photos of the wild endless switchbacks. But the last time I ascended the route – from a Santiago ski shop to El Colorado – was in 2005, before the Pet Rectangle redefined and ruined our collective lives. So all I have are my memories: a suicidal minibus driver charging uphill with little regard for life or the consequences of high-speed mountainside collisions. No guardrails. Passing on blind curves. Like we were filming some South American Bourne movie. But we weren’t. We were just going skiing. Dear Lord.

Margulis tells me the highway is much safer now, and who knows if I’m even remembering it correctly, as I’d spent the previous two days in a borderline hallucinatory state brought on by Argentinian lettuce. It was a weird week.

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 62/100 in 2023, and number 448 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

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Who

Jared Smith, President and CEO of Alterra Mountain Company

Recorded on

July 26, 2023

About Alterra Mountain Company

Alterra is owned by a joint venture between KSL Capital and Henry Crown and Company. Alterra owns and operates the following properties:

The company’s Ikon Pass delivers access to these resorts for the 2023-24 ski season:

Why I interviewed him

If I could unleash one artifact of 2023 skiing on the winters of my teens and twenties, it would be these passes. Ikon, Epic, Indy, Mountain Collective. It doesn’t matter which. They’re all amazing. Punchcards to white-capped horizons. The kind of guidebook I could have spun a winter around, sating those impulses for novelty, variety, constant motion.

Not that I mind them now. For anyone, especially families, that lives near skiing and vacations to skiing, they basically saved the sport. Day trips to Windham, weekends at Stratton, a spring break run to the Wasatch: a tough itinerary – perhaps an impossible one – without that plastic ticket secured the previous March.

But man I coulda used one of those little Ski Club cards when I was untethered and unmoored and wired at all times on Mountain Dew. And broke, too, by the way. Teenage Stu’s ski circuits followed discount days more than snowstorms. Fifteen-dollar lift tickets after one on Sunday at Sugar Loaf? I’m there, rolling three-deep in a red Ford Probe, the driver’s-side passenger seat dropped for the skis and poles and boots angled in through the hatchback.

I would have preferred a membership. In my 1990s Indy Pass fantasies I roll the Michigan circuit early winter – Nub’s and Caberfae and Crystal and Shanty Creek and Treetops. Then 94 to 80, popping into all the snowgun-screaming High Plains bumps along the route west. Chestnut and Sundown and Seven Oaks and Mt. Crescent and Terry Peak. Then the big mountains and the big snows. Red Lodge and Lost Trail and Brundage and Silver and 49 North and White Pass. Or I skip the Midwest and roll Ikon, spend a week circling California. Another in Utah. A third in Colorado on the way home.

It's weird how much I think about this. Alternate versions of winters long melted away. I’m not one to dwell or regret. Or pine for the lost or never-was. But that’s the power of the multi-mountain ski pass. I never re-imagine my past with an iPhone or the internet or even the modern skis that have amped up the average skier’s ability level. But I constantly imagine how much more I could have skied, and how many more places I could have visited, and how much sooner I would have discovered the ski world outside of the destination circuit, had the Ikon and Epic passes arrived 15 to 20 years before they did.

These passes are special, is my point here. As a catalyst to adventure and an enabler to the adventurous, they have no equal that I can think of in any other industry. It’s as though I could buy some supper club pass and use it at every restaurant in town for an entire year without ever paying again. And among these remarkable products, the Ikon Pass is currently the best of them all. It’s hard to dispute this. Look again at the roster above. What they’ve built in just six years is remarkable. And it keeps getting better.

What we talked about

The sudden passing and legacy of Aspen managing partner Jim Crown; why Aspen is not part of Alterra; from entry-level salesman to CEO at Ticketmaster; the dramatic evolution of Ticketmaster and its adaptation to the digital age; skiing’s digital transition; entering skiing at a high level as an outsider; “we don’t make it easy at all for people to come enjoy our sport”; how to better meet consumers on their Pet Rectangles; balancing affordability with crowding and capacity; could lift ticket pricing be more like baseball or concerts?; finally some sensible thoughts on lowering lift ticket prices; $289 lift tickets; filling midweek ghost towns; “we’re on the front end of our pricing and product-packaging journey as an industry”; why Alterra bought Snow Valley; rethinking the mountain’s lift fleet; chairlift safety bars; Snow Valley expansion potential; housing and bed development at Snow Valley’s base; considering a lift connection between Bear Mountain and Snow Summit; whether Alterra could purchase more city-adjacent ski areas; why Alterra bought Schweitzer; expansion potential; how Ikon Pass access may evolve at Schweitzer; the Ikon approach to adding new partners; whether the Ikon Base Pass’ value is eroding over time as high-profile partners exit that tier; comparing Epic and Ikon prices; and Alterra’s Impact Report.  

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

Smith pinned his CEO nametag onto his shirt almost exactly one year ago, on Aug. 1, 2022. He’s had a busy year. The Ikon Pass has added five new partners (Alyeska, Sun Peaks, Grandvalira, Panorama, and Lotte Arai). Alterra purchased its first two ski areas since Sugarbush in 2019, scooping up Snow Valley, California in January and Schweitzer – the largest ski area in Idaho – last month. And the company acquired gear-rental outfit Ski Butlers and released its first Impact Report. A setback, too: while Ikon has still never lost a partner, Taos jumped off the Ikon Base Pass for next ski season, making it the seventh resort (along with Sun Valley, Snowbasin, Alta, Deer Valley, Aspen, and Jackson Hole) to exit that product.

Meanwhile, check out the growing price differential between the Ikon and Epic passes over the past several seasons:

After three years of relative parity, Ikon prices blew past Epic when Vail Resorts slashed prices in 2021. So this isn’t news. But what’s interesting is that Alterra has been able to hold that premium price. Vail lobbed its discount hand grenade three weeks after Alterra had locked in 2021-22 Ikon Pass prices. Rather than follow Vail into the basement, Alterra raised prices again in 2022. And again in 2023. Stunning as those early-bird differentials are, the gap is even more pronounced now: the current sticker price of a 2023-24 Ikon Pass is $1,259, a 36 percent premium over Epic’s $929 pricetag. Ikon Base currently runs $929, which is 35 percent more than the $689 Epic Local Pass.

So what? A Porsche costs more than a Ford. But when did the Ikon Pass become skiing’s luxe label? For years, no one had an answer for Vail. Now it’s hard to imagine how the Epic Pass will ever catch up to Ikon. Since 2020, Ikon has added Alyeska, Mt. Bachelor, Windham, Snow Valley, Schweitzer, Panorama, Sun Peaks, Chamonix, Dolomiti Superski, Kitzbühel, Lotte Arai, Sun Valley, and Snowbasin to its roster. Vail has added three ski areas in Pennsylvania and two (really one) in Switzerland, while losing Sun Valley and Snowbasin to Ikon. The Broomfield Bully, which spent the 2010s gobbling up everything from Whistler to Park City to half the Midwest and New England, suddenly looks inert beside its flashy young competitor.

For now. Don’t expect the dragon to sleep much longer. Vail – or, more accurately, the company’s investors – will need to feast again soon (and I’ll note that Vail has invested enormous sums into technology, infrastructure, and personnel upgrades over the past 16 months). Which is why Smith’s job is so enormous. It won’t be enough to simply keep Alterra and the Ikon Pass relevant. They must be transformative. Yes, that means things like terrain expansions and $50 million gondolas and new tickboxes on the Ikon Pass. But it also means the further melding of the physical and the digital, a new-skier experience that does not feel like Alaskan bootcamp, and more creativity in pricing than a $5 season pass purchased seven years in advance and a $4,500 day-of lift ticket.

It's 2023. The Pet Rectangle has eaten the world. Any industry that hasn’t gotten there already is going to die pretty soon. Skiing is sort of there and it’s sort of not. Smith’s job is to make sure Alterra makes it all the way in, and to bring us along for the run.

Questions I wish I’d asked

So many. The most obvious being about the recent death of 50-year-old Sheldon Johnson, who fell out of a Tremblant gondola after it struck a drilling rig and split open. The photos are insane – it looks as though the car was sliced right in half. My minivan goes apeshit with sensors and auto-brakes if I’m about to back into a fence – why does a gondola, with all the technology we have, keep moving full speed into a gigantic piece of construction equipment?

I also wanted to check in on Crystal’s decision to jump off the Ikon Pass as its season pass, get an update on the new lifts going in at Alterra’s resorts this summer, and ask when Deer Valley was going to get rid of that icky snowboard ban.

Podcast Notes

On the sudden passing of Aspen managing partner Jim Crown

Per the Aspen Times:

Billionaire philanthropist Jim Crown was driving a single-seat, open-top Spec Racer with a 165-horsepower engine on June 25 in Woody Creek when it struck a tire barricade backed by a concrete wall that was surrounding a gravel trap.

His son-in-law, Matthew McKinney, drove the Spec Racer a few hours before Crown drove it that day. McKinney remembered the car handled normally, although the brakes “were somewhat stiff, and the brake pedal had to be pressed somewhat firmly.”

Aspen Motorsports Park staff told McKinney the brakes were new.

These are some of the findings in the Pitkin County sheriff’s report, released on Thursday, investigating Crown’s death at the 50-acre park last month.

A beloved Aspen and Chicago resident, he was not a racetrack rookie. The managing partner of Aspen Skiing Co. and adviser to former President Barack Obama, he enjoyed the Aspen tracks and once owned a Ferrari. He celebrated his June 25 birthday with family at the park.

Around 2:20 p.m., deputies were alerted to a crash at the park’s eighth corner wall. Dispatchers relayed that the 70-year-old driver was conscious, breathing but bleeding badly from head injuries. And his pulse was weak.

McKinney and his wife told the officer in charge, Bruce Benjamin, that they never heard brakes screeching before the crash. (Benjamin noted skid marks near the crash). Crown’s car hit the tire barricade “with such force, that it came off the ground a few feet.”

Sheriff’s deputies, Aspen Ambulance, and Aspen Fire Protection District first responders cared for Crown at the crash site. The report says they took turns giving him CPR chest compressions, but they were unable to save him. Crown was pronounced dead, with daughters Hayley and Victoria nearby.

On why Aspen is not part of Alterra

Smith and I discussed Aspen’s decision to remain independent, rather than become part of Alterra, of which it is part owner. Former Aspen CEO Mike Kaplan told the full story on this podcast two years ago (49:28):

On acquisitions

Here are my full write-ups on Alterra’s purchase of Snow Valley and Schweitzer.

On the evolution of the Ikon Base Pass

There’s little question that the Ikon Base Pass was underpriced when it hit the market at $599 in 2018. As the pass gained momentum, flooding some of the coalition’s biggest names, resorts began excusing themselves from the cheapest version of Ikon. While the coalition has added more partners since inception than it has lost from the Base Pass, losing marquee names like Aspen, Jackson Hole, and Alta contributes to a sense that the pass’ value is eroding over time, even as the price continues to climb (the Ikon Base Pass is currently on sale for $929). Here’s a look at how Ikon Pass access has evolved since 2018:

On Snow Valley’s ghost lift fleet

Snow Valley may be home to the most abandoned lifts of any operating ski area in the country. A Snow Valley representative confirmed for me earlier this year that lifts 2 and 8 have not run in at least five years, yet they remain on the trailmap today:

Even more amazing, when I skied there in March, lifts 4 and 5 are still intact. Lift 5 hasn’t been on the trailmap for 20 years!

I also referenced a long-cancelled proposal to expand Snow Valley – here’s where it sits on old trailmaps (looker’s right):

On Schweitzer’s masterplan

Smith alludes to Schweitzer’s masterplan. Here’s a look:

And here, for reference, is the resort today (this map does not include the Creekside lift, which is replacing Musical Chairs this offseason):

On Alterra’s 2023 lift upgrades

Alterra is at work on six new lifts this offseason:

* The biggest of those projects is at Steamboat, where phase two of the Wild Blue Gondola will transport skiers from the base area directly to the top of Sunshine Peak. This 3.16-mile-long, 10-passenger gondola will be the longest in North America.

* Even more exciting for skiers: the Mahogany Ridge high-speed quad will open an additional 650 acres of terrain looker’s left of Pony Express, transforming Steamboat into the second-largest ski area in Colorado:

* Mammoth will upgrade Canyon Express (Lift 16) from a high-speed quad to a high-speed six-pack:

* Winter Park will upgrade Pioneer from a high-speed quad to a high-speed six-pack with a mid-station:

* Solitude will upgrade Eagle Express from a high-speed quad to a high-speed six-pack:

* Snowshoe will replace the Powder Monkey triple with a fixed-grip quad:

On Smith leaving Ticketmaster

I referenced a Q&A that Smith did with Pollstar in 2020. You can read that here.

On Alterra’s Impact Report

Smith and I discuss Alterra’s first Impact Report. You can read it here.

More Alterra on The Storm Skiing Podcast

Former Alterra CEO Rusty Gregory appeared on the podcast three times, in 2020, 2021, and 2022. I’ve also hosted the leaders of several of Alterra’s ski areas:

* Palisades Tahoe President and COO Dee Byrne – May 4, 2023

* Deer Valley President & COO Todd Bennett – April 20, 2023

* Solitude President & COO Amber Broadaway – March 5, 2022

* Steamboat President & COO Rob Perlman – Dec. 9, 2021

* Crystal Mountain President & CEO Frank DeBerry – Oct. 22, 2021

* Sugarbush President & GM John Hammond – Nov. 2, 2020

* Sugarbush President & COO Win Smith – Jan. 30, 2020

I’ve also hosted the leaders of many Ikon Pass partner mountains and related entities, including:

* Valle Nevado GM Ricardo Margulis – July 19, 2023

* Sun Peaks GM Darcy Alexander – June 13, 2023

* SkiBig3 President Pete Woods – May 26, 2023

* Snowbasin VP & GM Davy Ratchford – Feb. 1, 2023

* Aspenware CEO Rob Clark (Alterra purchased Aspenware in 2022) – Dec. 29, 2023

* Loon Mountain President & GM Brian Norton – Nov. 14, 2022

* Boyne Resorts CEO Stephen Kircher – Nov. 21, 2022

* Sun Valley VP & GM Pete Sonntag – Oct. 20, 2022

* The Summit at Snoqualmie GM Guy Lawrence – April 20, 2022

* Arapahoe Basin COO Alan Henceroth – April 14, 2022

* Big Sky President & COO Taylor Middleton – April 6, 2022

* The Highlands President & GM Mike Chumbler – Feb. 18, 2022

* Jackson Hole President Mary Kate Buckley – Nov. 17, 2021

* Boyne Mountain GM Ed Grice – Oct. 19, 2021

* Mt. Buller GM Laurie Blampied – Oct. 12, 2021

* Aspen Skiing Company CEO Mike Kaplan – Oct. 1, 2021

* Taos CEO David Norden – Sept. 16, 2021

* Sunday River GM Brian Heon – Feb. 10, 2021

* Windham President Chip Seamans – Jan. 31, 2021

* Sugarloaf GM Karl Strand – Part 1, Sept. 25, 2020

* Sugarloaf GM Karl Strand – Part 2, Sept. 30, 2020

* Boyne Resorts CEO Stephen Kircher – April 1, 2020

* Sunday River President & GM Dana Bullen – Feb. 14, 2020

* Loon Mountain President & GM Jay Scambio – Feb. 7, 2020

* Boyne Resorts CEO Stephen Kircher – Nov. 21, 2019

* Killington & Pico President & GM Mike Solimano – Oct. 13, 2019

You can view all archived and scheduled podcasts here.

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 63/100 in 2023, and number 449 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

This podcast hit paid subscribers’ inboxes on August 1. It dropped for free subscribers on August 4. To receive future pods as soon as they’re live, and to support independent ski journalism, please consider an upgrade to a paid subscription. You can also subscribe for free below:

Who

Jim Rochford Jr., Owner and General Manager of Trollhaugen, Wisconsin

Recorded on

July 10, 2023

About Trollhaugen

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: The Rochford family

Located in: Dresser, Wisconsin

Year founded: 1950

Pass affiliations: Indy Pass – 2 days

Reciprocal partners: None

Closest neighboring ski areas: Wild Mountain (18 minutes), Como Park (1 hour), Afton Alps (1 hour, 3 minutes), Elm Creek (1 hour, 3 minutes), Hyland Hills (1 hour, 18 minutes), Buck Hill (1 hour, 22 minutes), Welch Village (1 hour, 33 minutes), Christie Mountain (1 hour, 24 minutes), Powder Ridge (1 hour 54 minutes), Coffee Mill (1 hour, 56 minutes)

Base elevation: 920 feet

Summit elevation: 1,200 feet

Vertical drop: 280 feet

Skiable Acres: 90 (2023 expansion will increase this total)

Average annual snowfall: 50 inches

Trail count: 24 (28% advanced, 43% intermediate, 29% beginner)

Lift count: 9 (4 fixed-grip quads, 5 ropetows – lift count includes new Partek fixed-grip Chair 1 that Trollhaugen is installing this summer – view Lift Blog’s inventory of Trollhaugen’s lift fleet)

Why I interviewed him

What if the greatest ski town in America is not Aspen or Telluride or Park City or Jackson, but Minneapolis? Within an hour of downtown, eight ski areas: Elm Creek, Como Park, Hyland Hills, Buck Hill, Afton Alps, Welch Village, Wild Mountain, and Trollhaugen. Not one of them tops 360 vertical feet or collects more than 60 inches of snow in an average season.

Underwhelming stats that underscore the point: only the hardcore would swarm such bumps, endure the windblown cloud-cluttered upper Midwest dead-winter, in pursuit of the turn, the loft, the float, that singular moment of ski-high. There’s a reason Vail’s first stop on its march east was Minneapolis – this is a ski town (and one you can actually afford to live in).

Midwest skiing is a bizarre world for the uninitiated. Chairlifts everywhere, often side-by-side, trolling up clear-cut hillsides seemingly conjured from the flats. Between these chairs, high-speed ropetows, hauling more skiers than you’d thought possible, faster than you can believe. You assume the ski areas are small, but they just keep going, rolling hillock after hillock over vast snowy complexes. At Afton, 17 Hall chairlifts ordered in industrial rows, threading a chutes-and-ladders labyrinth of gullies and tunnels and wide-open faces. At Welch, a mini-Vail Mountain, endless linked trailpods terminating at the Back Bowl, a spiderweb of burners diving through the trees. At Buck, every inch reserved, the place a vast school for racers, for bumpers, for flippity-flap flip-flap Brahs.

Trollhaugen is a little bit of all of these things: four quads and five ropetows serving a hunk of Wisconsin countryside that feels bigger than 260 vertical feet on 100-ish acres. The Rochford family – which has owned the bump since the ‘60s – has resisted the urge to clear-cut, instead carving tree-lined tracks through the gullies. Wide-open faces aplenty, still, and zones for ropetow rockers fast and slow. The base area is themed Euro-Alpine, Bavarian perhaps, or Scandinavian.

Don’t let the Midwestern kitsch, wicket tickets, Rube Goldberg beginner tows, or pair of vintage ‘70s Borvig quads distract you: this is a terrific, and modern, ski area. The grooming is excellent. Snowmaking and night-skiing cover 100 percent of the hills. Trollhaugen erected a brand-new Partek quad two years ago, and it’s installing another this summer. It was an inaugural Indy Pass partner, hyper-aware of the rapidly evolving lift-served skiing landscape and its competitive place within it. When you have seven direct competitors, one of which belongs to the Epic Pass, excellence is your only option. Trollhaugen delivers.

What we talked about

The Covid outdoor surge just keeps on surging; limiting lift tickets; how different Covid-era policies impacted ski areas near the Wisconsin-Minnesota border; Wild Mountain; Trollhaugen’s tradition of early-season openings; why Trollhaugen closed April 1 after a 10-inch snowstorm; post-closing railjams; what happened when Vail Resorts bought nearby Afton Alps; whether the Epic Pass’ arrival contributed to Trollhaugen’s decision to join the Indy Pass; how Indy visitation has evolved over time; three generations of family ownership; remembering an era in which a mailman and a firefighter could start a ski area; the non-skiing dentists who bought a ski area to party; a brief history of Trollhaugen’s lifts; growing up with a ski area as your backyard; the surprisingly circuitous route that Rochford took to eventually run the family business; respecting the family legacy while building upon it; going deep on Trollhaugen’s expansion; glade skiing at Trollhaugen; why the conceptual expansion map shows a triple chair but we’re getting a quad; the quiet brilliance of Partek chairlifts; stepping up to automated snowmaking; how the expansion may change the annual terrain-opening plan; connecting the expansion to the ski area proper; parking expansions; the story behind the parking lot sign equipped with old double chairs; Welch Village; ropetows versus carpets; the fate of the Summit ropetow; high-speed ropetows rule; a fenced ski area; 3 a.m. Fridays; and behind the Trollhaugen name and theme.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview  

Trollhaugen is the only one of the eight metro Minneapolis-St. Paul ski areas that sits in Wisconsin. It’s four miles east of the state line, and 18 minutes from Wild. Usually, that doesn’t matter. U.S. state borders, practically speaking, are mostly roadside signs. No checkpoints or paperwork. Perhaps a speed-limit adjustment. Perhaps a slight state-of-mind shift.

But during Covid, that address mattered. Wisconsin, for the most part, introduced less stringent Covid safety measures than its neighbor, and relaxed them faster. No need to itemize them here: the net impact was a clanging cash register for Trollhaugen. Record numbers of skiers dumped record revenues into the joint. And, as Rochford tells me on the podcast, “if the skiers are going to invest in us, then we’re going to invest in them.”

So Trollhaugen ripped out a 52-year-old Hall double chair and stood up a brand-new Partek quad in 2021. That was phase one of a three-year capital project and expansion that is set to open this coming winter, with three-and-a-half new trails and yet another new Partek quad.

It’s hard to overstate how big of a deal this is for a small Midwestern ski area. Skiers acclimated to New England or the Rockies would be stunned at the condition of the average lift fleet in Michigan, Wisconsin, or Minnesota. Lots of Riblets. Lots of Halls. Very few detachables. Very few safety bars. It’s vintage skiing, often quite good – snowmaking tends to be excellent – but unadorned by the trappings of big-time resorts in other regions. In this neighborhood, two new lifts in three years is an enormous flex.

Trollhaugen is not the only family-owned Midwest ski area investing this year. Buck Hill, Wild Mountain, Nub’s Nob, and Perfect North are also erecting new quads this summer. And the big Midwestern operators have fully activated their cash cannons: Boyne is dropping a D-line sixer onto The Highlands and a fixed quad and triple at Boyne Mountain; Midwest Family Ski Resorts is building six-packs at Snowriver and Lutsen; and Wisconsin Resorts is adding a second high-speed quad to Mt. Holly and a triple to Alpine Valley, Michigan. But Trollhaugen’s new lift will serve the region’s only terrain expansion for the 2023-24 ski season. That’s a really big deal, and worth taking a deeper look at.

What I got wrong

* I said in the intro that Trollhaugen had been the first ski area to open in America for the 2022-23 ski season. It was actually the first to open a chairlift, on Oct. 19. Wild Mountain and Andes Tower Hills, both in Minnesota, opened ropetows on Oct. 18.

* I intimated that Loveland was in Summit County, Colorado, along with Keystone and Arapahoe Basin. Loveland actually sits just across the border, in Clear Creek County. Breckenridge and Copper Mountain also sit in Summit County.

* I said that Welch Village “must have had a dozen chairlifts.” It has eight.

* I said that Trollhaugen had a “Bavarian” theme, but the backstory that Rochford told us suggests that the ornate buildings clustered at the ski area’s base are better classified as “Scandinavian.”

Why you should ski Trollhaugen

There’s something about Midwest skiing that is extremely gratifying. Even for those who have other options. Remember that 2000 movie, The Family Man, where a rich a-hole played by Nick Cage is shoved into an alternate timeline where he’s stripped of his Ferrari and closetful of $10,000 suits and self-important Wall Street job? And suddenly he’s living in suburban New Jersey as a tire salesman who drives two kids around in a minivan. And at first he’s like, “Oh boy this sucks a fat one.” But by the end of the film he’s b******g about the price of a bag of rock salt and relishing domestic life in his messy falling-apart house in Maplewood or wherever.

Midwest skiing is kind of like that. If you’re accustomed to RFID and superfast lifts and 3,000-acre playgrounds stuffed with chutes and glades and 15-foot bases of natural snow, you may be unable to imagine skiing unadorned with those jewels. But what if you forced yourself to? What if you pulled up to a Midwest bump on a jam-packed Saturday and skied just for the sake of doing it? Surrounded by thousands of skiers who didn’t seem to give a damn that the chairlifts didn’t have heated toilets or Netflix-equipped safety bars? Who act like they’re at the best party ever? Who seem as giddy as any skiers you’ve ever seen anywhere?

It's odd that the people who seem most insecure about Midwest ski areas are those who’ve never been within 50 miles of one. I see this every time I write a post about the Midwest – the hate, the impulse to belittle a thing that so many people love. It’s all so stupid and tedious, so boring. Midwest skiing is about relishing what’s there, not bemoaning what isn’t. Yes, it’s a different sort of skiing than you get in the Rockies or New England. But it’s fun. An often-overcomplicated thing boiled down to its essence.

If you love skiing, you will love skiing at Trollhaugen. Yes, it demands a certain creativity to stay engaged, to draw new lines out of the hillside, to sink into the moment between frequent chairlift rides. But, just as a minivan gets you to the same place as a Ferrari, this stripped-down version of skiing can get you exactly where you need to go. If you let it.

Podcast Notes

On the view from Spirit Mountain

The view from the summit of Spirit Mountain, overlooking the St. Louis River just before it drains into Lake Superior. At the base of the lifts (Spirit is an upside-down ski area), the mountain is only about a half mile from the Wisconsin border.

On Wisconsin’s lost ski areas

Rochford’s grandparents purchased Trollhaugen in the 1960s. During the podcast, he commented that “of the ski areas we had in Wisconsin in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s, I bet half of those are open today.” It’s hard to get exact numbers on what may or may not have existed 50-plus years ago, but I did dig up these old maps from the Wisconsin Lost Ski Areas Project:

1967

1971

For context, here’s a complete list of active Wisconsin ski areas. In some cases, ski areas have changed their names: Rib Mountain is now Granite Peak, for example. I’d love to do a side-by-side here, but that would be a project I just don’t have time for at the moment:

On other ski area expansions happening this summer

Trollhaugen’s expansion is one of seven happening at U.S. ski areas this summer. Here’s an overview:

On Trollhaugen’s parking lot chairlift

We briefly discuss the cool chairlift structure (which I referred to as a “sign”) at Trollhaugen’s entrance. Here it is:

On Trollhaugen’s ropetows

Trollhaugen has two types of ropetows – these whacky Rube Goldberg contraptions in the beginner area that look like they’re about 175 years old:

And these burners for the Park Brahs:

On the border fence

Trollhaugen, like the vast majority of Midwest ski areas, still trades in metal wicket tickets. But rather than station an attendant at the bottom of each lift, the ski area fences off the base area, leaving just one access point to the lifts. One attendant checks the ticket one time – a pretty brilliant (and inexpensive), fraud-prevention system:

On the spring skiing surcharge

Many ski areas use free spring skiing as an incentive for new passholders. Buy your 2023-24 season pass in February 2023 and ski the rest of the 2022-23 season for free. But many ski areas in Minnesota and Wisconsin charge for the spring skiing option. Trollhaugen is one of them, charging new 2023-24 passholders $75 for spring 2023 access if they wanted spring skiing. Not a bad deal, actually, as that’s probably not much more than the cost of a weekend lift ticket. Here are the other ski areas in the region that charge new passholders for spring access:

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 66/100 in 2023, and number 452 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

This podcast hit paid subscribers’ inboxes on August 7. It dropped for free subscribers on August 10. To receive future pods as soon as they’re live, and to support independent ski journalism, please consider an upgrade to a paid subscription. You can also subscribe for free below:

Who

Danielle and Laszlo Vajtay, Owners of Plattekill Mountain, New York

Recorded on

July 14, 2023

About Plattekill Mountain

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Danielle and Laszlo Vajtay

Located in: Roxbury, New York

Year founded: 1958

Pass affiliations: None

Reciprocal partners:

* 3 days each at Snow Ridge, Swain, Mont du Lac, Ski Cooper

* 2 days at Homewood

Closest neighboring ski areas: Belleayre (28 minutes), Windham (41 minutes), Hunter (46 minutes)

Base elevation: 2,400 feet

Summit elevation: 3,500 feet

Vertical drop: 1,100 feet

Skiable Acres: 75 acres

Average annual snowfall: 175 inches

Trail count: 40 (20% expert, 20% most difficult, 40% more difficult, 20% easiest)

Lift count: 3 (1 triple, 1 double, 1 carpet)

Why I interviewed them

Think about every ski area in the country that almost everyone knows. Almost every one of them has a smaller, less-well-known, slightly badass neighbor lurking nearby. In LA, it’s Baldy, forgotten in the shadow of Big Bear and Mountain High. In Tahoe, it’s Homewood, lost in the Palisades Tahoe circus. We can just keep going: Hoodoo/Bachelor; White Pass/Crystal; Mt. Spokane/Schweitzer; Soldier/Sun Valley; Snow King/Jackson; Sunlight/Aspen; Red River/Taos.

In New York, we have a few versions of this: West and (currently closed) Hickory, adjacent to Gore Mountain; Titus, intercepted by Whiteface as cars wind north. But the most dramatic contrast lies in the Catskills. There, you find four ski areas: Hunter, recently expanded, owned by Vail Resorts and flying two six-packs; Windham, two new investors on its masthead, an Ikon Pass partner that runs three high-speed lifts out of its base; Belleayre, owned by the state and run by the Olympic Regional Development Authority, or ORDA, with a shimmering gondola that no other ski area of its size could afford; and Plattekill.

Plattekill is owned by Laszlo and Danielle Vajtay, former ski instructors who purchased the bump in 1993. They have added snowmaking to one of their 40 trails each year that they could afford to. Their lift fleet is a 1974 Hall triple and a 1977 Hall double, moved from Belleayre in 1999. It took the Vajtays three years to install the lift. The parking lots cling layer-cake-style to the mountainside. Plattekill is open Friday through Sunday, plus Christmas and Presidents’ Weeks and MLK Day. Access is down poorly marked backroads, half an hour past Belleayre, which sits directly off state route 28.

It’s fair to ask how such a place endures. New York is filled with family-owned ski areas running vintage lifts. But only Plattekill must compete directly with so many monsters. How?

There is no one answer. There’s the scrap and hustle, the constant scouring of the countryside for the new-to-Platty machines to rebuild to glory. There’s the deliberate, no-debt, steady-steady better-better philosophy that keeps the banks away. There’s the 1,100 feet of pure fall-line skiing. The vast kingdom of glades. The special geography that seems to squeeze just a bit extra out of every storm. There’s the lodge, rustic but clean, cozy, and spacious. And there’s the liftlines, or miraculous lack of them, for such a ski area just three hours from the nation’s largest city. And there are the midweek private-mountain rentals – Platty’s secret weapon, a $8,500 guarantee on even the feistiest weather days.

That algorithm, or some version of it, has equaled survival for Plattekill. When the Vajtays bought “Ski Plattekill” in 1993, the Catskills were crowded. But Bobcat, Scotch Valley, Cortina, Highmount, and Sawkill all vanished over the decades. Plattekill could have died too. Instead, it is beloved. Enough so that it can charge more for its season pass - $779 early-bird, $799 right now – than Vail charges for the Epic Local Pass ($676 early-bird, $689 today), which includes unlimited access to Hunter and most of the company’s 40 other resorts. When a harder-to-reach, smaller mountain running 50-year-old lifts can charge more for a single-mountain season pass than its larger, more up-to-date, easier-to-access neighbor whose season pass also gets skiers in the front door at Whistler and Breckenridge, it’s doing something mighty right.

What we talked about

Plattekill’s “surprisingly good” 2022-23 ski season; building a snowmaking system gun-by-gun; 2023 offseason improvements; how the Vajtays have grown Plattekill without taking on traditional debt; what killed independent skiing in the Catskills; private mid-week mountain rentals; a growing wedding business; why Plattekill was an early adopter of lift-served mountain-biking, why the mountain abandoned the project, and whether they would ever bring it back; assessing Platty’s newest trail; potential terrain expansion within the existing footprint; plans to moderate the steep section at the end of the Overlook trail; the potential lift and terrain expansion that could make Plattekill “a big, big player in the world of ski areas”; considering outside investment to turbocharge growth - “the possibilities for the mountain are that it could be a lot more”; “I don’t have an interest in selling Plattekill”; Snow Operating; assessing Plattekill’s Hall chairlifts; “anybody taking out a lift, please don’t cut it up and throw it in the Dumpster before contacting” small ski areas; the lightning strike that changed Plattekill’s summer; helping save Holiday Mountain; competing against the Epic and Ikon passes; competing against state-owned and taxpayer-funded ski areas; how New York State could help independent ski areas compete against its owned ski areas; Liftopia’s collapse; the Ski Cooper season pass; and reconsidering the Indy Pass.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

The Vajtays have appeared on The Storm Skiing Podcast before, in episode two, which I released on Oct. 25, 2019. They’d agreed to do the interview without knowing who I was, and before I’d published a single episode. I will always be grateful to them (and the other seven folks* who recorded an episode when The Storm was still gathering in my brain), for that. The conversation turned out great, I thought, and fused the podcast to the world of scrappy independents from its earliest days.

But in the intervening years, I’ve gotten to know the Vajtays much better. Laz and I, especially, communicate a lot. Mostly via text, but occasionally email, or when I’m up there skiing. In May, he joined a panel I hosted at the National Ski Areas Association (NSAA) convention in Savannah, Georgia. Alongside the general managers of Mt. Rose, Mt. Baker, and Cascade, Wisconsin, Laz articulated why the Vajtays had so far elected to keep Plattekill off of any multi-mountain pass.

The NSAA’s convention rules forbade me from recording that panel, but the conversation so closely aligned with my daily pass-world coverage that I knew I had to bring some version of it to you. This is installment one. Cascade GM Matt Vohs is scheduled to join me on the pod in October, followed by Mt. Rose GM Greg Gavrilets in November (you can always view the upcoming podcast schedule here). I’ve yet to schedule Mt. Baker CEO Gwyn Howat, but I’m hopeful that we can lock in a future date.

So that is part of it: why has Plattekill held firm against the pass craze as all of its better-capitalized competitors have joined one coalition or the other? But that is only part of the larger Platty story. Vail was supposed to ruin everything. Then Alterra was supposed to ruin it more. Family-owned ski areas would be crushed beneath these nukes launched from a Colorado silo. But this narrative has been disproven across the country. Because of a lot of things – the Covid-driven outdoor boom, the indie cool factor, the big boys overselling their passes – small ski areas are having a moment. No one, arguably, has a tougher hill to defend than Platty, and no one’s proven themselves more.

*Those six people were: New England Lost Ski Areas Project founder Jeremy Davis, Lift Blog founder Peter Landsman, Boyne Resorts CEO Stephen Kircher, Magic Mountain President Geoff Hatheway, Killington President Mike Solimano, and Burke GM Kevin Mack.

What I got wrong

I said that The New York Times profile on Plattekill’s private-rentals business ran in 2018. It actually ran Jan. 4, 2019.

Why you should ski Plattekill

I can endorse all four large Catskills ski areas. Hunter holds a crazy, possessed energy. Impenetrable on weekends, you can roll 1,600-vertical-foot fastlaps off the sixer on spring weekdays. Belleayre throws past-era vibes with its funky-weird trail network while delivering rides on a top-to-bottom gondola that is the nicest lift in New York State. Windham’s high-speed lift fleet hides a narrow and fantastically interesting trail network that, when wide open with new snow in the woods, feels enormous.

So Plattekill is not, for me, a family-diner-versus-McDonald’s kind of fight. I probably ski all four of those mountains about the same amount. But I will make an appeal here to those New York-based Epic and Ikon passholders who are scanning their mountain menus and deciding where to ski this winter: take one day and go to Plattekill. Make it a day that you know will be miserable at Hunter or Windham. A day when the lift queues can be seen from space. A holiday, a Saturday, a powder day. I know you already invested in your pass. But suck up one more lift ticket, and check out Plattekill.

Here’s what you will find: no liftlines, ever. The parking lots simply aren’t large enough to accommodate enough skiers to form them. A double chair with this view:

At the top, three choices: loop green-circle Overlook all the way around, thread your way down through the tight and narrow blues, or ride one of four double-blacks all the way back to the valley. I prefer the blues because they lead to the glades, unmarked but maintained, funky, interesting, tap-shoes required.

The triple side is more traditional, more wide runs, especially Upper Face. Powder Puff is fabulous for kids. The snow doesn’t stick to the triple side like it does to the double side, but when it’s deep enough, wild lines through the trees lie everywhere.

Plattekill is littered with curiosities. A rock quarry. An old T-bar terminal. An overgrown halfpipe in the trees. Abandoned MTB trails still signed and useable for skiing. More than any ski area in New York, Plattekill rewards exploration and creativity, enables and encourages it with a permissive Patrol and line-less lifts. Twenty or 25 runs are possible here, even on a big day. Just keep ripping.

In some ways, Plattekill is a time machine, a snapshot of a Catskills otherwise lost. In others, it is exactly of this moment, stripped of the pretense and the crowds that can seem like skiing’s inevitable trajectory. The bozos who can’t stand a fixed-grip lift ride longer than three minutes don’t come here. They would rather stand in a long line for a fast lift. But you don’t have to. You can come to Plattekill.

Podcast Notes

On Platty’s singular atmosphere

No one has written more on Plattekill than Harvey Road, founder of the fantastic New York Ski Blog. I asked him to share links to his five favorite Platty write-ups:

Return to Plattekill Mountain – Jan. 8, 2013

“Those intangible forces pull me inexorably to Plattekill. Don’t get me wrong, Plattekill has some solid tangibles too: lake effect powder and steeps and trees and beautiful views are important to people who love to ski.  But there’s also something more. A simplicity of purpose that fills my soul with an exuberance I have a hard time capturing in my nine-to-five life.”

Plattekill: The Life of Riley – March 5, 2018

“Later in the morning the snow and the wind really picked up. It must have snowed two or three inches an hour well into the afternoon. By noon all traces of the bottom were gone and Plattekill was 100% open for business. Twist and Ridge were deserted and any tracks you left on that side of the mountain were gone by the time you returned.”

I’m Done Skiing Alone – March 20, 2018

“When I was a little kid living on a farm, I’d play by myself in a big tractor tire that served as a sandbox. I developed a reputation for playing alone. ‘Harvey doesn’t need playmates, he’s happy all by himself!’ It wasn’t true, down inside I didn’t like it, but I didn’t know myself well enough to push back.”

Chasing Plake – Feb. 4, 2019

“Around 10:00 am we headed into the lodge to give our legs a break, hydrate and warm up a little (it was maybe -1 F at this point). As we got to the door, we saw the man himself. ‘I was wondering when you’d show up.’

“’Hi, my name is Glen!’ he said, offering his hand. I introduced myself and my son and asked if he’d been skiing yet.

“’No, we kind of take our time on Saturdays. I love to watch a mountain wake up and come alive.’  We chatted about Tahoe and the weather for a couple minutes. I asked if we could take some pics. Of course we could.”

Plattekill: Five Days Later – March 11, 2019

“We skied down to the double and Sam the Smiling Liftie let us step around the rope and head up early with Patrol. At the top, a new character was introduced. Maybe he’d seen my custom skis, as he said ‘Road? I’m Soule. Jeff Soule.’

“I use the word character in it’s broadest sense. Gregarious and engaging, with homemade poles he’d carved from tree branches, Jeff had switched to tele this season and was absolutely ripping, hucking everything in sight.”

On the lost ski areas of the Catskills

When the Vajtays purchased Plattekill in 1993, the mountain was one of six family-owned ski areas in the Catskills. One by one, the other five failed. Here’s an overview of each:

Highmount, circa 1985

Bobcat circa 1996

Cortina, circa 1995

Scotch Valley, circa 2004

I don’t think a trailmap exists of Sawkill, which was basically one or two runs and a ropetow on 70 vertical feet.

On that ominous New York Times article from the ‘90s

Laszlo referred to a New York Times article covering the Vajtays’ disastrous second season as owners – that article ran on Jan. 21, 1995. An excerpt:

A sign posted at the Ski Plattekill resort here warns against packing the cozy, wood-paneled cafeteria beyond its capacity of 242 people. That has hardly been a problem this winter.

With a third of the ski season already over, this resort in the central Catskills has yet to open a single one of its 27 trails. The reason is plain: it has barely snowed this winter, and whatever snow has fallen has been washed away by driving rains and unseasonably warm temperatures. When Laszlo Vajtay, the owner of Ski Plattekill, looks out at his mountain, all he sees is brown grass.

"It is depressing," he said, as he trudged through the mud blanketing his steepest trail, Blockbuster, on this 52-degree afternoon. "Look at how warm it is. It's like summer. Winter's just not here yet."

Mr. Vajtay's experience is the starkest example of what has been a disastrous season for skiers and ski areas across the Northeast. Of the 50 ski areas in New York State, all but nine closed down late this week, hoping to preserve their remaining snow cover for the weekend, according to Ski Areas of New York, a trade group. Things were not much better in New England, where nearly 60 percent of ski resorts reported being closed.

On The New York Times article on private mountain rentals

Plattekill has offered private mountain rentals for 15 years. That part of the business really took off, however, after The New York Times profiled the ski area in 2019:

Plattekill, in turn, has branded itself as an intimate, old-fashioned resort for expert skiers and families alike. Most important, however, it has been able to guarantee income on the slower weekdays, by becoming a private mountain of sorts. Four days a week, it puts itself up for rent. Any group can have exclusive access to it for just a few thousand dollars a day.

In their early years as owners, the Vajtays were obsessed with two things that were not always compatible: making snow and avoiding debt. In the summer, they opened up the mountain for camping, music festivals and mountain biking. They took what they earned and invested it into snow-making equipment.

Eventually, a new business idea came from Plattekill’s regular skiers, who visited the mountain every time it snowed, even when it wasn’t open. (The mountain was and is only open to the public Fridays through Sundays.) This became so common that the Vajtays decided to open the mountain, regardless of the day, following a major snowfall. Typically, about 500 paying customers would show up for the event, called Powderdaize.

Powderdaize led to another idea: renting out the entire mountain to groups. Some Plattekill regulars so enjoyed the quiet setting of the last-minute weekday openings that they intimated to Ms. Vajtay how great it would be to have a “power day” to themselves, she recalled. The couple knew of a few members-only mountains in the United States but these were fancy, expensive resorts like the Yellowstone Club in Montana and the Hermitage Club in Vermont. Why not rent out their humble little mountain?

In 2008, they started to do just that, charging $2,500 a day for exclusive use of Plattekill Monday through Thursday. (The price has since increased to $4,500.) Clients have ranged from corporations, like Citigroup, to religious organizations. Every year since 2010, Jehovah’s Witnesses congregations from New Jersey and New York have met there once a year.

On being “The Alta of The Catskills”

Laz referred to an old Powder article that glossed Plattekill “the Alta of the Catskills.” The author, Porter Fox, also visited Hunter and Belleayre, but here’s the Platty section:

Two lifts rose 1,100 vertical feet from the base of Plattekill Ski Resort to the 3,500-foot summit. Between them were a few lift enclosures—designed to mimic gambrel barn roofs in the valley—an oversized base lodge, dirt parking lots, a dirt driveway, and about 200 skiers lapping trails as fast as they could.

Plattekill is the Alta of the Catskills. The Little Ski Area That Could has fewer trails but gets more snow than most resorts in the range, averaging 150 inches annually. It is easy to forget that New York State borders two Great Lakes (Ontario and Erie), and that lake-effect storms often carry all the way to the Catskills. Sitting on the northwestern fringe of the range, Plattekill rings out most of the moisture before storms warm up and dry out.

The mountain’s 38 trails are only open Friday through Sunday. (You can rent the whole place for $3,500/day midweek.) If it snows 12 inches or more, the staff will get the chairs spinning midweek as well. Last year, “Platty” opened on a Monday after receiving four feet of snow in one dump. It wasn’t a fluke, resort owner Laszlo Vajtay told me as he pulled up National Weather Service radar images of the storm. Precipitation spanned all the way from Manhattan to Albany in the image. The red dot in the center of the maelstrom was positioned precisely over his mountain.

Vajtay, 56, started skiing at Plattekill when he was 7 and never left. He taught skiing, met his wife, Danielle (also an instructor), proposed and got married there. In 1993, he bought the place. The Vajtays didn’t have deep pockets, so when their ancient DMC 3700 groomer broke down, they hired a nearby mechanic, named “Macker,” who learned how to fix it. He fixed all of the groomers on the hill, then refurbished an older model that Vajtay bought for a song. In 2014, Plattekill became the only authorized Bombardier service center in New York and Pennsylvania.

Meanwhile, one of their snowcat clients asked them to work on their snow guns as well. There was no snowmaking at Plattekill when Vajtay bought it; the Platty crew cobbled one together from used guns and pumps they salvaged from old fire trucks. They took the job on and now part of Plattekill’s business is also repairing snow-making equipment and lifts throughout the Northeast. “We run this place like they run farms in the valley—no debt,” Vajtay said. “The one time we had to borrow, we asked our skiers to chip in for a new lift. We paid them back on time, with interest.”

Vajtay’s standard look is one of excitement, or shock. His clear blue eyes are penetrating, and his gray hair is usually messed up by a ski hat or helmet. The “shock” part is real. He is genuinely amazed at how well he and his crew have done with a small ski area in an era when many others have gone belly up. Sixty-five resorts in New York have closed in the last 40 years, according to the New England Lost Ski Areas Project.

In the new world of mega resorts, Plattekill is a time capsule of the way things used to be—steep runs, wild-eyed locals, friendly staff, boot cubbies, $2 frozen pizza slices, and an oversized base lodge bar, where auburn alpenglow settles on the last skiers of the day cruising down. The hand-hewn rafters, deer antler chandeliers, stained pine paneling, antique snowshoes and skis hanging on the wall reel the clock back to the 1980s, ’70s, ’60s —when televisions received three channels, every car had 300 horsepower under the hood, politicians were accountable for their actions, and all anyone in the Northeast wanted to do in the winter was sleep and ski.

Laszlo Vajtay is not just the owner of Plattekill, he grew up skiing there. He and his wife, Danielle, run the ski area like a farm--debt free. They also run it as a family. Above,

It’s easy to fall into that world at Platty. The day we arrived was the Friday before the annual “Beach Party.” The ticket-seller-bartender-receptionist-office-manager-landscaper gal took a break from blowing up balloons and unfolding last year’s tiki decorations to give us tickets before Vajtay took us on a tour of the grounds. Here was the PR-mountain-ops-ticket-sales-manager’s office; there were the ski lockers; there was the cafe and the cabinet-sized ski shop run by George Quinn—who wrote two books about ski history in the Catskills and knows the range better than anyone since Rip Van Winkle. Lastly, Vajtay showed us the main eating hall, where a circular fireplace flickered in the middle of the room, itself an actual invention of the 1960s that now absolutely vibes the place with a ’60s aura.

Out the double picture windows at the northern end of the Blockbuster Lounge was a quiver of double-diamond runs Platty is known for: Blockbuster, Freefall, Plunge, Northface, all of which are pitched straight down. At the top, a long, wooded ridge hems in the resort.

Vajtay had rounded up a scrappy crew of locals who were anxious to go, including Scott Ketchum, a longtime local who moved to Phoenicia the same week that Jimmy Hendrix played at Woodstock a few miles away and grew up skiing Simpson’s rope tow. After a quick introduction, Ketchum offered to show Reddick some leftover powder in the trees while Vajtay and I talked.

Turned out that, at Platty, “leftover powder in the trees” was code for: traverse 45 minutes east across the ridge; find a foot of fresh a week after the last storm; plenty steep and plenty of vertical; bad route-finding at the top; a thicket of trees so dense it became impossible to simply get down; multiple over-the-handlebar moments; broken pole; run-in with an ornery neighbor who had fired a shotgun over someone’s head the week before; a few laughs; and, finally, a smelly pig-pile ride in a pickup truck back to the resort.

On Snow Operating

Laszlo referenced a podcast episode that I recorded with Snow Operating CEO Joe Hession. Listen here.

Laz also talks about Hugh Reynolds, who joined me on a different podcast episode. Listen here.

On the Olympic Regional Development Authority

We talked extensively about the Olympic Regional Development Authority (ORDA), which manages three ski areas owned by New York State: Belleayre (which is right down the road from Plattekill), Gore, and Whiteface. Recent NPR reports detailed the stunning level of taxpayer funding channeled into ORDA’s coffers over the past six years:

Standing in the boardroom of New York's state-run Olympic Regional Development Authority in Lake Placid, CEO Mike Pratt spread out photographs of Olympic sports venues in Beijing, Berlin and Sarajevo that lie abandoned and in ruins.

His message was plain: This almost happened here.

Pratt convinced New York state to bet on a different future, investing huge amounts of taxpayer cash rebuilding and modernizing the sports authority's venues, most dating back to the 1980 Winter Olympics.

"The last six years, the total capital investment in the Olympic authority was $552 million," Pratt said. "These are unprecedented investments in our facilities, no question about it. But the return on investment is immediate."

NPR found New York state has actually pumped far more dollars into the organization since Pratt took the helm, with government documents showing the total outlay closer to $620 million.

You can read more here. It’s an incredible story.

On Ski Cooper’s controversial season pass

I asked Laz and Danielle about Plattekill’s longtime reciprocal partnership with Ski Cooper and where they stand on the controversy around it. I’ve covered that extensively here, here, and here.

On Mount Bohemia’s $99 season pass

I’ve covered this extensively in the past, but my podcast with Boho owner Lonie Glieberman goes into the whole backstory and strategy behind the mega-bargain pass at this ungroomed glade kingdom in Michigan’s remote Upper Peninsula. This year’s season pass sale is set for Nov. 22 to Dec. 2. The $99 pass no longer includes Saturdays – skiers have to level up to the $109 version for that. Bohemia also sells a $172 two-year pass and a $1,299 lifetime pass.

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 67/100 in 2023, and number 453 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

This podcast hit paid subscribers’ inboxes on August 11. It dropped for free subscribers on August 14. To receive future pods as soon as they’re live, and to support independent ski journalism, please consider an upgrade to a paid subscription. You can also subscribe for free below:

Who

Brian Suhadolc, General Manager of Mount Snow, Vermont

Recorded on

July 17, 2023

About Mount Snow

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Vail Resorts

Located in: Dover, Vermont

Year founded: 1954

Pass affiliations:

* Epic Pass and Epic Local Pass: Unlimited access

* Epic Northeast Value Pass: Unlimited access with holiday blackouts

* Epic Northeast Midweek Pass: Unlimited access with weekend and holiday blackouts

Closest neighboring ski areas: Hermitage Club (9 minutes), Stratton (23 minutes), Bromley (36 minutes), Magic Mountain (39 minutes)

Base elevation: 1,900 feet

Summit elevation: 3,600 feet

Vertical drop: 1,700 feet

Skiable Acres: 601

Average annual snowfall: 150 inches

Trail count: 80 (15% advanced/expert, 70% intermediate, 15% beginner)

Lift count: 19 (2 six-packs, 4 high-speed quads, 5 triples, 2 doubles, 1 ropetow, 5 magic carpets – view Lift Blog’s inventory of Mount Snow’s lift fleet)

Why I interviewed him

This is my second podcast focused on Mount Snow. The first episode featured then-GM Tracy Bartels, in November 2020. Our focus then was Covid: as in, what the hell were we going to do about it? The ski industry had spent eight months from the March shutdowns preparing for a masked world of closed ski bars and social distancing. Was this actually going to work?

It did, of course. Sort of. But that podcast from 2020 has little to do with the Mount Snow of 2023, which has evolved substantially in just three years. It was time for an update.

I’m also owning the fact that I overcorrected when I took The Storm national in 2021. In the pod’s first two years, I’d interviewed the heads of most of New England’s largest ski areas. Check, check, check. Done. I needed to establish this thing in the Rockies, the Cascades, the Sierras, the Wasatch. And I did. But a lot of my New England listeners felt snubbed. I’d built this thing on their attention and enthusiasm, and now I was pivoting away.

It’s time to pivot back a bit. The lift-served ski world is changing fast, especially among those giants with access to capital and ambition. So I’ve scheduled upcoming podcast conversations with the leaders of Killington and Sunday River, both of which I’ve profiled in the past. I’ll pursue more such follow-ups in the future, in all regions – and not just with mega-resorts, as the recent second installment with the owners of Plattekill demonstrated. The long-term goal is to alternate podcasts so that every other episode focuses on the West, with the East/Midwest/Mid-Atlantic occupying the alternate slots.

But setting aside my own admin, I’m focusing on Mount Snow because it’s an incredibly important mountain. I’ll reset what I wrote in this same section three years ago:

Because Mount Snow is where big-time Northeast skiing begins. As the southern-most major Vermont ski area, it is a skier’s gateway to mountains that are big enough to get lost on. From its strategic position in the orbit of the East Coast megalopolis, successive owners have gradually built something uniquely suited to the frenetic swarms of wildly varied skiers who bullseye the place each winter: Mount Snow has one of the most outstanding terrain parks in America and one of the best snowmaking systems in the world. The families who swarm here find absolutely unintimidating terrain, blue as the sky and groomed smoother than I-91. It’s a perfect family mountain and a perfect bus skier’s mountain and a perfect first step from Mount Local to something that shows you how big skiing can be. It was the crown jewel of the Peak Resort’s empire, and it’s one of the most important pieces to Vail’s ever-expanding Epic jigsaw puzzle. I wouldn’t call it a special mountain – the terrain is mild and not terribly interesting, and the volume and quality of natural snowfall is best described as adequate. But it is a vital mountain, as the southern-most anchor of Vermont’s teeming ski scene, as an accessible ski experience for weekending cityfolk, as an aspirational destination for people stepping more fully into skiing culture, and as a testament to the power of the imagination to transform a big vertical drop and cold skies into a vital and vibrant node of the regional ski scene.

What we talked about

Surveying damage from the July rainstorm; the Epic Promise Foundation; Mount Snow’s four-foot March snowstorm; the frantic hilarity of New England powder days; the difference between east and west coast pow; breaking down Mount Snow’s lift upgrades at Sundance, Sunbrook, and Heavy Metal; how the Sundance six-pack “changed the dynamic of the ski resort”; why Sundance – unlike the mega-popular Bluebird Express – does not have bubbles; how the resort manages 18 high-speed out-of-base seats; the four most-utilized lifts at Mount Snow; how Mount Snow built the Sunbrook lift in a roadless section of mountain; what it took to convert the Heavy Metal lift from a double to a triple; why Vail auctioned the individual chairs from the old Sunbrook rather than selling the lift – a 1990 CTEC quad – to a smaller ski area; talking through long-term upgrades to Nitro; why the resort doesn’t add more chairs to the current Nitro to boost its capacity from 2,100 skiers per hour to 2,400; the status of paid parking two years in; impressions of New England ski culture; the difference between running a mountain in the east and in the west; what happens when Vail surprise-buys your resort; connecting Park City to The Canyons via gondola – “the magnitude of it was not lost on me”; the mining facilities still scattered across Park City; career opportunity within Vail Resorts; Mount Snow’s monster snowmaking system; why Mount Snow has become Vail’s late-season New England operator, rather than Wildcat; why Carinthia is the mountain’s late-operating pod; whether we could ever see another October opening at Mount Snow; potential upgrades for the North Face lifts; assessing the Beartrap double; contemplating the future of Grand Summit; whether we could ever see a detach lift on beginner terrain at Mount Snow; whether the Epic Local Pass is the correct unlimited-access pass for Mount Snow; the popularity of Northeast-specific Epic Passes; the Epic Day Pass; and Vail Resorts’ day-ticket limits for the 2022-23 ski season.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

Ever since Peak Resorts built the Bluebird Express six-pack in 2011, Mount Snow has had a problem: the lift, with its blue bubbles and ultra-smooth ride, was so flashy and appealing that nobody wanted to ride any other lift on the front side of the mountain. Even the Grand Summit high-speed quad, which runs parallel to Bluebird and serves all the same terrain, had trouble getting attention. This was great for skiers who actively work the mountain, but a real drag for Mount Snow’s rap as the most-crowded Southern Vermont ski area.

Enter: Vail Resorts’ Epic Lift Upgrades of 2022. Mount Snow was the beneficiary of two of the 21 planned lifts (18 of which Vail finished on schedule*): the Sundance and Tumbleweed triples made way for a new six-pack, while the backside Sunbrook lift got a boost from a fixed-grip quad to a detach. Meanwhile, the mountain converted the Heavy Metal double into a triple chair, adding capacity to the popular Carinthia terrain park.

Sundance and Sunbrook had one job: give people a reason to ski something besides Bluebird. As far as replacement lifts go, they seemed brilliant. But did the plan work to unknot Mount Snow’s gnarliest crowd points?

That was one topic Suhadolc and I discussed. Another: was Vail able to recover from its arguably oversold 2021-22 ski season by implementing day-ticket limits and settling into paid-parking plans? And how were those paid parking plans going? And should Mount Snow really be unlimited on the Epic Local Pass?

Vail Resorts is entering its fifth winter season operating Mount Snow. With the Peak Resorts transition fully digested and Covid’s hassles a memory, the company has no choice but to fully own every piece of the experience. With its size and proximity to New York City, Mount Snow will always be somewhat hectic. New Englanders can tolerate that. Chaos, however, does not belong in this land of picket-fence order. And for a moment post-Covid, Mount Snow seemed to be tilting toward chaos.

But no one can say that Vail has not brought big change to the mountain over the past several seasons. Despite daily lift tickets that topped out at $154 this past winter, Mount Snow has never been more affordable to the masses. Unlimited access is just $689 on the Epic Local Pass; subtract holidays with the $567 Northeast Value Pass; minus weekends with the $425 Northeast Midweek Pass. With prices that low at a mountain that big that’s as easy to access as Mount Snow is, things could go sideways pretty quick. The new lifts, the parking plans, the lift-ticket limits – all of it is calculated to prevent that from happening.

Ski areas are a little bit like novels. They’re never really finished. But unlike our great works of literature, we get to edit ski areas after they’re published. The version of Mount Snow that we ski today is probably not the best and final version of the hill, but it may also be the best it’s ever been,.

*Two lifts scheduled to rise in Park City were rerouted to Whistler after spiteful locals revolted; Keystone’s Bergman sixer had to wait a year after a construction-road misfire tore up some sensitive high-altitude terrain.

What I got wrong

* I said that the new Sunbrook high-speed quad clocked a ride time around four minutes. The actual time is closer to six minutes, according to Suhadolc.

* I asked Brian why Vail didn’t try to re-use the Sunbrook lift – a 1990 CTEC quad that likely had lots of life left on it – at a “smaller ski area.” He explained that Vail does occasionally move a lift within its portfolio. What I had meant to ask, however, was why didn’t Mount Snow didn’t attempt to sell the lift on the open market to a smaller independent ski area. It’s great that Mount Snow sold the chairs and flipped the money to the Epic Promise Foundation, which assists their employees in times of outstanding need, such as the floods that just smashed Okemo. But the company could likely have made more for Epic Promise by selling the entire lift to an independent ski area, many of which are desperate for a modern quad in good working condition.

* I said that Vail Resorts purchased Park City Mountain Resort “in 2014 or 2015.” The company bought the resort in 2014, a year after it bought Canyons (which is now part of Park City).

* I said the Outpost lift turned 60 this year. Lift Blog, my go-to source for pretty much all things lifts, lists the lift as a 1963 Yan triple. Brian said that it is a 1988 CTEC triple. New England Ski History agrees with Brian. This is not a crack on Lift Blog, which is an excellent resource, so much as on me for not double-checking my references - in fact, I think Tracy Bartels corrected me on the exact same factoid three years ago.

* I said that the Northeast Midweek Epic Pass was “less than $400.” This is incorrect. The pass currently costs $425. The early-bird price for the 2023-24 ski season was $416.

* When I was running through the various resorts that the Northeast-specific Epic Passes accessed, I left out Mt. Brighton, Michigan.

* I noted that Mount Snow had opened in October “once and maybe twice” under Peak Resorts. The only record I can find of Mount Snow opening that early was on Oct. 27, 2018.

Why you should ski Mount Snow

Mount Snow has two big, obvious constituencies: Park Brah and Family Bro.

The Carinthia peak is a crucial piece of Peak Resorts’ legacy, as important as the Bluebird Express or the tens of millions the company pumped into snowmaking upgrades. Once a separate ski area, the peak is isolated from the mountain proper (though connected both ways by green trails), a thousand vertical feet of straight hits served by a high-speed quad and a triple chair. Park Brahs can park out, Brah. Along with Seven Brothers at Loon, it may be the best terrain park in the eastern United States.

Family Bro loves Mount Snow partly because of Carinthia. Radbrah Junior can spend his afternoons there, posted up five wide with his boys, contemplating the hits below. The rest of the mountain, outside of the North Face, is interstate-width and solid blue. Families of almost any ability can manage this terrain. Mount Snow may be home to the best sustained intermediate terrain in New England. It’s certainly among the most varied. And the mountain grooms just about every run just about every night, even if I wish they’d chill and let some bumps sprout here and there.

Mount Snow’s biggest drawback is a relative lack of glades for a mountain of its size. Skiers seeking trees should aim their GPS for Stratton or Magic, both of which have excellent, extensive glade networks.

Epic Pass holders need to really pick their spots, though. Both Mount Snow and Okemo reach stampede-level crowding on weekends and holidays (I really don’t think either should be unlimited on the Epic Local pass). Head for Stowe at these times if at all possible. Or snag an Indy Pass for peak-day getaways to Magic and Bolton Valley.

Podcast Notes

On Heavenly and the Caldor Fire

When discussing Vail Resorts’ unified disaster response to the recent Vermont floods, I referred to a similar conversation I’d had with Heavenly COO Tom Fortune in regards to the Caldor Fire that descended on Tahoe two years ago. You can listen to that conversation starting at 56:03 here.

On Vermont’s monster March snowstorm

We discussed a monster snowstorm that descended on Vermont March 14 to 15. Huge snow totals included 45 inches at Bromley, 37 inches at Magic, and 46 inches at Mount Snow.

On crushing pow at Mount Snow

I discussed the chaos of a pow-day rope-drop at Mount Snow. Unfortunately the only access I have to it is this Twitter video. And since Substack won’t embed Twitter videos anymore you’ll have to click through to watch it:

Too many “suns”

I kept getting Mount Snow’s “sun” lifts confused. It reminded me of a time I was skiing Snowbird, and a bunch of us were debating where to go next, and my buddy Mike, clearly confused, was just like, “There’s too many Gads.” And my God he’s right.

On the Mount Snow “tram”

Brian and I briefly discussed Mount Snow’s old “tram,” which transported skiers from a base-area hotel up to the ski hill. It was really more of a whacky speedboat suspended from a cable, as you can see in the rendering on this 1965 trailmap. And yes, that’s a double bubble chair beside it:

On the Vail Resorts acquisition of Park City

Brian worked at Park City when Vail Resorts swiped it off Powdr Corp’s lunch tray after the latter forgot to renew its lease. It was probably the most cartoonishly absurd business transaction in the history of lift-served skiing. Here’s Park Record, examining the events as part of a decade-in-review series in late 2019:

In some circles, though, the whispers had already started that something was afoot, and perhaps not right, at PCMR. Powdr Corp. for some unknown reason was negotiating a sale of its flagship resort, the most prevalent of the rumblings held. The CEO of Powdr Corp., John Cumming, late in 2011 had publicly stated there was not a deal involving PCMR under negotiation, telling Park City leaders during a Marsac Building appearance in December of that year the resort was “not for sale.” Later that evening, he told The Park Record the rumors “always amuse me.”

The reality was far more astonishing and something that would define the decade in Park City in a similar fashion as the Olympics did in the previous 10-year span and the population boom did in the 1990s.

The corporate infrastructure in the spring of 2011 had inadvertently failed to renew two leases on the land underlying most of the PCMR terrain, propelling the PCMR side and the landowner, a firm under the umbrella of Talisker Corp., into what were initially private negotiations and then into a dramatic lawsuit that unfolded in state court as the Park City community, the tourism industry and the North American ski industry watched in disbelief. As the decade ends, the turmoil that beset PCMR stands, in many ways, as the instigator of a changing Park City that has left so many Parkites uneasy about the city’s future as a true community.

The PCMR side launched the litigation in March of 2012, saying the future of the resort was at stake in the case. PCMR might be forced to close if it did not prevail, the president and general manager of the resort at the time said at the outset of the case. Talisker Land Holdings, LLC countered that the leases had expired, suddenly leaving doubts that Powdr Corp. would retain control of PCMR. …

Colorado-based Vail Resorts, one of Powdr Corp.’s industry rivals, would enter the case on the Talisker Land Holdings, LLC side in May of 2013 with the aim of wresting the disputed land from Powdr Corp. and coupling it with nearby Canyons Resort, which was branded a Vail Resorts property as part of a long-term lease and operations agreement reached at the same time of the Vail Resorts entry into the case. Vail Resorts was already an industry behemoth with its namesake property in the Rockies and other mountain resorts across North America. The addition of Canyons Resort would advance the Vail Resorts portfolio in one of North America’s key skiing states.

It was a deft maneuver orchestrated by the chairman and CEO of Vail Resorts, Rob Katz. The agreement was pegged at upward of $300 million in long-term debt. As part of the deal, Vail Resorts also seized control of the litigation on behalf of Talisker Land Holdings, LLC. …

The lawsuit itself unfolded with stunning developments followed by shocking ones over the course of two-plus years. In one stupefying moment, the Talisker Land Holdings, LLC attorneys discovered a crucial letter from the PCMR side regarding the leases had been backdated. In another such moment, PCMR outlined plans to essentially dismantle the resort infrastructure, possibly on an around-the-clock schedule, if it was ordered off the disputed land.

What was transpiring in the courtroom was inconceivable to the community. How could Powdr Corp., even inadvertently, not renew the leases on the ground that made up most of the skiing terrain at PCMR, many asked. Why couldn’t Powdr Corp. and Talisker Land Holdings, LLC just reach a new agreement, others wondered. And many became weary as businessmen and their attorneys took to the courtroom with the future of PCMR, critical to a broad swath of the local economy, at stake. The mood eventually shifted to exasperation as it appeared there was a chance PCMR would not open for a ski season if Talisker Land Holdings, LLC moved forward with an eviction against Powdr Corp. from the disputed terrain.

The lawsuit wore on with the Talisker Land Holdings, LLC-Vail Resorts side winning a series of key rulings from the 3rd District Court judge presiding over the case. Judge Ryan Harris in the summer of 2014 signed a de facto eviction notice against PCMR and ordered the sides into mediation. Powdr Corp., realizing there was little more that could be accomplished as it attempted to maintain control of PCMR, negotiated a $182.5 million sale of the resort to Vail Resorts that September.

Absolutely brutal and amazing and hard to believe, even nearly a decade later.

On Canyons’ name history

I mentioned the various names that the former Canyons ski area (now part of Park City), had gone by. Ski Utah provides the complete history:

A neighboring ski area and sister resort to Park City Ski Area, called Park City West, opened in 1968. It was renamed ParkWest in 1975 after a change in ownership, then Wolf Mountain in 1995 for just two seasons. In 1997 it became The Canyons after an acquisition by the American Skiing Company before it was purchased by the Talisker Corporation. It was then sold to Vail Resorts in 2014 and subsequently merged with Park City Mountain. Today that base area is known as The Canyons Village at Park City.

On Mount Snow’s amazing snowmaking system

Just two years before selling its entire portfolio to Vail Resorts, Peak Resorts invested an amazing $30 million into Mount Snow’s snowmaking system. The Brattleboro Reformer profiled the system shortly before go-live in 2017:

West Lake is actually a sprawling system that begins about 4 miles from Mount Snow.

It starts with a small, black, inflatable dam that stretches 18 feet across Cold Brook in Wilmington. From November through March, Mount Snow can inflate that dam as needed, drawing water into the newly constructed reservoir.

A sluiceway alongside the dam ensures a flow of water in Cold Brook whether the dam is inflated or not.

"We were trying to be pretty low-impact, or as low-impact as possible," Storrs said.

A nondescript-looking pump house near the dam can send water upward toward Mount Snow at a rate of 11,800 gallons per minute, "which is pretty much double what we used to have in terms of pumping capacity," Storrs said.

On a recent morning, crews were putting on finishing touches and conducting tests at that pump house and two others situated farther up the mountain. There's a nearly 600-foot elevation gain between the inflatable dam and the last pump house on Mount Snow's slopes.

On Wildcat and the long season

We discussed Wildcat’s tradition as a late operator. Under Peak Resorts, the ski area would push the season into late April and, occasionally, May. Snowpak has documented Wildcat’s closing dates over the past nine years – note the shift to earlier dates after Vail acquired the resort in 2019 (ignore the 2020 date, for obvious reasons):

Vail shifted late-season New England operations to Mount Snow for reasons that Brian explains on the podcast. But it’s a little incongruous stacked up against the region’s other five late operators: Killington, Sugarbush, Jay Peak, Sunday River, and Sugarloaf, all of which are quite a ways north of Mount Snow:

On Grand Summit and Yan detachables

I referred to the dreadful safety record of Yan detachable lifts. I broke this history of death and incompetence down in my recent podcast with China Peak GM Tim Cohee (scroll down to the Podcast Notes section).

On Epic and Ikon access shifts since 2020

I keep asking Vail Resorts’ GMs if their ski areas are placed on the appropriate Epic Pass tier, mostly because it’s amazing to me that an unlimited season pass to a mountain like Breckenridge or Mount Snow or Stevens Pass could be $676 – the early-bird price of 2023-24 Epic Local Passes. The Ikon Pass, as I noted on the podcast, has shifted its pass structure all over the place the past several seasons, tweaking access to Stratton, Sugarbush, Crystal Mountain, Alta, Aspen, Jackson Hole, Taos, Deer Valley, and Arapahoe Basin. Here’s the chart I included in my recent podcast conversation with Alterra CEO Jared Smith to document those changes:

I was astonished when Vail kept Stevens Pass on the Epic Local unlimited tier after 2021’s well-documented crowding meltdowns. Things got so wild in Washington that Alterra pulled Crystal off the Ikon Pass’ unlimited tier and jacked its season pass price up to $1,700 for the 2022-23 ski season. I still don’t really understand this super-bargain access strategy, but Vail has made it clear that they’re sticking with it.

On the phenomenal deal that is the Epic Day Pass

We discussed the Epic Day Pass. This thing really is an amazing deal:

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The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 68/100 in 2023, and number 454 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

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Who

Travis Crawford, Co-Owner and General Manager of Great Divide, Montana

Recorded on

July 17, 2023

About Great Divide

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Betsy Moran, Shane Moran, Travis Crawford, Rose Crawford

Located in: Marysville, Montana

Year founded: 1941

Pass affiliations: None

Reciprocal partners: 3 days each at Whitefish, Snow King, Mt. Spokane, Bogus Basin, Mount Bohemia, Powderhorn CO, Ski Cooper, Sunlight

Closest neighboring ski areas: Discovery (2:13), Bridger Bowl (2:19), Montana Snowbowl (2:30)

Base elevation: 5,750 feet (at bottom of Wild West)

Summit elevation: 7,250 feet (at top of Belmont chair)

Vertical drop: 1,500 feet

Skiable Acres: 1,500

Average annual snowfall: 150 inches

Trail count: 127 (17% expert, 30% advanced, 47% intermediate, 7% beginner)

Lift count: 6 (5 doubles, 1 ropetow­­­)

Why I interviewed him

Should we all have a town bump like Great Divide. At the base: sundecks, steps wound between wooden buildings, bunched lifts rising from the parking lot. Centerpole Riblet doubles, those glorious machines. Up the mountain, a vastness. No fuss. Little grooming. Treed meadows hanging off traverses, flouncing down the incline. Up and over ridges. Narrow cuts through the trees. The kind of place, like Snowbird or Palisades, where runs meld together across broad faces. But without the extreme steepness of those alphas. But enough, pitched just so, a captivating kingdom begging for exploration.

There’s a homey appeal to a ropetow bump or a Midwestern 300-footer. Like a small-town gas station or a grocer or, as we call convenience stores in Michigan, a “party store.” Hey Fella, we see you there. Welcome. You’re part of it. Thanks for it. See ya next time. That’s why these places build skiers faster than ants raise pyramids of dirt in your driveway. That sort of casual inclusion invites immersion.

It can be tricky to even imagine how such back-slapping could translate to any ski area so large that you can’t see the whole thing from the parking lot. Actually achieving it is damn near impossible. Step into the frantic base at Park City or Steamboat or Big Sky or Snowbird and you immediately feel lost in the scale of it, surrounded by tens of millions of dollars worth of high-speed lifts telling you to get the hell out of there as fast as possible. Downhome has a tough time snagging shotgun on a vehicle made to transport 20,000 skiers per day.

Great Divide occupies a rare and special place in American skiing: big terrain, tight community. That town-bump energy distilled, preserved, guarded, a launchpad to the rambling terrain above. Montana, of course, is filled with such places: Bridger Bowl and Lost Trail and Maverick and Discovery and Montana Snowbowl and Red Lodge and Turner. Ski areas with the vert and acreage to be monsters, but with the humble lifts and base buildings that communicate the real-life fact of a snowy town square.

It is impossible not to love this place. Detach Bro may grumble about the fleet of Riblet doubles. Powder Bro will remind you that Great Divide’s 150 annual inches of snowfall is barely a passable week in Little Cottonwood Canyon. Corduroy Bro will wish for more top-to-bottom groomers. But unless your soul has been wrenched from your body by one too many cable news benders, the totality of this place will resonate with you, and leave you full long after you’ve driven back down the mountain.

What we talked about

Why Great Divide’s skier visits keep going up every year; Great Divide’s first-to-open, last-to-close tradition; the art of summertime slope maintenance; how Great Divide manages on just 150 inches per year; the methodical evolution of the ski area; buying the ski area you grew up at; what it means to be a community ski area; the pressure of carrying on a legacy; raising your kids on the mountain; the ownership group that Crawford purchased the ski area with in 2020; the Covid shutdowns and the aftermath; #Goals; modifying centerpole Riblets for MTB operations; Great Divide has two full Riblet lifts sitting in its boneyard – where should they go?; potential expansion; why Great Divide never built the Rawhide Gulch lift that appeared as future construction on old trailmaps; operating a ski area on Bureau of Land Management land and how that differs from operating on U.S. Forest Service land; potential Belmont lift upgrades; how an upgrade to the Wild West lift will allow it to spin faster; a potential new transfer lift; considering a carpet for the beginner area; the history of the unique Rawhide lift; yes, you can outfit centerpole Riblets with safety bars; retrofitting the rest of Great Divide’s lift fleet with bars; why the mountain’s official trail count has shrunk over the years; the ravages of the pine beetle; fire mitigation; don’t ski into that mineshaft; snowmaking and water issues; potential parking additions; a potential new baselodge; Great Divide’s $350 early-bird season pass deal and whether they will be able to hold that price; Great Divide’s extensive reciprocal lift ticket deals; and the Indy Pass.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

In January 2020, Crawford, along with his wife Rose and Betsy and Shane Moran, bought Great Divide from its longtime owners, Kevin and Nyla Taylor. Less than two months later, the world collapsed. Or so it seemed in the moment. And now they owned a ski area, which I guess at the moment probably felt like owning the wagon factory next door to the Model T plant.

Three years later, Great Divide just set a record for skier visits for the second consecutive season. The place is working. The Taylors’ legacy is secure. Over 35 years, they’d transformed the mountain from a T-bar joint run by a local ski club to the 48th-largest ski area in America. They’d entrusted their life’s work to an ownership group that included their daughter, Betsy. Great Divide had survived Covid. Now what?

As much as the Taylors achieved, Great Divide is still incredibly raw. The potential to add lifts and terrain is vast. The mountain could use a bigger baselodge, more parking, better snowmaking. Crawford and I discuss all of this. He has ideas. Many will happen. Actualizing each project is a matter of capital, permitting, planning, timing: a new Belmont lift, deeper water rights, an expansion off Rawhide Gulch. Great Divide will not stand still.

The question, of course, is how the ski area evolves without shedding its community ethos, its approachability and neighborly gleam. That balance, so hard to attain, is so easy to lose. But Crawford is well-positioned to achieve it. He lives, with his wife and two young kids, on the mountain. His 8-year-old son, he tells us, wakes up on Saturday morning, walks down to the lodge, gears up, and bombs the mountain alone all day long. Spoiling that atmosphere of howdy-get-along would be like tilling up your lawn and planting weeds. He just won’t do it.

What I got wrong

Embarrassingly, I kept calling the Taylors the “Naylors.” I don’t know why. My apologies to Kevin and Nyla Taylor.

I kept pronouncing “Helena,” as “Heh-Lain-Ah,” which is how I’d pronounced it since I was like zero years old. But talking to Crawford and other locals made me realize that the correct pronunciation is, “Heh-Leh-Nah.” But everyplace has its micro-regional place-name pronunciations that are impenetrable to outsiders. Have fun with “Muskegon,” “Swartz Creek,” “Frankenmuth,” “Clio,” “Pinconning,” “Roscommon,” “Mackinac,” and “Epoufette” if you’re not from Michigan.

Why you should ski Great Divide

Let’s start here: a full-day adult lift ticket for the 2022-23 ski season was $64. That’s four cents an acre. Not a bad conversion rate, and worthwhile even if you already have a multi-mountain pass or two tucked in your jacket pocket. And the joint is incredibly easy to get to (well, once you get to the middle of Montana), seated just eight miles off Interstate 15. So situated, Great Divide is a terrific decompression zone as you travel between Whitefish and Big Sky.

But go out of your way to get here if you must. The terrain is incredibly fun. Great Divide is not an extreme mountain or an especially snowy mountain, but it is an interesting one, with an appealing balance of semi-technical lines, glades, groomers, and de-stumped meadows that you can bomb with little concern for sharks.

Epic and Ikon Pass sales continue to climb. And no wonder why – these are astonishing bargains, punchcards to deep resort rosters that can satisfy any type of skier. This breadth and ease of access is good for skiing. But the passes’ popularity likely drives ever-more skiers to a relatively stable number of resorts, fundamentally transforming the experience of skiing the big-mountain West. But there are hacks, a sub-circuit of ski areas that are marketed primarily to locals but deliver terrain and vert that is comparable to – and far emptier than – the better-known ski areas headlining the big passes. Great Divide is one of them. Go get it.

Podcast Notes

On Montana’s large and underrated ski areas

Montana is the fourth-largest U.S. state by area, after Alaska, Texas, and California, but it’s home to just 18 alpine ski areas. They may be among the most underrated collection of ski areas in America, however: 12 cover 950 or more acres, and several clock an average annual snowfall of 300 inches or more.

On the old proposed Rawhide Gulch lift

Crawford and I briefly discuss a proposed-but-never-built lift that would have run up Rawhide Gulch – you can see that on the left hand side of this circa 1993 trailmap, between Jackpot and 4th of July:

On the peak that Winter Park will develop

I referred to a peak that lay within Winter Park’s Forest Service permit area and was slated for development under the ski area’s most-recent masterplan. That’s Vasquez Ridge, which I broke down in this article last year.

On the safety bar on Great Divide’s centerpole Riblets 

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 69/100 in 2023, and number 455 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

This podcast hit paid subscribers’ inboxes on Sept. 7. It dropped for free subscribers on Sept. 14. To receive future pods as soon as they’re live, and to support independent ski journalism, please consider an upgrade to a paid subscription. You can also subscribe for free below:

Who

Mike Solimano, President and General Manager of Killington and Pico Mountains, Vermont

Recorded on

Sept. 5, 2023

About Killington

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Powdr Corp

Located in: Killington, Vermont

Year founded: 1958

Pass affiliations: Ikon Pass: 5 or 7 combined days with Pico

Reciprocal partners: Pico access is included on all Killington passes

Closest neighboring ski areas: Pico (:12), Saskadena Six (:39), Okemo (:40), Twin Farms (:42), Quechee (:44), Ascutney (:55), Storrs (:59), Harrington Hill (:59), Magic (1:00), Whaleback (1:02), Sugarbush (1:04), Bromley (1:04), Middlebury Snowbowl (1:08), Arrowhead (1:10), Mad River Glen (1:11)

Base elevation: 1,156 feet at Skyeship Base

Summit elevation: 4,241 feet at Killington Peak

Vertical drop: 3,085 feet

Skiable Acres: 1,509

Average annual snowfall: 250 inches

Trail count: 155 (43% advanced/expert, 40% intermediate, 17% beginner)

Lift count: 20 (2 gondolas, 1 six-pack, 5 high-speed quads, 5 fixed-grip quads, 2 triples, 1 double, 1 platter, 3 carpets - view Lift Blog’s inventory of Killington’s lift fleet)

About Pico

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Powdr Corp

Located in: Mendon, Vermont

Year founded: 1934

Pass affiliations: Ikon Pass: 5 or 7 combined days with Killington

Reciprocal partners: Pico access is included on all Killington passes; four days Killington access included on Pico K.A. Pass

Closest neighboring ski areas: Killington (:12), Saskadena Six (:38), Okemo (:38), Twin Farms (:38), Quechee (:42), Ascutney (:53), Storrs (:57), Harrington Hill (:55), Magic (:58), Whaleback (1:00), Sugarbush (1:01), Bromley (1:00), Middlebury Snowbowl (1:01), Mad River Glen (1:07), Arrowhead (1:09)

Base elevation: 2,000 feet

Summit elevation: 3,967 feet

Vertical drop: 1,967 feet

Skiable Acres: 468

Average annual snowfall: 250 inches

Trail count: 58 (36% advanced/expert, 46% intermediate, 18% beginner)

Lift count: 7 (2 high-speed quads, 2 triples, 2 doubles, 1 carpet - view Lift Blog’s inventory of Pico’s lift fleet)

Why I interviewed him

Imagine if the statistical bureaus of nations operated like ski areas - the countries just threw around numbers with no basis in measurable reality. China could say it was bigger than Russia, U.S. America could claim more territory than Canada, and North Korea could say it was bigger than all of them combined (hell, it probably does).

This is the world one steps into when trying to ascertain the size of New England ski areas. Mt. Abram claims 450 acres. Middlebury Snow Bowl brags on “600-plus acres of woods and glades,” which would make it larger than Sugarbush, the Alterra-owned mega-resort that undersells itself with a 581-acre tally. Here’s what the aliens would see if they were to match our internet boasts up to measurable reality:

Did Middlebury Snowbowl acquire the air rights over its mountain? Is Mt. Abram built like Istanbul, with several ancient ski areas buried beneath the modern foundation, giving us a vast ski labyrinth to explore?

This strategy probably worked better when most skiers’ mode of resort comparison was “scanning a bunch of brochures at a rest area.” It’s harder to maintain when every human carries a device equipped with a map of planet earth in their pocket at all times. But ski areas keep fibbing anyway.

Which is probably why, several years ago, Killington started measuring itself like a Western ski area: draw a border around the property – that’s your skiable terrain. Oh, and we’ll no longer yell at you for skiing in the woods, which is technically “terrain” even if the underbrush is too thick for anything larger than a chipmunk to navigate.

Some of you would like me to challenge statistical inconsistency across the ski industry as a main feature of this newsletter. But I prefer to just make fun of it. If Mt. Abram wants to be the Baghdad Bob of New England skiing, well, what else are you going to do for attention when you’re across the street from Sunday River, whose annual lift-upgrade budget exceeds the GDP of Australia?

But until the North Conway Treaty of 2038, at which the ski areas of North America will collectively agree upon a universal statistical standard based upon actual measurements, I’m just going to take their word for it (sort of). Here’s a list of New England ski areas from largest to smallest, by skiable acreage, according to the ski resort’s own claims (I excluded Middlebury Snowbowl and Mt. Abram, which more accurately measure out at 110 and 170 acres, respectively):

Anyone who’s spent any amount of time skiing New England knows that something feels off with this list. Sugarbush, Stowe, and Jay – three of the dozen or so New England ski areas with reliable glades – ski as big as anything in the East. All three feel substantively larger than Stratton or Mount Snow. And neither Bolton Valley nor Black Mountain of Maine ski on the scale of Cannon or Waterville Valley.

But no one is disputing that top line. Killington is the largest ski area in New England. You can quibble about the vertical drop – the gut of Killington is the 1,650-ish-foot K-1 face. To scoop up the full 3,000-plus feet requires a rarely-skied meander down to the Skyeship Base at US 4. Mt. Ellen at Sugarbush (2,600 vertical feet), Madonna at Smuggs (2,150), FourRunner at Stowe (2,046), the single chair at Mad River Glen (1,972 feet), and Sugarloaf’s spectacular 2,820-foot face all deliver more sustained steep skiing than The Beast.

But there’s nothing else in the East on Killington’s scale, the massive overlapping network of six peaks rolling in all directions from the frantic hub. It’s one of the few ski areas, East or West, where I ever truly feel lost. There’s something brilliantly scattershot about it, something feral and boundless and enigmatic, as though 16 small ski areas had been stapled together by someone who’s never skied. There are insane traverses and endless flats, riotously steep trees and bumps all over, long groomers that you think lead back to the same lift you just exited, but instead seem to deposit you in New Hampshire. There are trails on the far fringe that feel abandoned on even the busiest days, where you suspect without being able to prove it that you’ve been transported to an alternate dimension of groomed forever-down, or at least back to a time before the Ikon Pass gave every skier on the eastern seaboard an annual allotment of Killington lift tickets.

It all works somehow. This great machine, howling like an armor-plated Mad Max rig, a cobbled-together war machine screaming across the winter plains. It feels like it should fall apart, disintegrate by the combined forces of speed and volume. But it carries on, the growling, supercharged id of New England winter, The Beast a gloss well-earned.

What we talked about

What’s behind Killington’s run of June closings; building the Superstar Glacier; why “The Beast” returned; how Killington pulled off the 2022 World Cup with a wildly warm November; what happened to October openings; early- versus late-season energy; whether social media makes the spring skiing party seem bigger than it is; Pico’s massive, multi-year snowmaking evolution; “Pico’s probably not worth what one detachable lift costs on its own” – the hard math of lift upgrades; Powdr Corp’s long-term commitment to Pico; Pico’s private mid-week mountain rentals; the new K-1 lodge; falling in love with skiing on a Magic Mountain powder day; when you start as chief financial officer and the parent company informs you that they may not be able to make payroll the following month; Killington’s rowdy transition from American Skiing Company to Powdr Corp to present-day calm; why Powdr Corp had such a tough time adapting to New England, and how the company finally did; online absurdities; the evolution of Powdr Corp; a Killington base village, on the way at last; why the village took so long to permit; “to be a successful village, it can’t just be a bunch of condos”; putting pedestrians first; what the village will mean for parking at Ramshead, Snowshed, Vale, and K-1; employee housing; how the village will connect to the resort’s lift system; whether we could see a lift from the village up to K-1; why Killington hasn’t upgraded Snowshed yet; redesigning Killington Road; fixing Killington’s water-quality issues; considering mass transit along Killington Road; priorities for lift upgrades at both ski areas; where Killington could install another six-pack; whether future sixers would have bubbles or D-line tech; why eight-pack lifts are unlikely; the potential for upgrades for the Bear Mountain quad and Snowden triple; what could eventually replace Outpost at Pico; current thinking around the Killington-Pico Interconnect; Fast Tracks two years in; Fast Tracks season passes; the Beast 365 and Ikon Base Pass add-on; and whether Beast 365 passholders are complaining about the dilution of the Ikon Base Pass (spoiler alert: they are).

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

Storm Skiing Podcast #1: Killington & Pico President & General Manager Mike Solimano, was not the first episode I ever recorded, but it was the first one I released. Because, as I wrote at the time, “if you’re going to start something like a podcast about Northeast skiing, you really ought to lead off with the most punch-you-in-your-face prominent part of Northeast skiing.” Starting this series with the head of the largest and baddest ski resort in New England injected The Storm with an instant patina of legitimacy, a forked road into journalism from the speculating, self-assured masses endlessly debating ski areas on social media.

There are hazards, of course, to going first, especially for a rapidly evolving brand like The Storm. A lot has changed in four years. The podcast sounds better. The Storm’s scope has expanded nationwide, embedding each subject in a national, rather than a regional, context. The article accompanying each episode is far richer, with maps and stats and charts that the reader once had to source on their own. And I hope – I’ll let the listener decide – that I’ve improved as an interviewer and as a host.

It was time to reset Killington and Pico. But with purpose. My mission, at The Storm’s outset four years ago, was simply to make connections with ski area leaders. The podcast episodes were more general-information sessions than conversations tuned to the moment. But almost every podcast on the current schedule is pegged to some tangible development: Keystone (scheduled for the week of Sept. 11), is opening the Bergman Bowl expansion after a one-year delay; Snowbird (Sept. 18), is a big player in the controversial Little Cottonwood Canyon gondola project; Attitash (Nov. 6), is at long last replacing the Summit Triple with a high-speed quad. Even Great Bear, South Dakota – scheduled for the week of Sept. 25 – is planning a new lift and expansion.

Killington just announced what is potentially the most transformative project in New England skiing for at least a generation: the approval to build, at long last, a (hopefully pedestrian) base village in the vast basin between Snowshed and Ramshead, a space currently occupied by parking lots sizeable enough to house the population of Ecuador. The East does not currently have anything like this – at least not at the foot of a ski area, where such things ought to be. But the region desperately needs this sort of human-scaled infrastructure.

I live in New York City, which means I am surrounded by acquaintances who have the means and desire to ski, but who do not necessarily ski that often. They will frequently petition me for recommendations that sound something like: where can I take my family/group of friends/brunch club skiing for a long weekend that is within driving distance of the city, has somewhere to stay on the mountain, and has food/drinking options within a short walk? And my answer to them is: there is nothing like that here. Go to Park City/Breckenridge/Aspen/somewhere else out West. New England is so preoccupied with preserving their natural environment that most meaningful development is done a several-mile drive from the major ski hills, which of course compromises the natural environment with sprawl, excessive traffic, and parking lots the size of the Mendenhall Glacier.

There are some minor exceptions to this: small villages at Stratton and Stowe. Ample slopeside accommodations at Smugglers’ Notch and Okemo. But none of these give the skier that sense of place they’ll find in Steamboat or Crested Butte or even Vail Village, with its pedestrian walkways paved over what had been wilderness until the 1960s. But who says a new village is a “fake” village, as they’re so often framed? A place for people to gather is a place for people to gather, and if we could build such places 2,000 years ago, we can build them today.

New England deserves this. Because great ski areas are better when the community doesn’t end at the bottom of the lift queue. Because once we build one, others will follow. Because it’s a fairly stupid fact that the region of the United States most known for its quaint small towns is without a single quaint ski town (meaning, one that backs up to the ski resort). Because Built America has sprawled out enough, and its time to back up and fill in all the blank space with something better. Because there is no better way for a state preoccupied with preserving its natural environment to build than in dense clusters of life and activity. And because it would be fabulous and because it would work and because I’m tired of telling New Yorkers to fly to Aspen when Killington ought to be able to give them everything they need.

Questions I wish I’d asked

I wanted to talk a bit about the Woodward park that Powdr has been dropping at Killington each of the past several winters. I also had a few questions about passes: the Pico K.A.’s odd name, the creeping price of the Killington spring pass, whether the Mountain Collective was in play for Killington.

What I got wrong

About the size of Pico

I said Pico was about “the size of Cannon or the size of Waterville Valley.” This is kind of true but was also an on-the-fly guess. As is clear from the skiable acreage discussion above, gauging the size of New England ski areas is a little bit of a party game. I think Pico and Waterville are about the same size, but Pico, mimicking Killington’s border-to-border measurement philosophy, claims 468 acres. Waterville, which, according to general manager Tim Smith, only counts trail acreage, sits at 265 acres. But both hit right around 2,000 feet of vert. Cannon is a bit higher, at 2,180. Still, I think it was a fair comparison. Here are New England’s tallest ski areas, organized by vertical drop:

About resumes

I said in the intro that Solimano had joined Killington in 2002. He actually started in December 2001, as he clarifies in the interview.

About the Ikon Base Pass

When discussing the erosion of the Ikon Base Pass over time, I said that “Alterra had taken mountains off” the pass. That wasn’t exactly right or fair. Former Alterra CEO Rusty Gregory told me on the podcast last year that Alterra resisted creating the Plus tier for Ikon Base. But Jackson Hole and Aspen, facing locals’ revolts over the pass’ impact, insisted on doing something. The Ikon Base Plus, then, was a compromise. Other ski areas have followed since the Base Plus debuted in 2020: Alta and Deer Valley (the latter of which Alterra does own) in 2022, and Taos in 2023. Snowbasin and Sun Valley opted for Base Plus over Base when they joined the coalition in 2022.

Still, however we got here, the fact is this: the Ikon Base Pass excludes seven of the pass’ most attractive destinations. Unfortunately, passholders at partner resorts that offer an Ikon Base Pass with their top-tier season passes (Sugarloaf, Sunday River, Loon, Killington, Windham, Aspen, Big Sky, Taos [sold out], Alta, Snowbasin, Snowbird, Brighton, Jackson Hole [sold out], Sun Valley, Mt. Bachelor, Boyne Mountain), are not able to upgrade to an Ikon Base Plus or full Ikon Pass. Several leaders of the above-mentioned mountains have confirmed to The Storm that their passholders find this annoying, like getting a year of free Domino’s but being told that you can only order salad and sandwiches. No pizza for you.

Alta is the pizza on the Ikon Pass. Jackson Hole is pizza. Aspen is pizza. Blue Mountain is a Chicken Ceasar salad. It’s nice. It tastes fine. But really everyone wants the pizza.

Here’s that chart again tracking Ikon Pass partners by tier over time:

Why you should ski Killington and Pico

One reason to ski Killington is easy: often, it’s your only option. The mountain closed June 1 this year, more than a month after every other resort in the region other than Jay and Sugarbush, which both ran to May 7. On the other end, The Beast has somewhat ceded its rush to open. After six October openings in the eight seasons beginning in 2011, Killington hasn’t spun the lifts before Halloween since 2018 (warm falls and Covid haven’t helped). But they’re rarely beaten to go-live in New England, and seasons that push or exceed 200 days make sure the mountain’s expensive season pass is worth it.

Pico is funny. If it were anywhere else other than exactly next door to the largest ski area in New England, Pico might be a major ski area. Its 468 acres would make it the largest ski area in New Hampshire. A 2,000-foot vertical drop is impressive anywhere. The mountain has two high-speed lifts. And, by the way, knockout terrain. There is only one place in the Killington complex where you can run 2,000 vertical feet of steep terrain: Pico.

The American norm is that skier visits move east-to-west. But I’ll get an occasional email from a Rocky Mountain dweller who’s visiting family out east, and they want to know where to ski. There are 100 ski areas in New England – more than in Colorado (34), California (30), Utah (18), and Montana (16) combined. How do you sort through all that? If you want my recommendations of what to do with a week, I’d tell you to start with Killington, then move north through Sugarbush, Mad River Glen, Stowe, Smugglers’ Notch, and Jay Peak. Then cross the top of New England to Sugarloaf. That’s the best of what we’ve got. But The Beast, the king of them all, is Killington.

Podcast Notes

Miscellany on items discussed in the podcast:

On Killington’s historic opening and closing dates

Killington has done a nice job documenting these on its website:

On the history of the Women’s World Cup at Killington

Since 2016, Killington has acted as the early-season U.S. stop on the Women’s World Cup, drawing enormous, raucous crowds. While I don’t cover ski racing or competition, I acknowledge the importance of this event to Killington, as an ancillary business, as a celebration of the sport, as a cultural token, and as a showcase of the resort’s singular snowmaking firepower. You can sign up for Killington’s World Cup updates here.

On North Ridge early-season skiing

Early-season skiing at Killington is a novel, inventive, highly orchestrated event. Typically, only three runs are open, and they are lodged on an area called North Ridge near the top of Killington Peak. Skiers park in the K-1 lot, ride the K-1 gondola over brown slopes to the summit, walk across a catwalk (and its many, many steps), and arrive in winter: typically the Rime, Reasons, and East Fall trails, snowy and frantic with fellow early-season lunatics. The concentration of very good skiers tends to be quite amazing, as the Park Brahs are Parking Out Brah – with whatever little knoll they can turn into a feature (plus, usually, a few built on Reason by Killington’s parks crew). You lap North Ridge Quad for as long as you can tolerate, but you can’t ski back down – there’s no snow below East Fall. So you have to hike back up the catwalk, back to K-1, and ride the gondy back down to the parking lot. Here’s a diagram:

It’s less about the skiing, frankly, than about being a part of something unique and joyful. The skiing, however, is sometimes quite good, especially if it’s cold enough to leave the snowguns running, refreshing the surface all day long.

On Pico’s lift fleet

Pico has one of the oldest lift fleets in New England – the last new lift install was 35 years ago. Strangely, the mountain also has two high-speed quads, both the (historically) problematic Yan detachables (read more on that in the Podcast Notes section here). But, for reasons Solimano details in the podcast, new lifts are unlikely anytime soon. Pico’s current state, per Lift Blog:

On Powdr Corp’s portfolio

Killington is one of 10 North American ski areas owned by Park City-based Powdr Corp:

On the lawsuit around lifetime season passes

When Powdr Corp purchased Killington in 2007, the company inherited the largest ski area in New England – and a gigantic anchor in the form of 1,243 “lifetime” season passes distributed by a former owner. Powdr said, “Yeah we’re not doing that,” the passholders sued, and Powdr ultimately won. A 2010 synopsis from Legal Blog Watch:

Twenty years ago, Killington, Vt., resident Martin Post and his wife, Jill, paid about $3,500 each for lifetime ski passes at Killington Resort. The Posts are happily still alive but, as of May 17, 2010, their passes are not.

The Times Argus reports that in May, U.S. Judge Christina Reiss found that the resort's current owners, SP Land Co. and Powdr Corp., which purchased Killington Resort in 2007, were under no legal obligation to honor the passes that were sold in the early years of the ski area as an incentive to attract investors.

The class action litigation before Judge Reiss involved 1,243 pass holders -- 342 yearly transferable passes and 901 passes that could be transferred a single time. The plaintiffs alleged that under the wording of the investor passes, the holder is entitled "to the free use of all ski lifts operated by (Sherburne) Killington Ltd. at (Killington Basin) Killington Ski Area so long as the corporation shall operate in that area under an agreement with the state of Vermont." Plaintiffs claimed that the reference to "the corporation" meant any subsequent operator of the ski area, including the new owners, but the court disagreed.

Judge Reiss granted the defendants' motion for summary judgment, finding that "the only reasonable interpretation of that language is that it requires Killington Ltd. to provide the designated passholder free use of all ski lifts operated by Killington Ltd. at the Killington Ski Area so long as it operates in that area ... "The term corporation, she wrote, "clearly refers to the named corporations, Sherburne and Killington Ltd." and "reveals no intention to bind Killington Ltd's successors ... To the contrary, Killington Ltd.'s obligations under the passes clearly terminate with its cessation of operations in the area."

The plaintiffs have appealed Reiss' decision to the 2nd U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals.

I’m assuming the plaintiffs lost the appeal, but I can’t find any record of it.

On New England’s 100 ski areas

Here’s the inventory - collect them all! (let me know if you have):

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 74/100 in 2023, and number 460 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

This podcast hit paid subscribers’ inboxes on Sept. 19. It dropped for free subscribers on Sept. 26. To receive future pods as soon as they’re live, and to support independent ski journalism, please consider an upgrade to a paid subscription. You can also subscribe to the free tier below:

Who

Chris Sorensen, Vice President and General Manager of Keystone, Colorado

Recorded on

September 11, 2023

About Keystone

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Vail Resorts

Located in: Keystone, Colorado

Year founded: 1970

Pass affiliations:

* Epic Pass: unlimited access

* Epic Local Pass: unlimited access

* Summit Value Pass: unlimited access

* Keystone Plus Pass: unlimited access with holiday blackouts

* Tahoe Local: five days combined with Vail, Beaver Creek, Breckenridge, Crested Butte, Park City

* Epic Day Pass: access with All Resorts and 32-resorts tiers

Closest neighboring ski areas: Arapahoe Basin (:08), Frisco (:19), Loveland (22 minutes), Breckenridge (:25), Copper (:25), Vail (:44), Beaver Creek (:53), Ski Cooper (:56) – travel times vary considerably given traffic, weather, and time of year.

Base elevation: 9,280 feet

Summit elevation: 12,408 feet at the top of Keystone Peak; highest lift-served point is 12,282 feet at the top of Bergman Bowl Express

Vertical drop: 3,002 feet lift-served; 3,128 feet hike-to

Skiable Acres: 3,149 acres

Average annual snowfall: 235 inches

Trail count: 130 (49% most difficult, 39% more difficult, 12% easiest)

Lift count: 20 (1 eight-passenger gondola, 1 six-passenger gondola, 4 high-speed six-packs, 3 high-speed quads, 1 fixed-grip quad, 1 triple, 2 doubles, 7 carpets)

Why I interviewed him

Keystone arrived in 1970, a star member of the last great wave of western ski resort development, just before Snowbird (1971), Northstar (1972), Telluride (1972), and Big Sky (1973). It landed in a crowded Summit County, just down the road from Arapahoe Basin (1946) and five miles overland from Breckenridge (1961). Copper Mountain came online two years later. Loveland (1937) stood at the gateway to Summit County, looming above what would become the Eisenhower Tunnel in 1973. Just west sat Ski Cooper (1942), the mighty and rapidly expanding Vail Mountain (1962), and the patch of wilderness that would morph into Beaver Creek within a decade. Today, the density of ski areas along Colorado’s I-70 corridor is astonishing:

Despite this geographic proximity, you could not find more distinct ski experiences were you to search across continents. This is true everywhere ski areas bunch, from northern Vermont to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula to the Wasatch. Ski areas, like people, hack their identities out of the raw material available to them, and just as siblings growing up in the same household can emerge as wildly different entities, so too can mountains that sit side-by-side-by-side.

Keystone, lacking the gnar, was never going to be Jackson or Palisades, fierce and frothing. Sprung from wilderness, it could never replicate Breck’s mining-town patina. Its high alpine could not summon the drama of A-Basin’s East Wall or the expanse of Vail’s Back Bowls.

But Keystone made its way. It would be Summit County’s family mountain, its night-ski mountain, and, eventually, one of its first-to-open-each-ski-season mountains. This is the headline, and this is how everyone thinks of the place. But over the decades, Keystone has quietly built out one of Colorado’s most comprehensive ski experiences, an almost perfect front-to-back progression from gentle to damn. Like Heavenly or Park City, Keystone wears its steeps modestly, like your quiet neighbor with a Corvette hidden beneath tarps in the polebarn. All you notice is the Camry parked in the driveway. But there are layers here. Keep looking, and you will find them.

What we talked about

Hopeful for that traditional October opening; why Keystone is Vail’s early-season operator in Colorado; why the mountain closes in early April; breaking down the Bergman Bowl expansion and the six-pack that will service it; the eternal tension of opening hike-to terrain to lift service; building more room to roam, rather than more people to roam it; the art of environmentally conscious glading; new lift-served  terrain in Erickson Bowl; turning data into infrastructure; why the Bergman sixer won’t have bubbles; why Bergman won’t access The Windows terrain; the clever scheme behind renaming the Bergman Bowl expansion trails; building a new trailmap with Rad Smith; where skiers will be able to get a copy of the new paper trailmap; comparing the Peru upgrade to the Bergman lift project; the construction mistake that delayed the Bergman expansion by a full year; the possibility of lifts in Independence, North, and South Bowls; falling in love with skiing Colorado, then moving to Michigan; why Vail bought a bunch of Midwest bumps; when you get to lead the resort where you started bumping lifts; what makes Keystone stand out even though it sits within one of the densest concentrations of large ski areas in North America; thoughts on long-term lift upgrades, and where we could see six-packs; whether the Argentine lift could ever return in some form; the potential for a Ski Tip lift; where Keystone could expand next; whether a Windows lift is in play; North American Bowl; when we could see an updated Keystone masterplan; why Keystone gets less snow than its neighbors; assessing Epic Pass access; and night skiing.   

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

Keystone is opening one of three large lift-served ski expansions in Colorado this winter: the 500-plus-acre Bergman Bowl, served by a high-speed six-pack (the other two are Hero’s on Aspen Mountain and Mahogany Ridge at Steamboat). While this pod has occupied the trailmap as hike-to terrain for years, more people will likely ski it before noon on a typical Monday than once slogged up the ridgeline in an entire winter. Keystone has renamed and somewhat re-sculpted the trails in honor of the occasion, inviting the masses onto a blue-square oasis at the top of Summit County.

Which is always a good excuse for a podcast. But… this terrain was supposed to open in 2022, until the project ran into a high-altitude brick wall last July, when construction crews oopsied a road through sensitive terrain. Vail Daily:

Construction of a new chairlift at Keystone Resort was ordered to cease this week after the U.S. Forest Service learned that an unauthorized road had been bulldozed through sensitive areas where minimal impacts were authorized.

Keystone Resort, which operates by permit on U.S. Forest Service land, was granted permission by the White River National Forest to construct a new chairlift this summer in the area known as Bergman Bowl, creating a 555-acre expansion of Keystone’s lift-served terrain. But that approval came with plenty of comments from the Environmental Protection Agency, which recommended minimal road construction associated with the project due to Bergman Bowl’s environmentally sensitive location. …

White River National Forest Supervisor Scott Fitzwilliams said while the Forest Service does approve many projects like Bergman Bowl, officials typically don’t allow construction of new access roads in Alpine tundra.

“When you drop a bulldozer blade in the Alpine, that is very fragile, and very difficult to restore,” Fitzwilliams said.

In Bergman Bowl, the Forest Service has found “damage to the Alpine environment … impacts to wetlands and stuff that we normally don’t want to do,” Fitzwilliams said.

As a result, Fitzwilliams issued a cease and desist letter to Vail Resorts. He said the company immediately complied and shut down the impacted parts of the project.

The Forest Service has not yet determined if a full restoration can occur.

“When you impact the Alpine environment, it’s not easy to restore,” Fitzwilliams said. “Sometimes, although achievable in some areas, it’s difficult.”

Vail Resorts, which has staked much of its identity on its friend-of-the-environment credentials, owned the mistake and immediately hired a firm to design a mitigation plan. What Keystone came back with was so thorough that it stunned Forest Service officials. Blevins, writing a week later in the Colorado Sun:

White River National Forest supervisor Scott Fitzwilliams on Thursday said he accepted Vail Resorts’ cure for improperly grading 2.5 acres outside of approved construction boundaries, including 1.5 acres above treeline in the fragile alpine zone. The company’s construction crews also filled a wetland creek with logs and graded over it to create a road crossing and did not save topsoil and vegetation for replanting after construction, all of which the agency found “were not consistent with Forest Service expectations.”

Fitzwilliams rescinded his order of noncompliance and canceled the cease-and-desist order he issued last month after Forest Service officials discovered the construction that had not been permitted. …

“Quite honestly, it’s the best restoration plan I’ve ever seen in my life. Even our staff are like ‘Oh my god,’” Fitzwilliams said. “The restoration plan submitted by Keystone is extremely detailed, thorough and includes all the necessary actions to insure the damage is restored as best as possible.”

The damage to fragile alpine terrain does require additional analysis under the National Environmental Policy Act, but Fitzwilliams said that can be done while the construction continues.

On Thursday afternoon, resort officials said the further environmental review will keep Bergman Bowl from opening for the 2022-23 season, a development Keystone general manager Chris Sorensen said is disappointing but necessary.

Indeed. The only way out is through. But how did that plan go? And what is Vail doing to make sure such mistakes don’t recur? And how do you manage such a high-profile mistake from a personal and leadership point of view? It was a conversation worth having, and one that Sorensen managed well.

What I got wrong…

About the exact timeline of Vail’s Midwest acquisitions

I kind of lumped Vail Resorts’ first three Midwest acquisitions together, but there was quite a bit of space between the company’s purchase of Afton Alps and Mt. Brighton, in 2012, and its pickup of Wilmot in 2016. The rest came with the Peak Resorts’ acquisition in 2019.

About Copper Mountain’s season pass price

I said that it was “about $750” for a Copper pass or an Ikon Base Pass. Both were undercounts. Copper’s 2023-24 season pass debuted at $799 and is now $849. The 2023-24 Ikon Base Pass, which includes unlimited access to Copper Mountain, debuted at $829 and now sells for $929.

About the most-affordable big-mountain ski passes in the United States

I said that Keystone offered “the most affordable big-mountain season pass” in the country. With peak-day walk-up lift tickets scheduled to hit $269 this season at Keystone, that may seem like an odd declaration. But it’s almost true: Keystone sells the second-most-affordable unlimited season pass among America’s 20 largest ski areas. Sister resort Park City comes in cheaper on a cost-per-acre basis, and Vail Mountain is tied with Keystone. In fact, four of the top five most affordable big-mountain passes are at Vail-owned properties (Park City, Keystone, Vail, and Heavenly):

About night skiing

I said that Keystone had “the largest night-skiing operation in America.” This is incorrect. I tried to determine who, indeed, hosts America’s largest night-skiing operation, but after slamming my head into a wall for a few hours, I abandoned the exercise. There is absolutely no common standard of measurement, probably because 14-year-olds slamming Bang energy drinks and Faceposting from the chairlift aren’t keen on fact-checking. Here’s the best I could come up with:

Even that simple chart took an embarrassing amount of time to assemble. At some point I will return to this exercise, and will include the entire country. The Midwest will factor significantly here, as nearly every ski area in the region is 100 percent lit for night-skiing. New York and the Mid-Atlantic also host many large night-skiing operations, as do Bolton Valley, Vermont and Pleasant Mountain, Maine. But unless I wanted to publish this podcast in June of 2024, I needed to flee this particular briar patch before I got ensnared.

Why you should ski Keystone

The Keystone you’re thinking of is frontside Keystone, Dercum Mountain, River Run and Mountain House, Montezuma and Peru. That Keystone has a certain appeal. It is an approachable outsiders’ version of Colorado, endless and wide, fast but manageable, groomed spirals ambling beneath the sunshine. Step out of the Suburban after a 16-hour drive from Houston, and find the Middle Earth you were seeking, soaring and jagged and wild, with a pedestrian village at the base.

Keep going. Down Mine Shaft or Diamond Back to North Peak: 1,600 vertical feet of moguls bigger than your car. A half-dozen to choose from. Behind that, yet another peak, like a third ski area. Outback is where things start to get savage. Not drop-off-The-Cirque-at-Snowbird savage, but challenging enough. Slide back to Timberwolf or Bushwacker or Badger – or, more boldly, the trees in between – for that wild Colorado that Texas Ted and New York Ned find off Dercum.

Or walk past the snow fort and click out, bootpack a mile and drop into Upper Windows, the only terrain marked double black on Keystone’s sprawling trailmap. A rambling world, crisp and silent beneath the Outpost Gondola. Until it spits you out onto Mozart, Keystone’s I-70, frantic and cluttered all the way to Santiago, and another lap.

Podcast Notes

On Keystone’s 2009  masterplan

Keystone’s masterplan dates to 2009, the second-oldest on file with the White River National Forest (Buttermilk’s dates to 2008). The sprawling plan includes several yet-to-be-constructed lifts, including fixed-grips up Independence Bowl and Windows, a surface lift bisecting North and South Bowls; and a two-way ride out of Ski Tip. The plan also proposes upgrades to Outback, Wayback, and A-51; and a whole new line for the now-decommissioned Argentine:

Since that image isn’t very crisp, here’s a closer look at Dercum:

North Peak:

And Outback:

Sorensen and I discuss the potential for each of these projects, some of which are effectively dead. Strangely, Keystone’s only two new chairlifts (besides Bergman), since 2009 - upgrading Montezuma and Peru from high-speed quads to sixers – were not suggested on the MDP at all. Argentine, which once connected the Mountain House Base directly to the Montezuma lift, was a casualty of the 2021 Peru upgrade. Here’s a before-and-after:

Argentine, it turns out, is just the latest casualty in Keystone’s front-side clean-sweep. Check out this 1996 trailmap, when Dercum (called “Keystone” here), hosted nine frontside chairlifts (plus the gondola), to today’s five:

On the new Bergman Bowl trail names

Bergman Bowl has appeared on Keystone’s trailmap since at least 2005. The resort added trail names around 2007. As part of the lift installation, we get all new trail names and a few new trails (as well as downgrades, for most of the old lines, to blues). Keystone also updated trailnames in adjacent Erickson Bowl, which the new lift will partially serve. Sorensen and I discuss the naming scheme in the pod:

On Rad Smith’s new hand-painted Keystone trailmap

Since 2002 or so, Keystone’s trailmap has viewed the resort at a slight angle, with Dercum prioritized, the clear “front side.”

The new map, Sorensen tells us, whips the vantage around to the side, giving us a better view of Bergman and, consequently, of North Peak and Outback. Here’s the old map (2022 on the left), alongside the new:

And here’s the two-part video series on making the map with Rad Smith:

On Vail’s new app

I’ve driven round trip between New York City and Michigan hundreds of times. Most of the drive is rural and gorgeous, cruise-control country, the flat Midwest and the rolling mountains of Pennsylvania. Even the stretch of north Jersey is attractive, hilly and green, dramatic at the Delaware Water Gap. All that quaintness slams shut on the eastbound approach to the George Washington Bridge, where a half dozen highways collapse into the world’s busiest bridge. Backups can be comically long. Hitting this blockade after a 12-hour drive can be excruciating.

Fortunately, NJDOT, or the Port Authority, or whomever controls the stretch of Interstate 80 that approaches the bridge after its 2,900-mile journey from San Francisco, has erected signs a few dozen miles out that ominously communicate wait times for the GW’s upper and lower decks. I used to doubt these signs as mad guesses typed in by some low-level state employee sitting in a control room with a box of donuts. But after a couple dozen unsuccessful attempts to outsmart the system, I arrived at a bitter realization: the signs were always right.

This is the experience that users of Vail’s new My Epic app can (hopefully) expect when it comes online this winter. This app will be your digital Swiss Army Knife, your Epic Pass/stats tracker/snow cam/in-resort credit card/GPS tracker with interactive trailmap. No word on if they’ll include that strange metal spire that’s either a miniature icepick or an impromptu brass knuckle. But the app will include real-time grooming updates and chairlift wait times. And if a roadsign in New Jersey can correctly communicate wait times to cross the George Washington Bridge, then Vail Resorts ought to be able to sync this chairlift wait-times thing pretty precisely.

On Mt. Brighton being built from landfill

Depending upon your point of view, Mt. Brighton, Michigan – which Sorensen ran from 2016 to 2018 – is either the most amazing or the most appalling ski area in Vail’s sprawling portfolio. Two-hundred thirty vertical feet, 130 acres, five chairlifts, seven surface lifts, and about four trees, rising like some alt-world mini-Alps from the flatlands of Southeast Michigan.

Why is it there? What does it do? Who would do such a thing to themselves? The answer to the first question lies in the expressways that crisscross three miles to the east: crews building Interstate 96 and US 23 deposited the excess dirt here, making a hill. The answer to the second question is: the place sells a s**t-ton of Epic Passes, which was the point of Vail buying the joint. And the answer to the third question is obvious as well: for the local kids, its ski here or ski nowhere, and little Midwest hills are more fun than you think. Especially when you’re 12 and the alternative is sitting inside for Michigan’s 11-month winter.

On Keystone’s potential West Ridge expansion

Sorensen refers to a potential “West Ridge” expansion, which does not appear on the 2009 trailmap. The ski area’s 1989 masterplan, however, shows up to five lifts scaling West Ridge between North Peak and Outback (which was then called “South Peak”):

On Keystone being among Colorado’s least-snowy major resorts

It’s a strange fact of geography that Keystone scores significantly less snow, on average, than its Colorado peers:

This makes even less sense when you realize how close Keystone sits to A-Basin (115 more inches per season), Breck (118), and Copper (70):

When I hosted OpenSnow founder and CEO Joel Gratz on the podcast last year, he explained Keystone’s odd circumstances (as well as how the mountain sometimes does better than its neighbors), at the 1:41:43 mark.

On pass prices across Summit County creeping up over the past several years

Summit County was Ground Zero for the pass wars, during which a preponderance of mountains the size of Rhode Island fought to the death over who could give skiing away the cheapest. There are many reasons this battle started here, and many reasons why it’s ending. Not the least of which is that each of these ski areas hosts the population of a small city every day all winter long. Colorado accounts for approximately one in four U.S. skier visits. The state’s infrastructure is one rolled-over semi away from post-apocalyptic collapse. There’s no reason that skiing has to cost less than a load of laundry when everyone wants to do it all the time.

As a result, prices are slowly but steadily rising. Here’s what’s happened to pass prices at the four Summit County ski areas over the past six seasons:

They’ve mostly gone up. Keystone is the only one that is less expensive to ski at now than it was in 2018 (on a season-pass basis). This chart is somewhat skewed by a couple of factors:

* For the 2018-19 ski season, A-Basin was an unlimited member of the Epic Pass, Epic Local Pass, and Summit Value Pass, a fact that nearly broke the place. The drastic price drop from 2018 to ’19 reflects A-Basin’s first year outside Vail’s coalition.

* Vail cut Epic Pass prices 20 percent from the 2020-21 ski season to the 2021-22 campaign. That’s why Breck and Keystone are approximately the same price now as they were before the asteroid attack, Covid.

* Little-known fact: Copper Mountain sells its own season pass, separate from the Ikon Pass, even though the mountain offers unlimited access on both the Ikon Base and full Ikon passes.

On Mr. Oklahoma

I don’t want to spoil the ending here, but we do talk about this.

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 75/100 in 2023, and number 461 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

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Who

Dave Fields, President and General Manager of Snowbird, Utah

Recorded on

September 18, 2023

About Snowbird

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Powdr

Located in: Snowbird, Utah

Year founded: 1971

Pass affiliations:

* Ikon Pass: 7 days, shared with Alta, no blackouts

* Ikon Base Plus Pass: 5 days, shared with Alta, holiday blackouts

* Ikon Base Pass: 5 days, holiday blackouts

* Mountain Collective: 2 days, no blackouts

* Altabird: unlimited access

Closest neighboring ski areas: Alta (1 second), Solitude (:39), Woodward Park City (:39), Brighton (:42), Park City (:47), Deer Valley (:55) - travel times vary dramatically depending upon weather and time of day and year.

Base elevation: 7,760 feet (at Baby Thunder)

Summit elevation: 11,000 feet (at Hidden Peak)

Vertical drop: 3,240 feet

Skiable Acres: 2,500

Average annual snowfall: 500 inches

Trail count: 140 (35% most difficult, 38% intermediate, 27% beginner – this is the official breakdown by trail name; anyone who has skied Snowbird knows that the count is closer to 99% Oh S**t, 1% for mortals)

Lift count: 14 (1 tram, 6 high-speed quads, 4 doubles, 3 conveyors)

Why I interviewed him

Since I’ve skied hundreds of ski areas and I write about them incessantly, people often ask me which one is the best, or at least which is my favorite. It should be a hard question to answer. Nothing else in America delivers the drama of Big Sky, the energy of Palisades Tahoe, the aura of Aspen-Snowmass, the sprawl of Vail Mountain. How could I possibly choose a winner? But it is not a hard question to answer. Because the answer is Snowbird and Alta. And nothing else comes close. Not in Utah. Not in Colorado. Not in Tahoe. Not up and down the Rockies. Not in Alaska. Not in BC. Yes, I’m including Whistler. There is no better skiing.

One lift to the top. Three thousand feet of sustained pitch. Five hundred inches of snow – on average. Last season, 838. That’s more snow than the Poconos have tallied in every winter since the Lincoln Administration, combined. And all of it like a bag of cottonballs, so light it’s a wonder the stuff doesn’t float off into the sky. The terrain: vast, varied, labyrinthian, mesmerizing, scarcely groomed. Trees like Narnia, spaced for loping pow turns, chained one to the next by snow meadows smooth and ever-rising. Big open bowls. Chutes stacked off The Cirque like weapons arrayed along an armory wall. Hidden Peak. Mineral. Baldy up top. Alta through the gate. Amazing.

That such a place exists at all is a stunning confluence of a dozen natural phenomena. That this snowy freefall sits not in some sawtoothed Alaskan range 600 miles from the nearest road, but 34 miles – half of it interstate – from a major international airport is one of the most amazing facts that I’m aware of. And I’ve witnessed human birth. Twice.

Snowbird is so good that it’s hard to imagine how we’d think about great ski areas if it didn’t exist. Like contemplating the best basketball player if there’d been no Michael Jordan, or arguing over the best way to light a room prior to the invention of lightbulbs. Whatever you think of as the attributes of a great ski area - and by that I mean the skiing, not the shopping or the apres or the wacky tire-tube races - Snowbird transcends them all.

Of course, Alta, as a brand and as an organized ski hill, was there first (by 33 years), and it shares Snowbird’s every attribute, with a bit more soul and a bit more snow and a bit less flash and lift-served vert. Part of the Snowbird mystique is proximity to – and the direct connection with – its atmospheric neighbor. If Snowbird stood alone on some Utah steppe, perhaps it would not be so easy to notch the mountain above its peers. But the interplay of the two, their vastness and mystery, their videogame-like tap-dancing between realms, their surreal Cloud City patina, creates, in their fusion, the best version of skiing that we have.

What we talked about

Living through 838 inches of snow; what happens when hundreds of employees have to spend the night to make sure the mountain can open; why Alta gets more snow than Snowbird; assessing Snowbird’s new tram cars and related upgrades; why Snowbird didn’t build an all-new tram; catastrophe installing the new tram cars; “I’ve never had an ocean-liner tracker on my phone until this came to pass”; dealing with disappointment; reminiscing on the mysterious pre-Olympics Utah; the legacy of Snowbird’s former longtime GM, Bob Bonar; the transition from independent resort to member of Powdr; “I’m amazed at how quickly the marketplace has changed” from a multi-mountain pass point of view; why Snowbird didn’t join the Mountain Collective for its inaugural season in 2012; why Snowbird and Alta joined the Ikon Pass as one combined “destination”; why Snowbird didn’t follow Alta off the Ikon Base Pass and whether they’ll reconsider that decision; how much we can really blame the Ikon Pass for LCC crowding; why the Altabird pass soared in price for 2023-24; Snowbird’s “Freeloader” Pass; reflecting on Fast Tracks two years in; why the tram is excluded from Fast Tracks and whether that will continue to be the case; the potential for a Fast Tracks season pass at Snowbird (which Copper and Killington already sell); breaking down the proposed Little Cottonwood Canyon Gondola; “the highway only works as well as the worst car and bus in it”; why this lift would be the least-impactful solution to LCC traffic; paying for the gondola; how the gondola would alter the calculus of canyon closures; “the more people learned about gondola and how it works, the more they supported it”; the current state of the proposed Mary Ellen Gulch expansion; upgrading Wilbere to a new lift on a new line; potential to develop more green terrain at Snowbird; potential for a six-pack lift at Snowbird and where it could go; and phasing out the howitzers.      

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

From 1992 to 2002, Utah recorded around 3 million skier visits per winter, plus or minus a couple hundred thousand. Then the Olympics hit. And the world was like, “Damn.” Like aliens had landed and shown them how to teleport. Or turn pinecones into pterodactyls. Or something else that would be as amazing as seven giant ski areas that all average 300-plus inches of fluffy light snow per winter being situated two sitcoms’ drive-time from a major airport.

By the 2005-06 ski season, four years after the Games, Utah skier visits crested 4 million for the first time. Which seemed amazing until the Ikon Pass landed for the 2018-19 season, the same winter that Utah skier visits (coincidentally or not), blew past 5 million for the first time. Setting aside the Covid-shortened 2019-20 ski season, they just kept accelerating, hitting an astonishing 7.1 million skier visits last winter.

Whether you blame the Olympics or the megapasses or the fact that Utah’s population has grown by more than a million people (a 50 percent surge) over the past two decades, the state’s ski areas – and only 14 are public facilities that can manage any kind of volume – are getting crushed.

Luckily, unlike Washington, where a surging population has no choice but to deal with traffic or drive to Idaho, Utah has no shortage of potential solutions to its high-altitude cluster. Deer Valley recently outlined plans to nearly triple in size. A proposed passenger train could thin traffic on Park City’s cluttered roads. And the Utah Department of Transportation recently ruled that a gondola from the mouth of Little Cottonwood Canyon to the base of Snowbird and Alta was its preferred option to combat the untenable traffic on State Route 210.

The gondola would be eight miles long and run high over the road, skirting the firing squad of 50 avalanche paths that run through the canyon. The highway has “the highest uncontrolled avalanche hazard index of any major highway in the world,” University of Utah professor Jim Steenburgh told KSL News Radio in April. Snowbird is in favor of building the gondola. So is Alta. Here’s an overview:

And a little explainer video:

Just about anywhere else in the world, the gondola would be viewed for what it is: a rational solution to an untenable traffic problem. But this is U.S. America, and the lift has instead been recast as an existential threat to both the natural and manmade worlds. I can’t even mention it on Twitter without sending a dozen Brobots into fits of feral rage. It’s weird. SR-210 would never be built today – the most disruptive possible thing humans can build into the wilderness is a paved road. But this avalanche-prone, congested scar of concrete has been strangely lionized as the only acceptable conduit to the end of the canyon, while the gondola, a light-footprint machine with 22 towers that would run high above the rich natural environment on the canyon floor, is demonized.

That’s the reality that Snowbird officials are dealing with coming off a record snow season. In our conversation, Fields goes deep into this project, which is unquestionably the most controversial in U.S. American skiing. He has thoughts for the buses-will-fix-it crowd, for the environmental-doomsday crew, for the fiscal hawks fretting over the cost. I could write a book on this, but Fields makes a compelling argument to just build the damn thing.

Questions I wish I’d asked

I’ve always been curious why the Peruvian lift terminates where it does, rather than hoisting skiers up to High Baldy Traverse, or even making a turn up Baldy itself. The answer, I’m sure, is some combination of wind and desire to preserve a high-altitude hike-up experience. But that tunnel cutting over to Mineral couldn’t have been cheap, and I’d like to hear the story behind how they landed on that configuration.

What I got wrong

I said that Snowbird had secured approval for the proposed Mary Ellen Gulch expansion from the U.S. Forest Service, but that approval actually came from the Utah County Board of Adjustment.

Why you should ski Snowbird

Snowbird is the closest thing I’ve found to a perfect ski area. For capable skiers. Don’t bother if you’re a groomer god, or if you haven’t skied - or don’t like to ski - powder or bumps, or if carving Chip’s Run with half the population of Texas doesn’t sound fun (it isn’t). I say that not to be an a-hole, but because I don’t want you to be disappointed. Snowbird is only fun if you’re a very good skier. And by that I mean a very good skier on ungroomed terrain. Because the mountain doesn’t groom much. And if you’re not so good, but you think you are, well, the mountain will have some news for you.

It will have a message for you, regardless. This place is savage. Respect the double-blacks. Because Man do they mean it. There is no bailout on The Cirque, no cat-track oopsie-doodle exit. Move too far the wrong way and find yourself staring down Wilma’s or Mach Schnell, sheer cliffs disguised as ski trails, mandatory airs between you and your ride home. Chip’s is safe, but wander 50 yards off-trail and try not to miss the “Cliffs Ahead” signs. Because when Snowbird says “cliffs” they mean like 100-footers. And don’t ski alone into the trees – tree-well safety bulletins were practically invented for this place.

Please excuse me here. I’m usually allergic to tough-guy talk. But this place can kill you if you’re not careful. Once, a few years back, a group of us skied off Black Forest and into Organ Grinder, a swatch of wooded snowfields skier’s right off the Gad 2 lift. Organ Grinder, on the map, is a single run, a line arcing through Niehues whites. On the ground it is a multi-sheathed arsenal of fierce chutes stacked along a wooded face. After gliding through easy trees, we emerged at the top of one of these, a shot tilted at the approximate angle of a rocket launch. A four- or five-foot drop, a half-dozen steep turns to a wall of trees. Then the terrain cinched shut. The only exit a shot between trees and rock walls. Point and go.

The run is a single black diamond.

But put all that aside for a moment. Snowbird, and especially Snowbird together with Alta, should be the aspirational capstone for any skier driven to master this quirky sport. The vastness and quality and challenge of the terrain is absolutely unmatched anywhere in America. The two ski areas together are twice as large as Jackson and half as groomed as Palisades, with more and better snow than Whistler. And easier to get to than all of them. So go there. Just wait until you’re ready.

Podcast Notes

Miscellany on items discussed in the podcast:

On Jackson Hole’s tram

To lend context to our discussion around Snowbird’s tram upgrade, we talked quite a bit about Jackson Hole’s $31 tram project, which stretched from 2006 to ‘08. I could try to explain it myself, or you could just watch this series of videos:

On Powdr’s portfolio

Snowbird is one of 10 ski areas owned by Park City-based Powdr:

On the Mountain Collective

Fields said that one of his regrets was not joining the Mountain Collective’s inaugural class in 2012. The founding four were Alta, Jackson Hole, Aspen, and Palisades Tahoe. The pass cost $349 for two days at each ski area.

On the varying Snowbird/Alta access on Mountain Collective and Ikon

One of Mountain Collective’s selling points is that rather than combining Snowbird and Alta days, as Ikon Pass does, the pass gives you two days at each, with no blackouts. As Alta, Aspen, and others have backed out of the Ikon Base Pass, the Mountain Collective has become a potent Ikon Pass Base Base, with most of the pass’ top ski areas and a substantially lower price.

On rope-drop days on Mineral Basin

I don’t know if this is inspiring or hilarious or horrifying:

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing all year long. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 79/100 in 2023, and number 465 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

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Who

Dan Grider, General Manager of Great Bear, South Dakota

Recorded on

September 25, 2023

About Great Bear Ski Valley

Owned by: The City of Sioux Falls

Located in: Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Year founded: 1966

Pass affiliations: None

Reciprocal partners:

* 3 days at Seven Oaks

* 2 days at Mont du Lac

* 1 day each at Buck Hill, Powder Ridge MN, Snowstar

* Discounts at several other local ski areas

Closest neighboring ski areas: Mt. Crescent (2:37), Mount Kato (2:16)

Base elevation: 1,352 feet

Summit elevation: 1,534 feet

Vertical drop: 182 feet

Skiable Acres: 20

Average annual snowfall: 49 inches

Trail count: 15 (7 most difficult, 5 more difficult, 3 easiest)

Lift count: 3 (1 fixed-grip quad, 1 ropetow, 1 carpet – view Lift Blog’s inventory of Great Bear’s lift fleet)

Why I interviewed him

Frequent Storm readers have probably started to notice the pattern: every fourth or fifth podcast swerves off Megapass Boulevard and takes four state highways, a gravel path, a Little Caesars pit-stop, and ends in the Wal-Mart-sized parking lot of a Midwest ski area. Which often sits next to a Wal-Mart. Or a car dealership. Or, in the case of Great Bear, between a construction supply depot and the Sioux Falls chapter of the Izaak Walton League, a conservation society.

Why do I do this? My last three podcasts featured the leaders of Killington, Keystone, and Snowbird. The next one to drop into your inbox will be Northstar, a Vail Resorts staple that is the ninth-largest ski area in America. If you’re reading this newsletter, there is a high probability that you either already have skied all four of those, or plan to at some future point. Most of you will probably never ski Great Bear or anywhere else in South Dakota. Many of you will never ski the Midwest at all.

Which I understand. But there are several reasons I’ve worked Midwest ski areas into the podcast rotation, and why I will continue to do so for as long as The Storm exists:

* The episodes with the leaders of Caberfae, Boyne Mountain, The Highlands, and Nub’s Nob are for 18-year-old me. Or whatever version of 18-year-old me currently sits restlessly in the ski-mad but ignored flatlands between Ohio and the Dakotas. I devoured every ski magazine on the drugstore shelves of the 1990s, but if I could scrub 500 words of Midwest content from their combined catalogue each winter, I was lucky. I was dying – dying – for someone, anyone, to say something, anything, about the Midwest or Midwest skiing. Even a list of the top 10 ski areas in Michigan, with 50 words on each, would have made my year. But the ski mags, great as they were in those days, barely covered the rich and varied ski culture of New England, let alone the Midwest. I would have lost my goddamn mind had someone published a 90-minute conversation with the owner of the mysterious (to me at the time) Caberfae, with its hills upon hills of abandoned lifts and ever-changing footprint.

* The Midwest is home to one of the world’s great ski cultures. If you don’t believe me, go ski there. The region hosts 122 ski areas across 10 states, most of them in Michigan (43), Wisconsin (33), and Minnesota (21). But the volume matters less than the attitude: Midwest skiers are absolutely unpretentious. They’ll ski in hunting gear and Carhartts. They’ll ski on 25-year-old sticks they found at a yard sale for five dollars. They’ll ski when it’s 25 below zero. They’ll ski at night, in the rain, on a 200-vertical-foot bump running 60-year-old chairlifts. These are skiers, Man. They do it because it’s fun, because it’s right there, and because this is one of the few regions where skiing is still accessible to the masses. If you want to understand why every third Colorado liftie you meet is from Grand Rapids or Madison or Duluth, go ski Canonsburg or Cascade or Spirit Mountain. It will make sense in about five seconds.

* Because the Midwest has so many owner-operators, and because it takes a certain sort of swaggering competence to run something as temperamental and wild as a 300-vertical-foot, city-adjacent ski area with 17 chairlifts all built before the Reagan Administration, these tend to be very good interviews. The top five most-downloaded Storm Skiing Podcasts of 2023 are Alterra CEO Jared Smith, Holiday Valley President Dennis Eshbaugh, Pacific Group Resorts CMO Christian Knapp, Indy Pass President Doug Fish, and Whitecap Mountains owner David Dziuban. Those first four are fairly predictable (Holiday Valley is a bit of an outlier, as the resort heavily shared the conversation), but the last one is remarkable. Both because only five people have actually skied at Whitecap, and because the 33 podcasts that I’ve pushed out this year include many prominent and popular megapass headliners with well-known and highly respected leaders. Why did the Whitecap podcast land so hard? I can’t say for certain, but I suspect because it is completely raw, completely authentic, and absolutely unconcerned with what anyone will think or how they will react to it. Dziuban, an industry veteran on a mission to salvage a dying business from the scrapyard, has no boss, nothing to lose, and no one to impress. It’s an incredible conversation (listen for yourself). And while Dziuban is a special character, bolstered by a fearless Chicago moxie and the accent to match, every single guest I have on from the Midwest brings some version of that no-b******t attitude. It’s fun.

* I’m from there. I grew up in Michigan. Many of my best friends still live there. I return frequently, hold Michigan football season tickets, camp in the UP every April, still rock the Old English “D” ballcap. I moved to the East Coast in 2002, but the longer I’m gone, the more I admire the region’s matter-of-fact work ethic, the down-to-earth worldview, the way Midwesterners simplify the complicated (next time you ride a chairlift with a Michigander at Keystone or Breckenridge, ask them how they got to Colorado – there’s a better than 50 percent chance that they drove). Midwest skiing is the reason I love skiing, and I will always be grateful for these hills, no matter how small they are. Plus, I gotta represent.

So, there you go. Skip this ep if you want. But you shouldn’t, because it’s very good.

What we talked about

Great Bear’s record-shattering 2022-23 ski season for skier visits; how the ski area has been able to recruit and retain staff in a difficult labor market; staying open into April; the importance of Christmas Week; memorializing Roxie Johnson; Great Bear in the 1970s; the quirks of running a city-owned ski area; the appeal of working at a small ski area for decades; what it means to a flatland city to have a ski area; the best age to make skiers; “if you can sit, you can tube”; “The nice thing about our profitability is that there’s no owner here, so our money just stays in the bank”; contemplating a new chalet; the location, size, and timeline for Great Bear’s potential expansion; the glacial phenomenon that left Great Bear in its wake; reflecting on the Covid season; what it means for a small municipal Midwestern ski area to put in a brand-new chairlift; why the outgoing Borvig quad had to go, even though it was “a tank”; the brilliance and cost-effectiveness of high-speed ropetows; scarves and ropetows don’t mix; the story behind the “Children’s Dental Center Beginner Area”; the power of tubing; Keeping season pass and lift ticket prices low; the story behind the season passholders-only timeslot on Sunday; holding strong on wicket tickets; free buddy tickets for passholders; Flurry the mascot; and the Indy Pass.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

Like many small ski areas, Great Bear publishes a periodic newsletter to complement its social media presence. I subscribe to as many of these email digests as I am aware of, as they often contain nuggets that larger resorts would celebrate with a big campaign and press release. Great Bear’s April newsletter hooked me with this:

We are excited to finally start sharing with you our plans for future expansion! Efforts to expand have been in the works since 2013. Our top priority is adding another 7-acres of skiable downhill terrain with a second chairlift. Additionally, we are working on plans to significantly expand the lodge.

As a city park, our next step is presenting a detailed plan to the Parks Board next month. We appreciate all your enthusiasm for a bigger and better Great Bear. Projects of this size take an enormous amount of work and collaboration. We are so grateful for our partnership with the City of Sioux Falls and all the community support!

An expansion project at a municipal ski area marooned in a state with a population of fewer than 900,000 people is a big deal. It means the place is well-run and well-cared-for, and most likely a community staple worthy of some national attention. The fact that Great Bear was served not by a collection of ropetows and a 60-year-old Hall double, but by a carpet and a brand-new Skytrac quad, complemented with a high-speed Park Brah ropetow, were further evidence of a highly capable management team.

Intrigued, I reached out. It took a minute, but we set up the podcast with Grider, who’s been running the bump since 1992. He’s a great storyteller with an upbeat disposition and a good mind for business, and he convincingly lays out a long-term future for Great Bear that will ensure the mountain’s status as a skier assembly line for many generations to come. If you love skiing, you’ll enjoy this one.

Questions I wish I’d asked

I’d meant to ask about this “I Ski 182 Vert Campaign,” which profiles locals who have put Great Bear at the center of their recreational lives:

Why you should ski Great Bear

There are different ways to think about yourself as a skier. One is as a sort of progressionist. Like a student working their way through school, you graduate from one grade to the next. Always forward, never back. So a Jersey kid may learn at Campgaw as a 6-year-old, join after-school ski bus trips to Mountain Creek in junior high, take weekend trips to Mount Snow in high school, and spend college spring breaks at Palisades Tahoe. But by the time he moves to the Upper East Side and has two kids of his own, he only skis on his annual trips to Deer Valley. He sits on his laptop in the lodge as the kids run beginner-chair laps at Thunder Ridge. He’s not going to bother with this little stuff – he’s graduated.

But this is a strange way to think about skiing. We don’t apply such logic to other facets of our lives. Consider food – sometimes you have the inch-thick porterhouse on a special-occasion outing, sometimes you have Taco Bell, and sometimes you eat Pop-Tarts on your drive to work. But I don’t know anyone who, once they’ve dined at Peter Luger, never deigns to eat a hotdog again. Sometimes you just need to fuel up.

I approach skiing in the same way. A dozen or so days per season, I’m eating steak: Snowbird or Big Sky or Vail or Heavenly. But since I’m not content to ski 12 days per winter, I also eat a lot of pasta. Let’s call that New England and the Catskills on their best days, or just about anyplace with fresh snow. And I snack a lot, skiing’s equivalent of a bag of Doritos: a half-open Poconos bump, a couple hours on a Sunday morning at Mountain Creek, a Michigan T-bar when I’m visiting family for Christmas. My 6-year-old son is in a seasonal program at 250-vertical-foot Mt. Peter in New York. The vast majority of the parents sit in the lodge on their phones while the kids ski. But I ski, lapping the Ol’ Pete double chair, which accesses the whole mountain and rarely has a line. When his lesson is over, we often ski together. It’s fun.

Everyone funnels the joys of skiing through different lenses. The lift or the freefall, the high-altitude drama, the après electricity of crowded places and alcohol. For me, the draw is a combination of dynamic movement and novelty, an exploration of new places, or familiar places under the changing conditions wrought by weather and crowds. Even though Mt. Peter is familiar, it’s a little different place every week.

Which takes us to Great Bear, a 182-foot bump that is, most likely, nowhere near you. I’m not suggesting you cancel your Tahoe reservations and book yourself into the Sioux Falls Best Western. But there are two groups of skiers who ought to consider this place: locals, and cross-country road-trippers.

If you live in Sioux Falls and are over the age of 16, you probably consider yourself a progressionist. Maybe you learned to ski at Great Bear, but now it’s too small for you to bother with. You’ll ski your five days per year at Copper Mountain and be content with it. But why? You have a ski area right there. The season pass is $265. Why ski five days per year when you can ski 25? With that Great Bear season pass, you can ski every Saturday morning and two nights a week after work. Consider it your gym. The runs are short, but the sensation of dynamic movement is still there. It’s skiing. And while it’s (typically) a materially a worse form of skiing than your high-altitude Colorado version of the sport, it’s also in many ways better, with less attitude, less pretense, less entitlement, less ego. Just kids having fun. It’s fulfilling in a different way.

The second group is those of us who live east of America’s best versions of skiing. Most East Coast skiers will fly west, but the most adventurous will drive. You see them on Facebook, posting elaborate three- or six-week Google maps dotted all over the west. But why wait until you arrive in Colorado or Wyoming or Montana to start skiing? There are ski areas all along your route. Great Bear sits two miles from Interstate 90, the 3,021-mile-long route that runs from Boston to Seattle. So why not scoot through Kissing Bridge, Buffalo Ski Center, and Peek’N Peak, New York; Alpine Valley, Boston Mills, and Brandywine in Ohio; Swiss Valley, Michigan; Four Lakes and Villa Olivia, Illinois; and Cascade, Devil’s Head, and LaCrosse, Wisconsin en route? Yes, you want to hurry west. But the drive will take several days no matter what. Why not mix in a little novelty along the way?

My first trip west was over Christmas break in the mid-90s, a 22-hour bender from Michigan to Summit County, Colorado with my buddy Andy. We’d booked a Super 8 or some similar thing in Lincoln, Nebraska, at our approximate halfway point. We rode into Nebraska sometime after dark, but early enough for a night session at Nebraski, a run-down hundred-footer between Omaha and Lincoln. The chairlift coughed up the bump like a cartoon contraption and skiers yard-saled all over the hill and it was just about the most amazing scene you could imagine. Four days later a two-footer hammered Copper, dropping an exclamation-point powder day onto our first Rocky Mountain adventure. Nearly three decades later, when we reminisce on that trip, we talk about that Copper pow day, but long-gone Nebraski (I don’t think the place made it out of the ‘90s alive), is an equal part of the legend.

A Great Bear stop would be a little different, of course. This is a modern ski area, with a 2021 Skytrac quad and modern snowmaking and solid financial backing. It will make you feel good about skiing and about its future. It may even be a highlight of your trip.

Podcast Notes

On the remoteness of Great Bear

It is impossible to overstate how important Great Bear is to curating skiers among the 300,000-ish residents of greater Sioux Falls. There are two other ski areas in South Dakota – Terry Peak and resurgent, probably semi-private Deer Mountain – but they sit nearly six hours west, in the Black Hills. Mt. Crescent, Iowa, sits two-and-a-half hours down I-29. Mt. Kato, Minnesota is two hours east. And that’s about it. If you’re a teenager in Sioux Falls without Great Bear, you may as well be a teenager in Fort Lauderdale. You’re probably never going to ski.

That wasn’t always true. A 175-vertical-foot (at most) bump with the amazing name of Hole In The Mountain once operated with up to three ropetows near Lake Benton, an hour north, according to the Midwest Lost Ski Areas Project. But that’s been gone for decades.  

On Great Bear’s potential expansion

Great Bear is in the process of a sizeable expansion, which could add a second chairlift and several more trails. Great Bear provided this preliminary map, which shows a new lift sitting adjacent to the learning area and a new entrance road and chalet:

On the outcome of the Sept. 25 masterplan meeting

Grider referenced a meeting he had coming up “later this week,” which means last week, since we recorded this on Sept. 25. I followed up on Sunday to see if the meeting had thrown any landmines in the way of Great Bear’s potential expansion. It had not. The reception from local officials had been optimistic and enthusiastic, Grider said.

“What we've got to do here in the next six weeks is they're going to formalize the plans and we'll get some drawings, we'll get a rendering,” Grider told me. “Then we go in front of the park board and we just keep our foot on the gas pedal.”

On the stem in the middle of Great Bear’s old Borvig chair

Great Bear’s spanking-new Skytrac replaced a gorgeous but problematic Borvig centerpole quad. Luckily, Lift Blog documented the old lift before the ski area demolished it.

On high-speed ropetows and Hyland Hills

I remain obsessed with high-speed ropetows as the ultimate solution to terrain park-driven congestion. They’re fast, they’re cheap, and they tamp down liftlines by drawing Parkbrahs away from the workhorse chairlifts. Here’s one I documented at Spirit Mountain, Minnesota last season:

And here’s one at Hyland Hills, which Grider mentions:

On me not knowing who Mary Hart is

At one point in the podcast, Dan Grider asked me if I knew who Mary Hart was. I said I did not, which was true. It turns out that she is quite famous. She was Miss South Dakota 1970 and hosted a show called Entertainment Tonight for 29 years. I have never watched that show, nor was I aware of its existence until I looked up Ms. Hart on Wikipedia.

This probably sounds dubious to you. But there is something wrong with my brain. I simply do not process information having to do with pop culture or celebrities. I say this not out of proud ignorance, but as a matter of observable fact. I have always been this way. Hit me with a well-known movie quote, and I will stare at you as though you just spoke to me in Elvish.

An anecdote to illustrate the larger void in which I exist: my wife and I began watching a show called Suits the other day. She asked me if I recognized the young woman who plays a paralegal on this show. I said no. She asked if I knew who Meghan Markle was. I said no. She asked if I knew who Prince [can’t remember the name] was. I said no. Because apparently they’re married. And that matters somehow. Though I’m not exactly sure why. Though I am curious why we still have princes in this world, because I thought we got rid of them when we exiled the dragons back in like 1502 or whenever.

We all have gaps, right? Or shortcomings. One of mine, and there are many, is aggressive indifference to things that I find boring. It’s probably how some of you feel when I write about skiing in Ohio. Like, Man, get me to the next thing.

On charging the same for kids as adults

Most ski areas kick you a discount for a kids’ lift ticket. And why not? Expenses add up for a family, and when you start multiplying everything by three or four, you get to a scary price range pretty quickly. So some of you may have been surprised when Grider mentions, during our interview, that Great Bear doesn’t offer discounted lift tickets for kids.

There’s a simple reason for that. A discounted kids ticket doesn’t do much for you when most of your clientele is children. Great Bear is one of our skier factories, where busloads of kids prime themselves for roadtrips to Colorado 10 years from now. So the parents don’t need the incentive – they’re just signing the waiver to get the kid on the ski bus.

Plenty of ski areas follow a similar model. Mount Peter, where my 6-year-old participates in a seasonal program, is currently selling adult season passes for $499, and kids’ passes for $479. Nearby Campgaw posts similar rates: $389 for adults, $359 for kids. But it makes sense to minimize the discount: both are 300-ish-foot bumps that are dwarfed by nearby Mountain Creek, a thousand-footer with a killer terrain park and high-speed lifts (and, incidentally, a less-expensive season pass). They can’t compete from a terrain point of view, but they can offer something that Creek can’t: an unintimidating atmosphere to learn in. And the skiers who mostly need such a thing is kids. And if Mt. Peter and Campgaw discount kids too much, their whole model falls apart.

In the case of Great Bear, well, the season pass is currently $265. This winter’s lift ticket price will be $38. So, really, who cares?

On Flurry the Mascot

If your ski area doesn’t have a mascot, it should:

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 81/100 in 2023, and number 467 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

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Who

Amy Ohran, Vice President and General Manager of Northstar, California

Recorded on

October 2, 2023

About Northstar

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: EPR Properties, operated by Vail Resorts

Located in: Truckee, California

Year founded: 1972

Pass affiliations:

* Epic Pass: unlimited

* Epic Local Pass: unlimited with holiday blackouts

* Tahoe Local: unlimited with holiday blackouts

* Tahoe Value: unlimited with holiday and Saturday blackouts

* Epic Day Pass: access with all resorts and 32-resorts tiers

Closest neighboring ski areas: Boreal (:21), Tahoe Donner (:22), Palisades Tahoe (:25), Diamond Peak (:25), Soda Springs (:25), Kingvale (:27), Sugar Bowl (:28), Donner Ski Ranch (:29), Mt. Rose (:30), Homewood (:35), Heavenly (:57) - travel times vary considerably pending traffic, weather, and time of year.

Base elevation: 6,330 feet (at the village)

Summit elevation: 8,610 feet (top of Mt. Pluto)

Vertical drop: 2,280 feet

Skiable Acres: 3,170 acres

Average annual snowfall: 350 inches

Trail count: 100 (27% advanced, 60% intermediate, 13% beginner)

Lift count: 20 (1 six-passenger gondola, 1 pulse gondola, 1 six/eight-passenger chondola, 1 high-speed six pack, 6 high-speed quads, 1 fixed-grip quad, 2 triples, 1 platter, 1 ropetow, 5 carpets – view Lift Blog’s inventory of Northstar’s lift fleet)

Why I interviewed her

I am slowly working my way through the continent’s great ski regions. Aspen, Vail, Beaver Creek, Ski Cooper, Keystone, Breckenridge, and A-Basin along the I-70 corridor (Copper is coming). Snowbird, Solitude, Deer Valley, Sundance, and Snowbasin in the Wasatch (Park City is next). Jay Peak, Smugglers’ Notch, Bolton Valley, Mad River Glen, Sugarbush, and Killington in Northern Vermont.

I’m a little behind in Tahoe. Before today, the only entrants into this worthy tome have been with the leaders of Palisades Tahoe and Heavenly. But I’m working my way around the lake. Northstar today. Mount Rose in November. I’ll get to the rest as soon as I’m able (you can always access the full podcast archive, and view the upcoming schedule, here or from the stormskiing.com homepage).

I don’t only cover megaresorts, of course, and the episodes with family-owned ski area operators always resonate deeply with my listeners. Many of you would prefer that I focus my energies solely on these under-covered gems. But corporate megaresorts matter a lot. They are where the vast majority of skier visits occur, and therefore are the backdrop to most skiers’ wintertime stories. I personally love skiing them. They tend to be vast and varied, with excellent lift networks and gladed kingdoms mostly ignored by the masses. The “corporate blandness” so abhorred by posturing Brobots is, in practice, a sort of urban myth of the mountains. Vail Mountain and Stowe have as much quirk and character as Alta and Mad River Glen. Anyone who tells you different either hasn’t skied them all, or is confusing popularity with soullessness.

Every ski area guards terrain virtues that no amount of marketing can beat out of it. Northstar has plenty: expansive glades, big snowfalls, terrific park, long fall-line runs. Unfortunately, the mountain is the LA Clippers of Lake Tahoe, overshadowed, always, by big Palisades, the LA Lakers of big-time Cali skiing.

But Northstar is a hella good ski area, as any NoCal shredder who’s honest with themselves will admit. It’s not KT-22, but it isn’t trying to be. Most skier fantasize about lapping the Mothership, just as, I suppose, many playground basketball players fantasize about dunking from the freethrow line. In truth, most are better off lobbing shots from 15 feet out, just as most skiers are going to have a better day off Martis or Backside at Northstar than off the beastly pistes five miles southwest. But that revelation, relatively easy to arrive at, can be hard for progression-minded skiers to admit. And Northstar, because of that, often doesn’t get the credit it deserves. But it’s worth a deeper look.

What we talked about

Tahoe’s incredible 2022-23 winter; hey where’d our trail signs go?; comparing last year’s big winter to the record 2016-17 season; navigating the Cottonwoods in a VW Bug; old-school Cottonwoods; rock-climbing as leadership academy; Bend in the 1990s; how two of Tahoe’s smallest ski areas stay relevant in a land of giants; the importance of parks culture to Northstar; trying to be special in Tahoe’s all-star lineup; Northstar’s natural wind protection; who really owns Northstar; potential expansions on Sawtooth Ridge, Lookout Mountain, and Sawmill; potential terrain expansion within the current footprint; last year’s Comstock lift upgrade; contemplating the future of the Rendezvous lift; which lift upgrade could come next; the proposed Castle Peak transport gondola; paid parking; the Epic Pass; a little-known benefit of the Tahoe Local Pass; the impact of Saturday blackouts; and Tōst.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

Vail Resorts’ 2022 Epic Lift upgrade struck me as a mind-bending exercise. Not just because the company was attempting to build 21 new lifts in a single summer (they managed to complete 18), but because that number represents a fraction of Vail’s hundreds of lifts across its 37 North American resorts. Vail Mountain alone houses 18 high-speed chairlifts and two gondolas. Park City owns 16 detachables. Whistler has six or nine gondolas – depending on how you count them – and 13 high-speed chairs. You can keep counting through Heavenly, Breckenridge, Keystone – how do you even maintain such a sprawling network, let alone continue to upgrade it?

Northstar managed to snag a piece of Vail’s largess, securing a four-to-six replacement for the Comstock Express. It was just the third major lift upgrade since Vail bought the joint in 2010, following the 2011 addition of the Promised Land Express quad and the 2015 replacement of the Big Springs Gondola. So why Comstock? And what’s next for a ski area with a trio of high-speed quads (Arrow, Backside, Vista), that are approaching that 30-year expiration date for first-generation detachable lifts?

Tahoe is also one of several U.S. ski regions coping with a generational crisis of untenable congestion and cost. The culprits, in no particular order, are an over-reliance on individual automobiles as the primary mechanism of ski resort access, megapasses that enable and empower more frequent skiing, a Covid-driven exodus from cities, a permanent shift to remote work, short-term rentals choking local housing stock, and reflexive opposition to any development of any kind by an array of NIMBYs and leaf defenders.

Northstar, an enormous and easy-to-access megaresort owned by the world’s largest ski area operator and seated in America’s most populous state, sits in the bullseye of several of these megatrends. The resort is responding with a big toolbox, tiering access across a variety of Epic Passes, implementing a partial paid parking plan, and continuing a masterplan that would increase on-mountain beds and decrease automobile congestion. Like every ski area, it’s a work in progress, never quite finished and never quite perfect, but tiptoeing maybe a little closer to it every year.

What I got wrong

About the relative size of Northstar

I noted in Ohran’s podcast intro that Northstar was America’s ninth largest ski area. That’s technically still true, but once Steamboat officially opens its Mahogany Ridge expansion this winter, the Alterra-owned resort will shoot up to the number eight spot, kicking Northstar down to number 10. Looking a few years down the road, Deer Valley is set to demote Northstar to number 11, once Mt. Fancypants completes its 3,700-acre expansion (boosting the mountain to 5,726 acres), and takes the fourth-place spot between Big Sky and Vail Mountain.

About the coming ski season

I noted that Northstar was opening, “probably around Thanksgiving.” The resort’s scheduled opening date is Nov. 17.

About Powdr’s Tahoe complex

I asked Ohran about her experience running Powdr’s “three ski areas” in Tahoe, before correcting that to “two ski areas.” The confusion stemmed from the three distinct brands that Powdr operates in Tahoe: the Soda Springs ski area, the Boreal ski area, and the Woodward terrain park. While these are distinct brands, Woodward’s winter facilities are part of Boreal ski area:

Why you should ski Northstar

The Brobots won’t do much to surprise or interest you. That’s why they’re the Brobots. Rote takes, recited like multiplication tables, lacking nuance or context, designed to pledge allegiance to Brobot Nation. The Brobots hate Vail and the Ikon Pass. They despise “corporate” skiing, without ever defining what that is. They rage against ski-town congestion and traffic, while reflexively opposing any solutions that would require change of any kind. They worship dive bars, weed, and beanie caps. They despise tourists, chairlift safety bars, slopeside condos, and paid parking of any kind. They are the Brobots.

Lake Tah-Bro is a subspecies of Brobotus Americanus. Lake Tah-Bro wishes you weren’t here, but since you are, he wants you to understand his commandments. One of which is this: “Flatstar” is not cool. Like you. Real-ass skiers ski Palisades (steep), Alpine (chill), or Kirkwood (wild). But OK, if you must, go see for yourself. Tah-Bro won’t be joining you. He has to go buy a six-pack of craft beer to celebrate his six-month anniversary of moving here from Virginia, while tapping out a Tweet reminding everyone that he’s a local.

It must be an exhausting way to live, having to constantly remind everyone how ridiculously cool you are. But luckily for you, I don’t care about being cool. I’m a dad with two kids. I drive a minivan. I drink Miller Lite and rarely drive past a Taco Bell. My musical tastes are straightforward and mainstream. I track my ski days on an app and take a lot of pictures. I am not 100 percent sure which brand of ski boots I own (I trusted the bootfitter). My primary Brobot trait is that I like to ski mostly off-piste. Otherwise you can call me Sir Basic Bro. Or don’t. I won’t see it anyway – I stopped reading social media comments a long time ago.

Brah do you have a point here? Yes. My point is this: I am supremely qualified to tell you that Northstar is a great ski area. It is huge. It is interesting. It has more glades than you could manage if you spent all winter trying. It is threaded with an excellent high-speed lift network that, during the week, rarely has an over-abundance of skiers to actually ride it. You can cruise the wide-open or sail the empty trees. Park Brahs can park-out on the Vista Park Brah.

But if you take my advice and lap the place for an afternoon and find that it’s just too flat for your radness, simply ask Ski Patrol if you can borrow a pair of scissors. Then cut the sleeves off your jacket and all under-layers, and descend each run in an arms-up posture of supreme muscle-itude. Everyone will be aware of and in awe of your studliness, and know that you are only skiing Flatstar as a sort of joke, the mountain a prop to your impossibly cool lifestyle. Your Instapost followers will love it.

Podcast Notes

On Tahoe’s competitive landscape

Tahoe hosts one of the densest clusters of ski areas in North America. Here are the 16 currently in operation:

On Northstar’s masterplan

Northstar’s 2017 masterplan outlines several potential expansions, each of which we discuss in the podcast:

On the “My Epic” app

Ohran referenced Vail’s new My Epic app, which I devoted a section to explaining in the article accompanying my recent Keystone podcast. The Epic Pass website notes that the app will be “launching in October.”

On Northstar’s original brand campaign

I couldn’t find any relics from Northstar’s 1972 “Everything in the middle of nowhere” ad campaign. I did, however, find this 1978 trailmap noting that all-day adult lift tickets cost $13:

That’s $64.02 adjusted for inflation, in case you’re wondering.

The Sierra Sun ran a nice little history of Northstar last year, in honor of the resort’s 50-year anniversary:

On Dec. 22, 1972, Northstar-at-Tahoe began spinning its original five lifts, operating under the motto “Everything in the middle of nowhere.” The first lifts were given alphabetic names A, B, C, and D. A T-chair provided access to mid-mountain from the village. The cost for an adult to ski for the day in 1972 was $8, gear could be rented for $7.50, and a room for the night at the resort was $30. …

The 1980s brought further growth to the resort and in 1988 the first snowboarders took their turns at the resort. That year, George N. Gillett Jr., president of Colorado’s Vail Associates purchased Northstar-at-Tahoe. By 1992, Gillett had run into financial troubles and lost Vail Associates. Gillett managed to come away with enough resources to form Booth Creek Ski Holdings, Inc. Gillett’s new company focused on real estate development and creating multi-season resorts. In 1996, the company acquired Northstar-at-Tahoe, Sierra-at-Tahoe, and Bear Mountain for $127 million, and began developing the Big Springs area at Northstar. …

The new millennium brought with it a joint venture between Booth Creek Ski Holdings and East West Partners with the aim to complete the resort’s real estate and mountain development plan. The first phase of the project opened in 2004 and included the foundation for the village along with the completion of Iron Horse North, Iron Horse South, and the Great Bear Lodge buildings. The ice rink and surrounding commercial space were completed during this time. Skiers and riders were also treated to new terrain with the installation of Lookout Lift.

From 2005 through 2008 work continued at the base of the mountain to complete the gondola building along with the Catamount and Big Horn buildings in the village. Collaboration between East West Partners and Hyatt Corp also began at this time, leading to the Northstar Lodge Hyatt project. The first building was started in May 2007 and completed in December 2008. Along with these came the Village Swim & Fitness center and the Highlands Gondola from the Northstar Lodge to The Ritz-Carlton Hotel and neighboring building.

In 2010, Vail Resorts, Inc., entered the fray and purchased Northstar-at-Tahoe from Booth Creek for $63 million, and later renamed it Northstar California Resort.

On Matt Jones

Ohran mentions Kirkwood GM Matt Jones once or twice during the pod, which we recorded on Oct. 2. This past Tuesday, Oct. 10, Alterra announced that they had hired Jones as the new president and chief operating officer of Stratton, Vermont.

On that deep deep winter

When I was skiing around Northstar in March, I snagged a bunch of hey-where’d-the-world-go shots of stuff buried in snow:

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 85/100 in 2023, and number 471 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

This podcast hit paid subscribers’ inboxes on Oct. 23. It dropped for free subscribers on Oct. 30. To receive future pods as soon as they’re live, and to support independent ski journalism, please consider an upgrade to a paid subscription. You can also subscribe to the free tier below:

Who

Matt Vohs, General Manager of Cascade Mountain, Wisconsin

Recorded on

October 10, 2023

About Cascade Mountain

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: The Walz family

Located in: Portage, Wisconsin

Year founded: 1962

Pass affiliations: None

Reciprocal partners: None

Closest neighboring ski areas: Devil’s Head (:20), Christmas Mountain Village (:30), Tyrol Basin (1:00)

Base elevation: 820 feet

Summit elevation: 1,280 feet

Vertical drop: 460 feet

Skiable Acres: 176

Average annual snowfall: 50-60 inches

Trail count: 48 (23% advanced, 40% intermediate, 37% beginner)

Lift count: 10 (2 high-speed quads, 3 fixed-grip quads, 1 triple, 2 doubles, 1 ropetow, 1 carpet – view Lift Blog’s inventory of Cascade’s lift fleet)

Why I interviewed him

Contrary to what you may imagine, Midwesterners do not pass their winters staring wistfully at the western horizon, daydreaming only of the Back Bowls and Wasatch tram rides. They’re not, God help us, New Yorkers. Because unlike the high-dollar Manhattanite with weeks booked at Deer Valley and Aspen, Midwesterners ski even when they’re not on vacation. Sure, they’ll tag that week in Summit County or Big Sky (driving there, most likely, from Grand Rapids or Cincinnati or Des Moines), but they’ll fill in the calendar in between. They’ll ski on weekends. They’ll ski after work. They’ll ski with their kids and with their buddies and with their cousins. They’ll ski in hunter orange and in Vikings jerseys and in knit caps of mysterious vintage. They’ll ski with a backpack full of High Life and a crockpot tucked beneath each arm and a pack of jerky in their coat pocket. “Want some,” they’ll offer as you meet them for the first time on the chairlift, a 55-year-old Hall double with no safety bar. “My buddy got an elk permit this year.”

They ski because it’s fun and they ski because it’s cold and they ski because winter is 16 months long. But mostly they ski because there are ski areas everywhere, and because they’re pretty affordable. Even Vail doesn’t break double digits at its Midwest bumps, with peak-day lift tickets reaching between $69 and $99 at the company’s 10 ski areas spread between Missouri and Ohio.

Because of this affordable density, the Midwest is still a stronghold for the blue-collar ski culture that’s been extinguished in large parts of the big-mountain West. You may find that notion offensive - that skiing, in this rustic form, could be more approachable. If so, you’re probably not from the Midwest. These people are hard to offend. Michigan-born Rabbit, AKA Eminem, channels this stubborn regional pride in 8 Mile’s closing rap battle, when he obliterates nemesis Papa Doc by flagrantly itemizing his flaws.

“I know everything he’s got to say against me” may as well be the mantra of the Midwest skier. In the U.S. ski universe, Colorad-Bro is Papa Doc, standing dumbfounded after Wisco Bro just turned his sword around on himself:

This guy ain’t no m***********g MC

I know everything he’s got to say against me

My hill is short, It snows 30 inches per year

I do ski with a coffee Thermos filled with beer

My boys do ski in camouflage

I do ride Olin 210s I found in my Uncle Jack’s garage

I did hit an icy jump

And biff like a chump

And my last chairlift ride was 45 seconds long

I’m still standing here screaming “Damn let’s do it again!”

You can’t point out the idiosyncratic shortcomings of Midwest skiing better than a Midwest skier. They know. And they love the whole goddamn ball of bologna.

But that enthusiasm wouldn’t track if Wisconsin’s 33 ski areas were 33 hundred-foot ropetow bumps. As in any big ski state to its east or west, Wisco has a hierarchy, a half-dozen surface lift-only operations; a smattering of 200-footers orbiting Milwaukee; a few private clubs; and, at the top of the food chain, a handful of sprawling operations that can keep a family entertained for a weekend: Granite Peak, Whitecap, Devil’s Head, and Cascade. And, just as I’m working my way through the Wasatch and Vermont and Colorado by inviting the heads of those region’s ski areas onto the podcast, so I’m going to (do my best to) deliver conversations with the leaders of the big boys in the Upper Midwest. This is my sixth Wisconsin podcast, and my 15th focused on the Midwest overall (five in Michigan, one each in Indiana, Ohio, and South Dakota, plus my conversation with Midwest Family Ski Resorts head Charles Skinner – view them all here). I’ve also got a pair of Minnesota episodes (Lutsen and Buck Hill), and another Michigan (Snowriver) one booked over the coming months.

I don’t record these episodes just to annoy Colorado-Bro (though that is pretty funny), or because I’m hanging onto the Midwest ski areas that stoked my rabid obsession with skiing (though I am), or because the rest of the ski media has spent 75 years ignoring them (though they have). I do it because the Midwest has some damn good ski areas, run by some damn smart people, and they have a whole different perspective on what makes a good and interesting ski area. And finding those stories is kind of the whole point here.

What we talked about

Cascade’s season-opening plan; summer improvements; how much better snowmaking is getting, and how fast; improving the load area around Cindy Pop; Cascade’s unique immoveable neighbor; the funky fun Daisy mid-mountain parking lot; upgrading the Mogul Monster lift; why Cascade changed the name to “JL2”; Cascade’s “Midwest ski-town culture”; Devil’s Head; when I-94 is your driveway; why JL2 is a fixed-grip lift, even though it runs between two high-speed quads; other lift configurations Cascade considered for JL2; the dreaded icing issue that can murder high-speed lifts; reminiscing on old-school Cascade – “if the hill was open, we were here”; Christmas Mountain; a brief history of the Walz family’s ownership; a commitment to independence; whether slopeside lodging could ever be an option; which lifts could be next in line for upgrades; whether Cascade considered a midstation for Cindy Pop; the glory of high-speed ropetows and where Cascade may install another one; the summer of two lift installations; the neverending saga of Cascade’s expansion and what might happen next; the story behind the “Cindy Pop” and “B-Dub” lift names and various trail names; why Cindy Pop is a detachable lift and B-Dub is a fixed-grip, even though they went in the same summer; additional expansion opportunities; why Cascade hasn’t (and probably won’t), joined a multi-mountain ski pass; and Cascade’s best idea from Covid-era operations.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

The National Ski Areas Association asked me to lead a panel of general managers at their annual convention in Savannah last spring. I offered them a half-dozen topics, and we settled on “megapass holdouts”: large (for their area), regionally important ski areas that could join the Indy Pass – and, in many cases, the Epic and Ikon passes – but have chosen not to. It’s a story I’d been meaning to write in the newsletter for a while, but had never gotten to.

We wanted nationwide representation. In the west, we locked in Mt. Baker CEO Gwyn Howat and Mt. Rose GM Greg Gavrilets. For the eastern rep, I tapped Laszlo Vajtay, owner of Plattekill, an 1,100-footer tucked less than three hours north of New York City (but nearly unknown to its mainstream skier populations). In the Midwest, Cascade was my first choice.

Why? Because it’s a bit of an outlier. While the Ikon Pass ignores the Midwest outside of Boyne’s two Michigan properties, opportunities for megapass membership are ample. Indy Pass has signed 32 partners in the region, and Vail has added 10 more to its Epic Pass. Five of the remainder are owned by an outfit called Wisconsin Resorts, which has combined them on its own multi-mountain pass. The model works here, is my point, and most of the region’s large ski areas have either opted into the Indy Pass, or been forced onto a different megapass by their owner. But not Cascade. Here is a mountain with a solid, modern lift fleet; a sprawling and varied trail network; and what amounts to its own interstate exit. This joint would not only sell Indy Passes – it would be a capable addition to Ikon or Epic, selling passes to voyaging locals in the same way that Camelback and Windham do in the East and Big Bear does in the West. And they know it.

But Cascade stands alone. No pass partnerships. No reciprocal deals. Just a mountain on its own, selling lift tickets. What a concept.

A core operating assumption of The Storm is that multi-mountain passes are, mostly, good for skiers and ski areas alike. But I have not made much of an effort to analyze counter-arguments that could challenge this belief. The Savannah panel was an exercise in doing exactly that. All four mountain leaders made compelling cases for pass independence. Since that conversation wasn’t recorded, however, I wanted to bring a more focused version of it to you. Here you go.

What I got wrong

I said that “I grew up skiing in Michigan” – that isn’t exactly correct. While I did grow up in Michigan, and that’s where I started skiing, I never skied until I was a teenager.

Why you should ski Cascade

Let’s say you decided to ski the top five ski areas in every ski state in America. That would automatically drop Cascade onto your list. Even in a state with 33 ski areas, Cascade easily climbs into the top five. It’s big. The terrain is varied. It’s well managed. The infrastructure is first-rate. And every single year, it gets better.

Yes, Cascade is consistent and deliberate in its lift and snowmaking upgrades, but no single change has improved the experience more than limiting lift ticket sales. This was a Covid-era change that the ski area stuck with, Vohs says, after realizing that giving a better experience to fewer skiers made more long-term business sense than jamming the parking lot to overfill every Saturday.

Every ski area in America is a work in progress. Watching The Godfather today is the same experience as when the film debuted in 1972. But if you haven’t skied Vail Mountain or Sun Valley or Stowe since that year, you’d arrive to an experience you scarcely recognized in 2023. Some ski areas, however, are more deliberate in crafting this evolving story. To some, time sort of happens, and they’re surprised to realize, one day, that their 1985 experience doesn’t appeal to a 21st century world. But others grab a handsaw and a screwdriver and carefully think through the long-term, neverending renovation of their dream home. Cascade is one of these, constantly, constantly sanding and shifting and shaping this thing that will never quite be finished.

Podcast Notes

On Wisconsin’s largest ski areas

I mentioned that Cascade was one of Wisconsin’s largest ski areas. Here’s a full state inventory for context:

On more efficient modern snowmaking

I mentioned a conversation I’d had with Joe VanderKelen, president of SMI Snow Makers, and how he’d discussed the efficiency of modern snowmaking. You can listen to that podcast here:

On naming the JL2 lift

When Cascade replaced the Mogul Monster lift last year, resort officials named the new fixed-grip quad on the same line “JL2.” That, Vohs tells us, is an honorarium to two Cascade locals killed in a Colorado avalanche in 2014: Justin Lentz and Jarrard Law. Per the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel on Feb. 16, 2014:

Two men from Portage were killed in a Colorado avalanche while skiing over the weekend.

Justin Lentz, 32, and Jarrad Law died when they and five other skiers were swept away by an avalanche late Saturday afternoon, friends and family told Madison television station WISC-TV (Channel 3.)

The avalanche occurred at an elevation of about 11,000 feet near Independence Pass, roughly 120 miles southwest of Denver.

The two skiers were found at the top of the avalanche, said Susan Matthews, spokeswoman for the Lake County Office of Emergency Management.

"The skiers were equipped with avalanche beacons, which assisted search and rescue crews in locating them," she said.

She said authorities believe the seven skiers triggered the slide. Officials found the bodies of Lentz and Law Sunday afternoon but did not release their names.

One of Lentz's family members told WISC-TV that the family was notified Saturday night. Lentz was a Portage High School graduate who was in Colorado on a skiing trip. A friend said Law had worked at Cascade Mountain and was an avid skier.

WKOW captured the scene at the JL2 lift’s opening this past January:

It was a bittersweet moment for those at Cascade Mountain as visitors took a ride on a new ski lift named in honor of two late skiers.

When it came time to name the new ski lift at Cascade Mountain in Portage, crews at the resort said there was only option that seemed fitting.

"We tossed around the idea of naming it after a couple of just really awesome guys who grew up skiing and snowboarding here," said Evan Walz, who is the Inside Operations Manager for Cascade Mountain.

The name they landed on was JL2. It's in honor of Jarrard Law and Justin Lentz.

"[I] wanted to cry," Justin Lentz's mother, Connie Heitke, said. "Because I knew that people were still thinking of them and love them as much as when it first happened."

Law and Lentz lost their lives to an avalanche while on a backcountry trip in Colorado in February 2014. Heitke said it has been hard but said it's the support from friends and family that helps her get through.

"[I] still miss him awfully a lot. He was my first. It's coming around and now that I can feel that it was okay because he used to enjoy life," she said.

Seeing people gather for the ribbon cutting of the ski lift's grand opening, Heitke said is a fabulous feeling.

"He [Justin] would have been grabbing my head and shaking my head and shaking me screaming and yelling and hollering just like he did," she said. "Jarrard would have just been sitting over there really calm with a smile on his face enjoying watching Justin."

From Lentz’s obituary:

Justin T. Lentz, age 32, of Sun Prairie, died on Saturday, February 15, 2014 as the result of a skiing accident in Twin Lakes, Colorado.

Justin was born on August 7, 1981 in Portage, the son of Robert and Connie (Heitke) Lentz.  He graduated from Portage High School in 2000.  He had worked at Staff Electric in Madison since 2005.  Justin loved skiing, snowboarding, fishing, hiking, mountain biking, and making his weekends better than everyone else’s year.    

From Law’s obituary:

Jarrard Leigh Law, 34, of Portage, formerly of Carroll County, died tragically while skiing in Colorado Saturday, Feb. 15, 2014.

He was born Dec. 6, 1979, in Freeport, to Joan (Getz) and Robert Law.

Jarrard was baptized at St. Peter’s Lutheran Church in Savanna and confirmed at Bethlehem Lutheran Church in Portage.

He was a 1998 graduate of Portage High School and earned a degree in computer information systems from Madison Area Technical College.

For the past 12 years, he was employed by CESA 5 working as a computer technician for the Necedah Area School District.

Jarrard was a member of Bethlehem Lutheran Church serving as an usher and communion assistant.

He enjoyed skiing, biking, hiking and many other outdoor activities.

On Devil’s Head

I’ve long had a low-grade obsession with ski areas that sit near one another. Despite drawing from identical or very similar weather systems, terrain features, and population bases, they ski, look, and feel like completely different entities. Think A-Basin/Keystone or Sugarbush/Mad River Glen – neighbors that exist, it can seem, in different universes.

Many versions of this dot the Midwest, with perhaps the most well-known being Nub’s Nob/The Highlands, an independent/Boyne Resorts duo that face one another across a Michigan backroad. How different are they? Both ski areas built new lifts this summer. The Highlands removed three Riblet triples and replaced them with one Doppelmayr D-Line bubble six-pack, a chairlift that probably cost more than the Detroit Lions. Nub’s Nob, meanwhile, replaced a Riblet fixed-grip quad with… a Skytrac fixed-grip quad. “High-speed chairlifts at Nub’s Nob just don’t make sense,” GM Ben Doornbos underscored in a video announcing the replacement:

Wisconsin’s version of this is Cascade and Devil’s Head, which sit 14 road miles apart. While both count similar vertical drops and skiable acreage totals, Devil’s Head, like Nub’s, relies solely on fixed-grip lifts. It’s a bit more backwoods, a bit less visible than Cascade, which is parked like a sentinel over the interstate. Vohs and I talk a bit about the relationship between the two ski areas. Here’s a visual of Devil’s Head for reference:

On Christmas Mountain

Vohs spent some time managing Christmas Mountain, 22 miles down the interstate. He refers to it as, “a very small operation.” The place is more of an amenity for the attached resort than a standalone ski area meant to compete with Cascade or Devil’s Head. It’s around 200 vertical feet served by a quad and a handletow:

On the capacity differences between fixed-grip and high-speed lifts

Cascade runs four top-to-bottom quads: two detachables and two fixed-grips. Vohs and I discuss what went into deciding which lift to install for each of these lines. Detachable quads, it turns out, are about twice as expensive to install and far more expensive to maintain, and – this is hard to really appreciate – don’t move any more skiers per hour than a fixed-grip quad. Don’t believe it? Check this excellent summary from Midwest Skiers:

You can also read the summary here.

On high-speed ropetows

I’m going to go ahead and keep proselytizing on the utility and efficiency of high-speed ropetows until every ski area in America realizes that they need like eight of them. Look at these things go (this one is at Mount Ski Gull in Minnesota):

On Cascade’s expansion and Google Maps

Many years ago, Cascade cut a half dozen or so top-to-bottom trails skier’s right of the traditional resort footprint. Were this anywhere other than Cascade, skiers may have barely noticed, but since the terrain rises directly off the interstate, well, they did. Cascade finally strung the B-Dub lift up to serve roughly half the terrain in 2016, but, as you can see on Google Maps, a clutch of trails still awaits lift service:

So what’s the plan? Vohs tells us in the podcast.

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 90/100 in 2023, and number 476 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

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Who

Ben Wilcox, President and General Manager of Cranmore Mountain Resort, New Hampshire

Recorded on

October 16, 2023

About Cranmore

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: The Fairbank Group

Located in: North Conway, New Hampshire

Year founded: 1937

Pass affiliations: None

Reciprocal partners: 1 day each at Jiminy Peak and Bromley

Closest neighboring ski areas: Attitash (:16), Black Mountain (:18), King Pine (:28), Wildcat (:28), Pleasant Mountain (:33), Bretton Woods (:42)

Base elevation: 800 feet

Summit elevation: 2,000 feet

Vertical drop: 1,200 feet

Skiable Acres: 170 acres

Average annual snowfall: 80 inches

Trail count: 56 (15 most difficult, 25 intermediate, 16 easier)

Lift count: 7 (1 high-speed quad, 1 fixed-grip quad, 2 triples, 1 double, 2 carpets)

Why I interviewed him

Nowhere does a high-speed quad transform the texture and fate of a mountain so much as in New England. Western mountains, geographically dispersed and disposed to sunshine, can still sell you a ride on a 1,700-vertical-foot fixed grip triple, as Montana Snowbowl did with their new Transporter lift last year, and which Mt. Spokane has promised to do should the ski area ever upgrade its Jurassic Riblets. Midwest hills are too short for lift speed to matter as anything other than a novelty.

But in the blustery, frenetic East, a single detachable lift can profoundly alter a ski area’s reach and rap. Such lifts have proven to be stabilizing mechanisms at Burke, Gunstock, Ragged, Bromley, and Saddleback – mountains without the terrain or marketing heft of their much-larger neighbors. In each case, one high-speed quad (and a sixer at Ragged), cracked the mountain open to the masses, uniting all or most of the terrain with one six-minute lift ride and, often, stabilizing operations that had struggled for decades.

Cranmore is one such mountain. Had the Skimobile Express quad not gone up in 1995, Wilcox tells us on the podcast, he’s not so sure that the ski area hanging over North Conway would have gotten out of the last century alive. A “dark period” followed the Skimobile’s 1990 demolition, Wilcox says, during which Cranmore, tottering along on a double chair strung to the summit, fell behind its high-dollar, high-energy, rapidly consolidating competitors. The Skimobile had been pokey and inefficient, but at least it was freighted with nostalgia. At least it was novel. At least it was cool. An old double chair was just an old double chair, and local skiers had lost interest in those when high-speed lifts started rising up the New England mountainsides in the late 1980s.

It’s true that a handful of New England ski areas continue to rely on antique doubles: Smugglers’ Notch, Magic, Black Mountain in New Hampshire, Mt. Abram. But Smuggs delivers 300 inches of snow per winter and a unique, sprawling terrain network. The rest are improbable survivors. Magic sat idle for half the ‘90s. We nearly lost Black earlier this month. All anybody knows about Mt. Abram is that it’s not Sunday River.

The Skimobile Express did not, by itself, save Cranmore. If such a lift were such a magic trick, then we’d still be skiing the top of Ascutney today (yes Uphill Bro I know you still are). But the lift helped. A lot.

There is a tendency among skiers to conflate history with essence. As though a ski area, absent the trappings of its 1930s or ‘40s or ‘50s origins, loses something. These same skiers, however, do not rip around on 240s clapped to beartrap bindings or ski in top hats and mink shawls. Cranmore could not simply be The Ski Area With The Skimobile forever and ever. Not after every other ski area in New England, including Cranmore, had erected multiple chairlifts. There is a small market for such tricks. Mad River Glen can spin its single chair for 100 more years if the co-op ownership model holds up. But that is a rowdy, rugged hunk of real estate, 2,000 feet of nasty, a place where being uncomfortable is half the point. Cranmore… is not.

So Cranmore changed. It is now a nice, modern, mid-sized New England ski area, with a 1,200-foot vertical drop and a hotel at the base. More important, it is an 86-year-old New England ski area, one that began in the era when guys named Harv and Mel and Bob and Jenkins showed up with a hacksaw and a 12-pack and started building a lift-served snowskiing operation, and transitioned into a new identity suited to a new world. Wilcox, with his grasp of the resort’s sprawling, mad history, is a capable ambassador to tell us how they did it.

What we talked about

The new Fairbank base lodge; what Cranmore found when they tore down the old lodge; the future of Zip’s Pub; who the lodge is named after; the base lodge redevelopment plan; what happened when the Fairbanks purchased Cranmore; North Conway; traffic; Bretton Woods; Booth Creek; Cranmore pride; “if [the Skimobile Express] hadn’t gone in in the mid-90s, I’m not sure if we’d still be here”; the Skimobile Express upgrade and why Cranmore didn’t replace it with a new lift; the history of America’s Zaniest lift, the original Skimobile; why Cranmore ultimately demolished the structure; potential upgrades for Lookout; the long-rumored but never-built Blackcap expansion; the glory and grind of southern exposure; night skiing; what happened when Vail came to town; competing against discount Epic Passes; why the days of car-counting are over; the history and logic behind the White Mountain Super Pass and the Sun and Snow Pass; Black Mountain; staffing up when your biggest rival raises minimum wage to $20 an hour; and whether Cranmore has considered a Jiminy Peak-esque wind turbine.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

The Fairbank Group did something unsung and brilliant over the past two years. While major resorts across the continent razed and replaced first-generation detachables at a per-project cost approaching or exceeding double-digit millions, Cranmore (which Fairbank owns), and Bromley (which they operate), modernized in a more modest way. Rather than tearing down the high-speed quads that act as base-to-summit people-movers for each ski area, they gut-renovated them. For around $1 million per lift, Bromley’s Sun Mountain Express and Cranmore’s Skimobile Express got new, modern drives, comms lines, safety systems, and more. The result: two essentially brand-new lifts with three-plus decades of good life ahead of them.

Skiers may not see it that way, and most won’t even know about the upgrades. The aesthetics, mostly, remain unchanged. But for independent ski area operators knocked into eyes-bulging terror as they see price quotes for a Double Clutch Z-Link Awesomeness 42-passenger Express Lift, the Fairbank model offers an approachable alternative. Knock down the walls, but keep the building intact, a renovation rather than a rebuild.

Boyne does this all the time, mostly with lifts the company is relocating: the Kanc quad at Loon becomes the Seven Brothers quad; Big Sky’s Swift Current quad becomes Sugarloaf’s Bucksaw Express; Sunday River’s Jordan quad is, someday, maybe, supposedly going to land at Pleasant Mountain. Sugarloafers may grumble on their message boards about getting a used quad while Sunday River erects its second D-Line bubble lift in two years, but, as Loon President/GM Brian Norton told me about the Seven Brothers upgrade on the podcast last year, the effect of such projects are that skiers get “a new lift… you won’t recognize it.” Other than the towers and the chairs, the machine parts of these machines really are brand new.

Cranmore and its sister resorts have found a different way to sustainably operate, is my point here. The understated chairlift upgrades are just one expression of this. But both operate, remember, in impossible neighborhoods. Bromley is visible from almost any point on Alterra-owned Stratton, Southern Vermont’s Ikon Pass freight train. Cranmore sits just down the road from Vail-owned Attitash and Wildcat, both of which are larger, and both of which share a pass – which, by the way, is less expensive than Cranmore’s – with each other and with their 20 or 50 or 60 best friends, depending upon how Epic you want your winter to be. The local lift-served skiing market is so treacherous that Black Mountain, less than 11 miles north of Cranmore and in continuous operation since 1935, was saved from permanent closure last week only when Indy Pass called in the cavalry.

Yet, Cranmore thrives. Wilcox says that season pass sales continue to increase every year. Going into year five of Northeast-specific Epic Pass offerings and year six of the Ikon Pass, that’s an amazing statistic. Cranmore’s pass is not cheap. The early-bird adult price for the 2023-24 ski season came in at $775. It’s currently $1,139. For a 1,200-vertical-foot mountain in a state full of 2,000-footers, with just one high-speed lift in a neighborhood where Sunday River runs five, statistical equivalencies quickly fail any attempt to explain this momentum.

So what does explain it? Perhaps it’s the resort’s massive, ongoing base area renovation that landed a new hotel and lodge onsite within the past year. Perhaps it’s consumer habit and proximity to North Conway, looming, as the mountain does, over town. Perhaps it’s the approachable, just-right size of the mountain or, for families, the fact that all trails funnel back to a single base. Perhaps it’s the massive seasonal youth and race programs. It is, most likely, a combination of all of these things, as well as atmospheric intangibles and managerial competence.

Whatever it is, Cranmore shows us that a pathway exists for a Very Good Mountain to thrive in the megapass era without being a direct party to it. It’s worth noting that Black, which nearly failed, is a fifth-year member of Indy Pass, which Cranmore has declined to join. While this conversation with Wilcox does not exactly explain how the mountain has been so successful even as it sidesteps megatrends, it’s easy enough to appreciate, as you listen to his passion for and appreciation of the place, why it does.

What I got wrong

I noted that the Skimobile Express quad had been upgraded “last year, or maybe the year before.” Cranmore completed the lift overhaul in 2022.

I referred to Vail’s Northeast Value Epic Pass as the “Northeast Local Pass.”

Why you should ski Cranmore

The New England Ski Safari is not quite the social media meme that it is in the big-mountain West, where Campervan Karl and Bearded Bob document their season-long adventures over switchbacking passes with their trusty dog, Labrador Larry. Alta/Snowbird to Jackson to Big Sky to Sun Valley to Tahoe with a sickness Brah. Hella wicked rad. Six weeks and 16 storms, snowshovels in the roof box and Larry pouncing through snow in IG Stories.

Distance is not such an obstacle in the East. New England crams 100 ski areas into a six-state region half the size of Montana (which is home to just 17, two of which it shares with Idaho). Between pow runs we can just… go home. But the advent of the megapass in the Northeast over the past decade has enabled this sort of resort-hopping adventure. Options abound:

* Epic Pass gives you three of Vermont’s largest ski areas (Okemo, Mount Snow, Stowe); one of New England’s best ski areas (also Stowe); and four stops in New Hampshire, three of which (Mount Sunapee, Wildcat, and Attitash), are sizeable. Crotched gives you night skiing.

* Ikon Pass delivers four of New England’s biggest, best, and most complete ski areas: Killington, Sugarbush, Sunday River, and Sugarloaf; as well as two of its best lift systems (Stratton and Loon – yes, I know the gondolas are terrible at both); and a sleepy bomber in Pico.

* Indy Pass gives you perhaps New England’s best ski area (Jay Peak); three other mountains that stack up favorably with anything on Epic or Ikon (Waterville Valley, Cannon, Saddleback); and a stack of unheralded thumpers where light crowds and great terrain collide (Black Mountain of Maine, Black Mountain NH, Magic, Bolton Valley, Berkshire East); and a bunch of family-friendly bumps (Whaleback, Dartmouth Skiway, Pats Peak, Saskadena Six, Mohawk, Catamount, Bigrock).

Hit any of those circuits, and you’re bound for a good winter. So why tack on an extra? Cranmore is one of the few large New England independents (along with Bretton Woods, Smugglers’ Notch, Mad River Glen, Bromley), to so far decline megapass membership. That makes it a trickier sell to the rambling resort-hopper.

But this is not Colorado. You can score a Cranmore lift ticket for as little as $65 on select Sundays, even in mid-winter, (including, as of this writing, the always raucous St. Patrick’s Day). If you’re skiing Attitash and staying in North Conway, you can roll up to Cranmore starting at 2 p.m. on Wednesday or Saturday for a $69 night-ski and some pre-dinner turns.

And it’s worth the visit. This is a very good ski mountain. The stats undersell the place. It skis and feels big. The fall lines are sustained and excellent. Glades are more abundant than the trailmap suggests. The grooming is outstanding. It faces south – a not unimportant feature in often-frigid New England.

Even if you’re megapass Bro (and who among us is not?), this one fits right into the circuit, close to Attitash, Black, Wildcat, Cannon, Loon, Waterville. It’s easy to ski multiple New England mountains on a single trip, or even in a single day. The last time I skied Cranmore, I cranked through 17 high-speed laps in three hours and then bumped over to Pleasant Mountain, half an hour down the road.

Podcast Notes

On Hans Schneider

Henry Dow Gibson, who New England Ski History refers to as an “international financier” founded Cranmore in 1937, but it was Austrian ski instructor Hannes Schneider who institutionalized the place. Per New England Ski History:

Hannes Schneider was born on June 24, 1890 in Stuben, a small town west of Arlberg Pass in Austria. At the age of 8, Schneider started skiing on makeshift skis.

While becoming a renowned skier in his teenage years, Schneider developed the Arlberg technique. The Arlberg technique quickly caught on, resulting in Schneider becoming in demand for demonstrations, films, and military training.

Following Nazi Germany taking Austria in the Anschluss, Schneider was imprisoned March 12, 1938.

In January of 1937, international financier Harvey Gibson purchased land on Cranmore Mountain in Conway with the aim to make North Conway a winter destination. Two years later, after lawyer Karl Rosen managed to transfer Schneider from prison to house arrest, Gibson leveraged his firm's German holdings and negotiated with Heinrich Himmler to get Schneider and his family released from Germany and transported to the United States. Following a massive welcoming party in North Conway in February of 1939, Schneider took over Cranmore and worked quickly to make it one of the best known ski areas in the country.

One of Schneider's first big decisions at Cranmore was to expand lift service to the summit, which was accomplished during his first full season when the upper section of the Skimobile was installed. With top to bottom Skimobile coverage, Cranmore was second only to Cannon's tram in terms of continuous lift served vertical drop in New England.

With the onset of World War II, Hannes was reportedly involved in the training and providing intelligence for United States and British ski troops. His son Herbert served in the 10th Mountain Division during World War II, earning a Bronze Star for his heroic actions in Italy. Following the war, Herbert returned to North Conway to work for his father.

In 1949, Hannes Schneider was hired to oversee construction of the new Blue Hills ski area outside of Boston, Massachusetts. Schneider referred to the ski area was "Little Cranmore."

In the spring of 1955, Schneider was actively working to open new terrain at Cranmore, serviced by its first chairlift. Following a day of laying out new terrain in what would become the East Bowl, Schneider died of a heart attack. Schneider's son Herbert assumed control of the Cranmore ski school and, circa 1963 started a two decade run as owner of the ski area.

Schneider's name lives on at Cranmore, as a trail (Schneider in the East Bowl) and the annual Hannes Schneider Meister Cup Race.

On the Fairbank Group

Cranmore is owned by the Fairbank Group, whose chairman and namesake, Brian Fairbank, transformed Jiminy Peak from a Berkshires backwater into the glimmering modern heart of Massachusetts skiing. The company also operates Bromley (which is owned by Joseph O'Donnell), and owns a renewable energy operation (EOS Ventures), a ski industry e-learning platform (Bullwheel Productions), and a snowmaking outfit (Snowgun Technologies). For all this and more, including Jiminy Peak’s early embrace of clean energy to power its operation, Brian Fairbank earned a spot in the Ski & Snowboard Hall of Fame in 2020. I hosted him on the podcast that autumn to discuss his career and achievements:

On Booth Creek Ski Holdings

In an alternate universe, Booth Creek may stand on Alterra’s throne, Vail’s foil in the Skico Wars. For a brief period in the late ‘90s, the company, founded by former Vail and Beaver Creek owner George Gillett Jr., owned eight ski areas across the United States: Cranmore, Loon, Waterville Valley, Grand Targhee, Summit at Snoqualmie, Bear Mountain (now part of Big Bear), Northstar, and Sierra-at-Tahoe. In 1998, the company attempted to purchase Seven Springs, Pennsylvania. But, as this summary chart from New England Ski History shows, Booth Creek began selling off resorts in the early 2000s. Today, it owns only Sierra-at-Tahoe:

On the Skimobile

Had Cranmore’s monolithic Skimobile survived to the present day, most visitors would probably mistake it for a mountain coaster. When it went live, in 1938, skiers likely mistook it for the future. “Well, by gum, a contraption that just takes you right up the mountain while you sit on your heinie. This will change skiing forever!”

Instead, the Skimobile, a two-track mon that toted skiers uphill in single-passenger carts, passed five decades as a beloved novelty before Cranmore demolished it in 1990. The New England ski diaspora is still sore about this. But imagine building a Great Wall of China your mountain. It would kind of make it hard for skiers, Patrol, groomers, etc. to move around the bump. And someone came up with a better idea called a “chairlift.” When the only feasible alternative was the ropetow, the Skimobile probably seemed like the greatest invention since electricity. But once the chairlift proliferated, the shortcomings of a tracked lift became obvious.

The Skimobile rose Cranmore’s full 1,200 vertical feet in two sections: the lower, built in 1938, and the upper, constructed the following year. Skiers had to disembark to take the second. Here’s how they laid out in a circa 1951 trailmap:

On the potential Black Cap expansion

Wilcox and I discussed long-proposed Black Cap expansion, which would give Cranmore a several-hundred-acre, several-hundred-vertical-foot boost off the backside. New England Ski History includes the following details in its short write-up of Black Cap:

Wilcox provides slightly different numbers, but doesn’t rule out the possibility of this significant expansion at some future point. The current trailmap shows Black Cap looming in the background:

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 91/100 in 2023, and number 477 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

The Storm Skiing Journal and Podcast is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and to support my work, please consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

What is this?

A new, occasional podcast series capturing on-the-ground conversations with prominent ski industry leaders. All 148 Storm Skiing Podcasts have been recorded via phone or an internet recording service (mostly Zencastr). That is partly because it’s easier, and partly because I had the misfortune to launch this podcast five months before Covid shin-kicked the world into hibernation. But over the past year, I’ve led panels or one-on-one interviews with industry execs in Boston, Banff, Savannah, and Lake Placid. In many cases, these are confidential sessions for the benefit of the folks in the room. However, sometimes I’m allowed to record them. And when I do, I’ll share them here.

In this case, Ski Areas of New York and Ski PA invited me to their annual joint expo to moderate a panel of five ski area general managers. That session was off the record, but I spoke with Ski NY President Scott Brandi afterward. We sat down in a room bristling with camaraderie and positive energy, ski people enjoying one last inhale before ratcheting into turbo mode and the ramp-up to winter.

Who

Scott Brandi, President of Ski Areas of New York

Recorded on

September 26, 2023

About Ski Areas of New York (and Ski PA)

Ski Areas of New York is a trade group representing, well, the ski areas of New York. According to their website, SKI/NY works “on behalf of its membership to promote fair legislation, develop marketing programs, create educational opportunities, and enhance the public awareness of snow sports throughout the State and region.” Most large ski states have some version of Ski New York, but as far as organization and effectiveness, this is one of the best.

Ski NY co-hosts this annual session with Ski PA, the smaller state association to its south. The two organizations share a lot of challenges: crummy weather, dated infrastructure, and legislatures that are not always aligned with the industry’s interests. But their ski areas are also national leaders in crafting a viable ski experience from marginal weather, in high-volume operations, in hacking the improbable from the impossible.

Here’s the combined inventory of active ski areas from both states – not all of which are necessarily members of the state organization (mostly, the little ropetow joints and private neighborhood ski areas don’t bother or can’t afford the membership dues):

What we talked about

What’s the point of this whole thing?; why should skiers care what happens here?; why independent ski areas are more connected to one another than you may think; the grind of working in skiing; how events like the SANY convention benefit family-owned ski areas; how SANY helps its ski areas from a regulatory point of view; why Pennsylvania and New York combine this annual event; the detrimental impact of ski industry consolidation on the event; what killed Ski PA’s kids’ passport program; and reasons for optimism in skiing;    

Podcast Notes

On Kelly Pawlak, head of the National Ski Areas Association (NSAA)

Brandi mentions Kelly Pawlak, CEO of the National Ski Areas Association (NSAA). The NSAA is the national version of the state associations, and it works closely with all of them. Pawlak has appeared on The Storm Skiing Podcast a couple of times, most recently in 2021:

On my “What Keeps You Up At Night” panel

My conversation followed a panel that I hosted with five ski area general managers:

* Ski Big Bear, Pennsylvania GM Lori Phillips

* Mount Pleasant of Edinboro, Pennsylvania GM Andrew Halmi

* Whiteface, New York GM Aaron Kellett

* Woods Valley, New York owner and GM Tim Woods

* Mountain Creek, New Jersey GM Evan Kovac

That session was not recorded, and the context of it was meant to be kept to the room we held it in. However, my intention is to host each of these folks on The Storm Skiing Podcast at some future point. Halmi has already appeared on the podcast, and it was a terrific conversation:

On “what happened at Snow Ridge”

Brandi references “what happened at Snow Ridge.” What happened at Snow Ridge was an EF3 tornado smashed all five of the mountain’s lifts. Since this isn’t a topic I’ve been able to focus on explicitly in this newsletter, I’ll refer you to this recent blog post by Snow Ridge owner Nick Mir:

let’s go back to the morning of Tuesday, August 8th. I made my way out early that morning, where people had already gathered to witness the destruction. I figured there would be some trees down, maybe a little damage after the high winds and rain, but I was not prepared for the reality of the situation. From the top of Snow Pocket, straight down to the bottom of Little Mountain, an EF3 tornado had left a trail of mangled trees, lifts, equipment, and buildings in its wake. Four of our 5 lifts had been severely damaged, our secondary groomer crushed by a massive tree, the warming yurt resembled a pancake more than it did a building, among countless other damages. It was overwhelming, to say the least. In all honesty, the thought of packing it in and abandoning ship crossed my mind more than once. Wondering if this was something that we could realistically recover from, let alone operate this season.

But then the support started pouring in. Phone calls, texts, emails, visits from friends, family, strangers. It was not only comforting, but incredibly humbling. We quickly realized that this was not just a tragedy for our family business, but for a much larger community that wasn’t going to let this keep us down. The shear amount of support we’ve received speaks volumes to the importance of this ski area to so many people. Without it, Snow Ridge would be no more than a memory. The scope of the recovery effort truly is staggering, and none of it would have been possible without those who have stood behind us and lifted us back up.

Over 120 people have showed up to our two volunteer clean up days. Most notably some of our closest competitors including a crew from Dry Hill, a crew from Greek Peak, and Tim Woods from Woods Valley. Businesses donated equipment including Caza Construction, Riverside Equipment Rentals, and G&G Tree Service. Countless others have made monetary donations, donated tools, and their time to help us bounce back. We started a GoFundMe campaign after we learned that the majority of the tree removal, the crushed groomer, yurt, and other smaller damages would not be covered under our insurance policy. That campaign is nearing $40,000 and may very well cover the logging and reclamation expenses that we’ve incurred so far. The generosity shown by so many of you has literally kept this business alive. We quite literally cannot thank you all enough!

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 92/100 in 2023, and number 478 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

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Who

Deirdra Walsh, Vice President and Chief Operating Officer of Park City, Utah

Recorded on

October 18, 2023

About Park City

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Vail Resorts

Located in: Park City, Utah

Year founded: 1963

Pass affiliations:

* Epic Pass: unlimited

* Epic Local Pass: unlimited with blackouts

* Tahoe Local: five days combined with Vail, Beaver Creek, Breckenridge, Crested Butte, Keystone

* Epic Day Pass: access with All Resorts tier

Closest neighboring ski areas: Deer Valley (:04), Utah Olympic Park (:09), Woodward Park City (:11), Snowbird (:50), Alta (:55), Solitude (1:00), Brighton (1:08) – travel times vary massively pending weather, traffic, and time of year

Base elevation: 6,800 feet

Summit elevation: 9,998 feet at the top of Jupiter (can hike to 10,026 on Jupiter Peak)

Vertical drop: 3,226 feet

Skiable Acres: 7,300 acres

Average annual snowfall: 355 inches

Trail count: 330+ (50% advanced, 42% intermediate, 8% beginner)

Lift count: 41 (2 eight-passenger gondolas, 1 pulse gondola, 1 cabriolet, 6 high-speed six-packs, 10 high-speed quads, 5 fixed-grip quads, 7 triples, 4 doubles, 3 carpets, 2 ropetows – view Lift Blog’s inventory of Park City’s lift fleet)

View historic Park City trailmaps on skimap.org.

Why I interviewed her

An unfortunate requirement of this job is concocting differentiated verbiage to describe a snowy hill equipped with chairlifts. Most often, I revert to the three standbys: ski area, mountain, and resort/ski resort. I use them interchangeably, as one may use couch/sofa or dinner/supper (for several decades, I thought oven/stove to be a similar pairing; imagine my surprise to discover that these described two separate parts of one familiar machine). But that is problematic, of course, because while every enterprise that I describe is some sort of ski area, only around half of them are anywhere near an actual mountain. And an even smaller percentage of those are resorts. Still, I swap the trio around like T-shirts in the world’s smallest wardrobe, hoping my readers value the absence of repetition more than they resent the mental gymnastics required to consider 210-vertical-foot Snow Snake, Michigan a “ski resort.”

But these equivalencies introduce a problem when I get to Park City. At 7,300 acres, Park City sprawls over 37 percent more terrain than Vail Mountain, Vail Resorts’ second-largest U.S. ski area, and the fourth-biggest in the nation overall. To call this a “ski area” seems inadequate, like describing an aircraft carrier as a “boat.” Even “mountain” feels insubstantial, as Park City’s forty-some-odd lifts shoots-and-ladder their way over at least a dozen separate summits. “Ski resort” comes closest to capturing the grandeur of the whole operation, but even that undersells the experience, given that the ski runs are directly knotted to the town below them – a town that is a ski town but is also so much more.

In recent years, “megaresort” has settled into the ski lexicon, usually as a pejorative describing a thing to be avoided, a tourist magnet that has swapped its soul for a Disney-esque welcome mat. “Your estimated wait time to board the Ultimate Super Summit Interactive 4D 8K Turbo Gondola is [one hour and 45 minutes]”. The “megas,” freighted with the existential burden of Epic and Ikon flagships, carry just a bit too much cruise ship mass-escapism and Cheesecake Factory illusions of luxe to truly capture that remote that is at least half the point of skiing. Right?

Not really. Not any more than Times Square captures the essence of New York City or the security lines outside the ballpark distill the experience of consuming live sports. Yes, this is part of it, like the gondola lines winding back to the interstate are part of -day Park City. Those, along with the Epic Pass or the (up to) $299 lift ticket, are the cost of admission. But get through the gates, and a sprawling kingdom awaits.

I don’t know how many people ski Park City on a busy day. Let’s call it 20,000. The vast majority of them are going to spend the vast majority of their day lapping the groomers, which occupy a small fraction of Park City’s endless varied terrain. With its cascading hillocks, its limitless pitch-perfect glades, its lifts shooting every which way like hammered-together contraptions in some snowy realm of silver-minerstheir century-old buildings and conveyor belts rising still off the mountain – Park City delivers a singular ski experience. Call it a “mountain,” a “ski area,” a “ski resort,” or a “megaresort” – all are accurate but also inadequate. Park City, in the lexicon of American skiing, stands alone.

What we talked about

Park City’s deep 2022-23 winter; closing on May 1; skiing Missouri; Lake Tahoe; how America’s largest ski area runs as a logistical and cultural unit; living through the Powdr-to-Vail ownership transition; the awesome realization that Park City and Canyons were one; Vail’s deliberate culture of women’s empowerment; the history and purpose of those giant industrial structures dotting Park City ski area; how you can tour them; the novel relationship between the ski area and the town at its base; Park City’s Olympic legacy; thoughts on future potential Winter Olympic Games in Utah and at Park City; why a six-pack and an eight-pack chairlift scheduled for installation at Park City last year never happened; where those lifts went instead; whether those upgrades could ever happen; the incoming Sunrise Gondola; the logic of the Over And Out lift; Red Pine Gondola improvements; why the Jupiter double is unlikely to be upgraded anytime soon; Town Lift; reflecting on year one of paid parking; and the massive new employee housing development at Canyons.      

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

If only The Storm had existed in 2014. Because wouldn’t that have been fun? Hostile takeovers are rare in skiing. You normally can’t give a ski area (sorry, a super-megaresort) away. Vail taking this one off Powdr’s lunch tray is kind of amazing, kind of sad, kind of disturbing, and kind scary. Like, did that really happen? It did, so onward we go.

Walsh, as it happened, worked at Park City at the time, though in a much different role, so we talked about what is was like to live through. But two other events shape our modern perception of Park City: he Olympics and The Lifts.

The Olympics, of course, came to Park City in 2002. On this podcast a few weeks back, Snowbird General Manager outlined the dramatic changes the Games wrought. Suddenly, everyone on the planet realized that a half dozen ski resorts that averaged between 300 and 500 inches of snow per winter were lined up 45 minutes from a major international airport on good roads. And they were like, “Wait that’s real?” And they all starting coming – annual Utah skier visits have more than doubled since the Olympics, from around 3 million in 200-02 to more than 7 million in last year’s amazing . Which is cool. But the Olympics are (probably) coming back to Salt Lake, in 2030 or 2034, and Park City will likely be a part of them again.

The Lifts refers to this story that I covered last October:

Last September, Vail Resorts announced what was likely the largest set of single-season lift upgrades in the history of the world: $315-plus million on 19 lifts (later increased to 21 lifts) across 14 ski areas. Two of those lifts would land in Park City: a D-line eight-pack would replace the Silverlode six, and a six-pack would replace the Eagle and Eaglet triples. Two more lifts in a town with 62 of them (Park City sits right next door to Deer Valley). Surely this would be another routine project for the world’s largest ski area operator.

It wasn’t. In June, four local residents – Clive Bush, Angela Moschetta, Deborah Rentfrow, and Mark Stemler – successfully appealed the Park City Planning Commission’s previous approval of the lift projects.

“The upgrades were appealed on the basis that the proposed eight-place and six-place chairs were not consistent with the 1998 development agreement that governs the resort,” SAM wrote at the time. “The planning commission also cited the need for a more thorough review of the resort’s comfortable carrying capacity calculations and parking mitigation plan, finding PCM’s proposed paid parking plan at the Mountain Village insufficient.”

So instead of rising on the mountain, the lifts spent the summer, in pieces, in the parking lot. Vail admitted defeat, at least temporarily. “We are considering our options and next steps based on today's disappointing decision—but one thing is clear—we will not be able to move forward with these two lift upgrades for the 22-23 winter season,” Park City Mountain Resort Vice President and Chief Operating Officer Deirdra Walsh said in response to the decision.

One of the options Vail apparently considered was trucking the lifts to friendlier locales. Last Wednesday, as part of its year-end earnings release, Vail announced that the two lifts would be moved to Whistler and installed in time for the 2023-24 ski season. The eight-pack will replace the 1,129-vertical-foot Fitzsimmons high-speed quad on Whistler, giving the mountain 18 seats (!) out of the village (the lift runs alongside the 10-passenger Whistler Village Gondola). The six-pack will replace the Jersey Cream high-speed quad on Blackcomb, a midmountain lift with a 1,230-foot vertical rise. These will join the new Big Red six-pack and 10-passenger Creekside Gondola going in this summer on the Whistler side, giving the largest ski area on the continent four new lifts in two years. …

Meanwhile, Park City skiers will have to continue riding Silverlode, a sixer dating to 1996, and Eagle, a 1993 Garaventa CTEC triple (the Eaglet lift, unfortunately, is already gone). The vintage of the remaining lifts don’t sound particularly creaky, but both were built for a different, pre-Epic Pass Park City, and one that wasn’t connected via the Quicksilver Gondola to the Canyons side of the resort. Vail targeted these choke points to improve the mountain’s flow. But skiers are stuck with them indefinitely.

On paper, Vail remains “committed to resolving our permit to upgrade the Eagle and Silverlode lifts in Park City.” I don’t doubt that. But I wonder if the four individuals who chose to choke up this whole process understand the scale of what they just destroyed. Those two lifts, combined, probably cost somewhere around $50 million. Minimum. Maybe the resort will try again. Maybe it won’t. Surely Vail can find a lot of places to spend its money with far less friction.

All of which I thought was rather hilarious, for a number of reasons. First, stopping an enormous project on procedural grounds for nebulous reasons is the most U.S. American thing ever. Second, the more these sorts of over-the-top stall tactics are wielded for petty purposes (ski areas need to be able to upgrade chairlifts), the more likely we are to lose them, as politicians who never stop bragging about how “business-friendly” Utah is look to streamline these pesky checks and balances. Third, Vail unapologetically yanking those things out of the parking lot and hauling them up to BC was the company’s brashest move since it punched Powdr in the face and took its resort. It was harsh but necessary, a signal that the world keeps moving around the sun even when a small group of nitwits want it to stop on its axis.

Questions I wish I’d asked

On Scott’s Bowl access

I wanted to ask Walsh about the strange fact that Scott’s Bowl and West Scott’s Bowl – two high-alpine sections off Jupiter, suddenly closed in 2018 and stayed shut for four years. This story from the Park Record tells it well enough:

Park City Mountain Resort on Tuesday said a high-altitude swath of terrain has reopened more than three years after a closure caused by the inability of the resort and the landowner to reach a lease agreement. …

PCMR in December of 2018 indefinitely closed the terrain. The closure also included terrain located between Scott’s Bowl and Constellation, a nearby ski run. The resort at the time of the closure said the landowner opted not to renew a lease. There had been an agreement in place for longer than 14 years, PCMR said at the time.

A firm called Silver King Mining Company, with origins dating to Park City’s silver-mining era, owns the land. The lease and renewals had been struck between the Gallivan family-controlled Silver King Mining Company and Powdr Corp., the former owner of PCMR. A representative of Silver King Mining Company in late 2018 indicated the firm traditionally accepted lift passes as compensation for the use of the land.

The lease went to Vail Resorts when it acquired PCMR. The two sides negotiated a one-year extension but were unable at the time to reach a long-term agreement, the Silver King Mining Company side said in late 2018.

Land ownership, particularly in the west, can be a wild patchwork. The majority of large western ski areas sit on National Forest Service land, but Park City (and neighboring Deer Valley), do not. While this grants them some developmental advantages over their neighbors in the Cottonwoods, who sit mostly or entirely on public land, it also means that sprawling Park City has more landlords than it would probably like.

On Park City Epic Pass access

This is the first Vail Resorts interview in a while where I haven’t asked the question about Epic Pass access. I don’t have a high-minded reason for that – I simply ran out of time.

On the strange aversion to safety bars among Western U.S. skiers

When you ski in Europe or, to a lesser-extent, the Northeastern U.S., skiers lower the chairlift safety bar reflexively, and typically before the carrier has exited the loading terminal. While I found this jarring when I first moved to New York from the Midwest – where safety bars remain rare – I quickly adapted, and now find it disconcerting to ride a chair without one.

This whole dynamic is flipped in the West, where a sort of tough-guy bravado prevails, and skiers tend to ride with the safety bar aloft as a matter of stubborn pride. Many seem shocked, even offended, when I announce that I’m lowering it. Perhaps they are afraid their friends will see them riding with a lame tourist. It’s all a bit tedious and stupid.

Vail Resorts, however, mandates that all employees lower the safety bar when in uniform. That doesn’t mean they always do it. This past January, a Park City ski patroller died when a tree fell on the Short Cut liftline, flinging him into a snowbank, where he suffocated. Utah Occupational Safety and Health (UOSH) fined the resort a laughably inadequate sum of $2,500 for failing to clear potential hazards around the lift. UOSH’s report did not indicate whether the patroller, 29-year-old Christian Helger, had lowered his safety bar, and experts who spoke to Fox 13 in Salt Lake City said that, “with that type of hit from the weight of that type of a tree with that much snow on it, I don’t know that the safety bar would have prevented this incident.”

Fair enough. But a man is dead, and understanding the exact circumstances surrounding his death may help prevent another in the future. This is why airplane travel is so safe – regulators consider every factor of every tragedy to engineer similar failures out of future flights. We ought to be doing the same with chairlifts.

Chairlifts are, on the whole, very safe to ride. But accidents, when they do happen, can be catastrophic. Miroslava “Mirka” Lewis, a former Stevens Pass employee, recently sued Vail Resorts after a fall from one of Stevens Pass’ antique Riblet chairs in January of 2022 left her permanently disabled.

It is unclear which lift Lewis was riding, but two centerpole Riblets remained at the resort last January: Kehr’s and Seventh Heaven. Kehr’s has since been removed. Vail Resorts, as a general policy, retrofits all of its chairlifts with safety bars, but the chairs’ early-1960s recessed centerpole design is impossible to retrofit. So the lifts remain in their vintage state. It’s a bit like buying a ’57 Chevy – damn, does that thing look sweet, but if you drive it into a tree, you’re kinda screwed without that seatbelt.

Vail Resorts, by retrofitting its chairlifts and mandating employee use, has done more than probably any other entity to encourage safety bar use on chairlifts. But the industry, as a whole, could do more. In the east, safety bar use has been normalized by aggressive enforcement from lift crews and ski patrol and, in some cases (Vermont, Massachusetts, and New York), state laws mandating their use. Yet, across the West and the Midwest, hundreds of chairlifts still lack safety bars, let alone enforcement. That, in turn, discourages normalization of their use, and contributes to the blasé attitude among western skiers, many of whom view the contraptions as extraneous.

Technology can eventually resolve the issue for us – the new Burns high-speed quad at Deer Valley and the new Camelot six-pack at The Highlands in Michigan both drop the bar automatically, and raise it just before unload. But that’s two chairlifts, at two very high-end resorts, out of 2,400 or so spinning in America. That technology is too expensive to apply at scale, and will be for the foreseeable future.

So what to do? I think it starts with dismantling the tough-guy resistance. There are echoes here of the shift to widespread helmet use. Twenty years ago, almost no one, including me, wore helmets when skiing. I held out for a particularly long time – until 2016. But wearing them is the norm now, even among Western Bro Brahs. As the leader of a major Vail ski area who has watched the resort evolve first-hand, I think Walsh would have some valuable insight here, but we just didn’t have the time to get into it.

What I got wrong

I noted that Nadia Guerriero, who appeared on this podcast last year as the VP/COO of Beaver Creek, had “transitioned to a regional leadership role.” That role is senior vice president and chief operating officer of Vail Resorts’ Rockies Region.

Why you should ski Park City

Park City is a version of something that America needs a lot more of: a walkable community integrated with the ski area above it in a meaningful and seamless way. In Europe, this is the norm. In U.S. America, the exception. Only a few towns give you that experience: Telluride, Aspen, Red River. Park City is worth a visit for that experience alone – of sliding to the street, clicking out of your skis, and walking to the bar. It’s novel and unexpected here in the land of King Car, but it feels very natural and right.

The skiing, of course, is outstanding. There’s less chest-thumping here than up in the Cottonwoods – less snow, too – but still plenty of steep stuff, plenty of glades, plenty of tucked-away spots where you look around and wonder where everyone went. Zip around off McConkey’s or Jupiter or Tombstone or Ninety-Nine 90 or Super Condor and you’ll find it. This is not Snowbird-off-the-Cirque stuff, but it’s pretty good.

But what Park City really is, at its core, is one of the world’s great intermediate ski kingdoms. I’m talking here about King Con and Silverlode, the amazing jumble of blues skier’s right off Tombstone, Saddleback and Dreamscape and Iron Mountain. You can ride express lifts pretty much everywhere as you skip around the low-angle glory. The mountain does not shoot skyward with the drama of Jackson or Palisades or Snowbird. It rises and falls, rolls on forever, gifting you, off each summit, another peak to ride to.

Before Vail bought it and stapled the resort together with the Canyons, no one talked about Park City in such epic – no pun intended – terms. It was just another of dozens of very good western ski areas. But that combination created something vast and otherworldly, six-and-a-half miles end-to-end, a scale that cannot be appreciated in any way other than to go ski it.

Podcast Notes

On Vail’s target opening and closing dates

In previous seasons, Vail Resorts would release target opening and closing dates for all of its ski areas. Perhaps traumatized by short seasons, particularly in the Midwest, the company released only target opening dates, and only for its largest ski areas, for 2023:

On Hidden Valley, Missouri

Walsh’s first ski experience was at Hidden Valley, a 320-footer just west of St. Louis. It’s one of just two ski areas in Missouri. Vail happened to acquire this little guy in the 2019 Peak Resorts acquisition. Here’s a trailmap:

Not to be confused, of course, with Vail’s other Hidden Valley, which is stashed in Pennsylvania:

Rather than renaming one or the other of these, I am actually in favor of just massively confusing everything by renaming every mountain in the portfolio “Vail Mountain” followed by its zip code. Here’s how that would translate:

On the Vail-Powdr transition

I’ll reset this 2019 story from the Park Record that I initially shared in the article accompanying my podcast conversation with Mount Snow GM Brian Suhadolc in August, who also worked at Park City during Vail’s takeover from Powdr:

In some circles, though, the whispers had already started that something was afoot, and perhaps not right, at PCMR. Powdr Corp. for some unknown reason was negotiating a sale of its flagship resort, the most prevalent of the rumblings held. The CEO of Powdr Corp., John Cumming, late in 2011 had publicly stated there was not a deal involving PCMR under negotiation, telling Park City leaders during a Marsac Building appearance in December of that year the resort was “not for sale.” Later that evening, he told The Park Record the rumors “always amuse me.”

The reality was far more astonishing and something that would define the decade in Park City in a similar fashion as the Olympics did in the previous 10-year span and the population boom did in the 1990s.

The corporate infrastructure in the spring of 2011 had inadvertently failed to renew two leases on the land underlying most of the PCMR terrain, propelling the PCMR side and the landowner, a firm under the umbrella of Talisker Corp., into what were initially private negotiations and then into a dramatic lawsuit that unfolded in state court as the Park City community, the tourism industry and the North American ski industry watched in disbelief. As the decade ends, the turmoil that beset PCMR stands, in many ways, as the instigator of a changing Park City that has left so many Parkites uneasy about the city’s future as a true community.

The PCMR side launched the litigation in March of 2012, saying the future of the resort was at stake in the case. PCMR might be forced to close if it did not prevail, the president and general manager of the resort at the time said at the outset of the case. Talisker Land Holdings, LLC countered that the leases had expired, suddenly leaving doubts that Powdr Corp. would retain control of PCMR. …

Colorado-based Vail Resorts, one of Powdr Corp.’s industry rivals, would enter the case on the Talisker Land Holdings, LLC side in May of 2013 with the aim of wresting the disputed land from Powdr Corp. and coupling it with nearby Canyons Resort, which was branded a Vail Resorts property as part of a long-term lease and operations agreement reached at the same time of the Vail Resorts entry into the case. Vail Resorts was already an industry behemoth with its namesake property in the Rockies and other mountain resorts across North America. The addition of Canyons Resort would advance the Vail Resorts portfolio in one of North America’s key skiing states.

It was a deft maneuver orchestrated by the chairman and CEO of Vail Resorts, Rob Katz. The agreement was pegged at upward of $300 million in long-term debt. As part of the deal, Vail Resorts also seized control of the litigation on behalf of Talisker Land Holdings, LLC. …

The lawsuit itself unfolded with stunning developments followed by shocking ones over the course of two-plus years. In one stupefying moment, the Talisker Land Holdings, LLC attorneys discovered a crucial letter from the PCMR side regarding the leases had been backdated. In another such moment, PCMR outlined plans to essentially dismantle the resort infrastructure, possibly on an around-the-clock schedule, if it was ordered off the disputed land.

What was transpiring in the courtroom was inconceivable to the community. How could Powdr Corp., even inadvertently, not renew the leases on the ground that made up most of the skiing terrain at PCMR, many asked. Why couldn’t Powdr Corp. and Talisker Land Holdings, LLC just reach a new agreement, others wondered. And many became weary as businessmen and their attorneys took to the courtroom with the future of PCMR, critical to a broad swath of the local economy, at stake. The mood eventually shifted to exasperation as it appeared there was a chance PCMR would not open for a ski season if Talisker Land Holdings, LLC moved forward with an eviction against Powdr Corp. from the disputed terrain.

The lawsuit wore on with the Talisker Land Holdings, LLC-Vail Resorts side winning a series of key rulings from the 3rd District Court judge presiding over the case. Judge Ryan Harris in the summer of 2014 signed a de facto eviction notice against PCMR and ordered the sides into mediation. Powdr Corp., realizing there was little more that could be accomplished as it attempted to maintain control of PCMR, negotiated a $182.5 million sale of the resort to Vail Resorts that September.

Incredible.

On the Park City-Canyons connector gondola

We talked a bit about the Quicksilver Gondola, which, eight years after its construction, is taken for granted. But it’s an amazing machine, a 7,767-foot-long connector that fused Park City to the much-larger Canyons, creating the largest interconnected ski resort in the United States. The fact that such a major, transformative lift opened in 2015, just a year after Vail acquired Park City, and the ski area is now having trouble simply upgrading two older lifts, speaks to how dramatically sentiment around the resort has changed within town.

On Park City’s mining history

An amazing feature of skiing Park City is the gigantic warehouses, conveyor belts, and other industrial artifacts that dot the landscape. Visit Park City hosts free daily tours of these historic structures, which we discuss in the podcast. You can learn more here.

On the Friends of Ski Mountain Mining History

Walsh mentions an organization called “Friends of Ski Mountain Mining History.” This assumes the burden of restoring and maintaining all of these structures. From their website:

More than 300 mines once operated in Park City, with the last silver mine closing in 1982. Twenty historic mine structures still exist today, many can been seen while skiing, hiking or mountain biking on our mountain trails. Due to the ravages of time and our harsh winters, many of the mine structures are dilapidated and in critical need of repair. We are committed to preserving our rich mining legacy for future residents and visitors before we lose these historic structures forever.

Over the past seven years, our dedicated volunteers have completed stabilization of the King Con Counterweight, California Comstock Mill, Jupiter Ore Bin, Little Bell Ore Bin, two Silver King Water Tanks, the Silver Star Boiler Room and Coal Hopper, the Thaynes Conveyor and the King Con Ore Bin. Previous projects undertaken by our members include the Silver King Aerial Tramway Towers and two Silver King Water Tanks adjacent to the Silver Queen ski run. Our lecture with Clark Martinez, principal contractor on our projects and Jonathan Richards who is our structural engineer, will provide you insight as to how we saved these monuments to our mining era.

Preserving our mining heritage is expensive. Our next challenge is to save the Silver King Headframe located at the base of the Bonanza lift and Thaynes Headframe near the Thaynes lift at Park City Mountain Resort. These massive buildings and adjacent structures will take 6 years to stabilize with an expected cost of $3 million. We are embarking on a capital campaign to raise the funds required to save these iconic structures. You can learn more about our campaign here.

Here’s a cool but slow-paced video about it:

On the 2030/34 Winter Olympics

We talk a bit about the potential for Salt Lake City – and, by extension, host mountains Park City, Deer Valley, and Snowbasin – to host a future Olympic Games. While both 2030 and 2034 are possibilities, the latter increasingly looks likely. Per an October Deseret News article:

It looks like there’s no competition for Salt Lake City’s bid to host the 2034 Winter Games.

International Olympic Committee members voted Sunday to formally award both the 2030 and 2034 Winter Games together next year after being told Salt Lake City’s preference is for 2034 and the other three candidates still in the race are finalizing bids for 2030.

“I think it’s everything we could have hoped for,” said Fraser Bullock, president and CEO of the Salt Lake City-Utah Committee for the Games, describing the decision as “a tremendous step forward” now that Salt Lake City was identified as the only candidate for 2034.

Salt Lake City is bidding to host the more than $2.2 billion event in either 2030 or 2034, but has made it clear waiting until the later date is better financially, because that will avoid competition for domestic sponsors with the 2028 Summer Games in Los Angeles.

The next step for the bid that began more than a decade ago is a virtual presentation to the IOC’s Future Host Commission for the Winter Games during the week starting Nov. 19 that will include Gov. Spencer Cox and Salt Lake City Mayor Erin Mendenhall. IOC Executive Board members will decide when they meet from Nov. 30 through Dec. 1 which bids will advance to contract negotiations for 2030 and 2034, known as targeted dialogue under the new, less formal selection process. Their choices to host the 2030 and 2034 Winter Games will go to the full membership for a final ratification vote next year, likely in July just before the start of the 2024 Summer Games in Paris.

The Summer Olympics have evolved into a toxic expense that no one really wants. The Winter Games, however, still seem desirable, and I’ve yet to encounter any significant resistance from the Utah ski community, who have (not entirely but in significant pockets) kind of made resistence to everything their default posture.

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 96/100 in 2023, and number 482 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

This podcast hit paid subscribers’ inboxes on Nov. 6. It dropped for free subscribers on Nov. 13. To receive future pods as soon as they’re live, and to support independent ski journalism, please consider an upgrade to a paid subscription. You can also subscribe to the free tier below:

Who

Tom Chasse, President and CEO of Schweitzer Mountain, Idaho

Recorded on

October 23, 2023

About Schweitzer

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Alterra Mountain Company

Located in: Sandpoint, Idaho

Year founded: 1963

Pass affiliations:

* Ikon Pass: unlimited

* Ikon Base Pass, Ikon Base Plus Pass: 5 days with holiday blackouts

Closest neighboring ski areas: 49 Degrees North (1:30), Silver Mountain (1:42), Mt. Spokane (2:00), Lookout Pass (2:06), Turner Mountain (2:17) – travel times vary considerably depending upon weather, time of day, and time of year

Base elevation: 3,960 feet (at Outback Inn)

Summit elevation: 6,389 feet

Vertical drop: 2,429 feet

Skiable Acres: 2,900

Average annual snowfall: 300 inches

Trail count: 92 (10% Beginner, 40% Intermediate, 35% Advanced, 15% Expert)

Lift count: 10 (1 six-pack, 4 high-speed quads, 2 triples, 1 double, 1 T-bar, 1 carpet)

View historic Schweitzer trailmaps on skimap.org.

Why I interviewed him

Chasse first appeared on the podcast in January 2021, for what would turn out to be the penultimate episode in the Covid-19 & Skiing miniseries. Our focus was singular: to explore the stress and irritation shoved onto resort employees charged with mask-police duty. As I wrote at the time:

One of the biggest risks to the reconstituted-for-Covid ski season was always going to be that large numbers of knuckleheads would treat mask requirements as the first shots fired in Civil War II. Schweitzer, an enormous ski Narnia poking off the tip of the Idaho panhandle, became the most visible instance of this phenomenon when General Manager Tom Chasse chopped three days of twilight skiing after cantankerous Freedom Bros continually threw down with exhausted staff over requests to mask up. While violations of mask mandates haven’t ignited widespread resort shutdowns and the vast majority of skiers seem resigned to them, Schweitzer’s stand nonetheless distills the precarious nature of lift-served skiing amidst a still-raging pandemic. Skiers, if they grow careless and defiant, can shut down mountains. And so can the ski areas themselves, if they feel they can’t safely manage the crowds descending upon them in this winter of there’s-nothing-else-to-do. While it’s unfortunate that a toxic jumble of misinformation, conspiracy theories, political chest-thumping, and ignorance has so thoroughly infected our population that even something as innocuous as riding a chairlift has become a culture war flashpoint, it has. And it’s worth investigating the full story at Schweitzer to gauge how big the problem is and how to manage it in a way that allows us to all keep skiing.

We did talk about the mountain for a few minutes at the end, but I’d always meant to get back to Idaho’s largest ski area. In 2022, I hosted the leaders of Tamarack, Bogus Basin, Brundage, and Sun Valley on the podcast. Now, I’m finally back at the top of the panhandle, to go deep on the future of Alterra Mountain Company’s newest lift-served toy.

What we talked about

The new Creekside Express lift; a huge new parking lot incoming for the 2024-25 ski season; the evolution of the 2018 masterplan; why and how Schweitzer sold to Alterra; the advantages of joining a conglomerate versus remaining independent; whether Schweitzer could ever evolve into a destination resort; reflecting on the McCaw family legacy as Alterra takes control; thoughts on the demise-and-revival of Black Mountain, New Hampshire; the biggest difference between running a ski resort in New England versus the West; the slow, complete transformation of Schweitzer over the past two decades; the rationale behind the Outback Bowl lift upgrades; why Schweitzer’s upper-mountain lifts are mostly fixed-grip machines; whether Alterra will continue with Schweitzer’s 2018 masterplan or rethink it; potential for an additional future Outback Bowl lift, as outlined in the masterplan; contemplating future frontside lifts and terrain expansion; thoughts on a future Sunnyside lift replacement; how easy it would be to expand Schweitzer; the state of the ski area’s snowmaking system; Schweitzer’s creeping snowline; sustained and creative investment in employee housing; Ikon Pass access; locals’ reaction to the mountain going unlimited on the full Ikon; whether Schweitzer could convert to the unlimited-with-blackouts tier on Ikon Base; dynamic pricing; whether the Musical Carpet will continue to be free; discount night-skiing; and whether Schweitzer’s reciprocal season pass partners will remain after the 2023-24 ski season.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

Until June, Schweitzer was the third-largest independent ski area in America, and just barely, trailing the 3,000 lift-served acres at Whitefish and Powder Mountain by just 100 acres. It’s larger than Alta (2,614 acres), Grand Targhee (2,602), or Jackson Hole (2,500). That made this ever-improving resort lodged at the top of America the largest independent U.S. ski area on the Ikon Pass.

Well, that’s all finished. Once Alterra dropped Idaho’s second-largest ski area into its shopping cart in June, Schweitzer became another name on the Denver-based company’s attendance sheet, their fifth-largest resort after Palisades Tahoe (6,000 acres), Mammoth (3,500), Steamboat (3,500), and Winter Park (3,081).

But what matters more than how the mountain stacks up on the stat sheet is how Alterra will facilitate Schweitzer’s rapidly unfolding 2018 masterplan, which calls for a clutch of new lifts and a terrain expansion rising out of a Delaware-sized parking lot below the current base area. Schweitzer has so far moved quickly on the plan, dropping two brand-new lifts into Outback Bowl to replace an old centerpole double and activating a new high-speed quad called Creekside to replace the Musical Chairs double this past summer. Additional improvements include an upgrade to the Sunnyside lift and yet another lift in Outback. Is Alterra committed to all this?

The company’s rapid and comprehensive renovations or planned upgrades of Palisades Tahoe, Steamboat, and Deer Valley suggest that they will be. Alterra is not in the business of creating great day-ski areas. They are building destination ski resorts. Schweitzer, always improving but never quite gelling as a national bucket-lister, may have the captain it needs to finally get there.

What I got wrong

I asked Chasse if there was an “opportunity for a Snowcat operation.” There already is one: Selkirk Powder runs day-long tours in Schweitzer’s “west-northwest-facing bowls adjacent to the resort.”

Why you should ski Schweitzer

Allow me to play the Ida-homer for a moment. All we ever hear about is traffic in Colorado. Traffic in the canyons. Traffic in Tahoe. Traffic at Mount Hood and all around Washington. Sometimes, idling amid stopped traffic in your eight-wheel-drive Chuckwagon Supreme Ultimate Asskicker Pickup Truck can seem as much a part of western skiing as pow and open bowls.

But when was the last time you heard someone gripe about ski traffic in Idaho? Probably never. Which is weird, because look at this:

Ten ski areas with a thousand-plus acres of terrain; 12 with vertical drops topping 1,000 feet; seven that average 300 inches or more of snow per season. That’s pretty, um, Epic (except that Vail has no mountains and no partners in this ripper of a ski state).

So what’s going on? Over the weekend, I hosted a panel of ski area general managers at the Snowvana festival in Portland, Oregon. Among the participants were Tamarack President Scott Turlington and Silver Mountain GM Jeff Colburn. Both told me some version of, “we never have lift lines.” Look again at those stats. What the hell?

Go to Idaho, is my point here, if you need a break from the madness. The state, along with neighboring Montana, may be the last refuge of big vert and big snow without big crowds in our current version of U.S. America.

Schweitzer, as it happens, is the largest ski area in the state. It also happens to be one of the most modern, along with Tamarack, which is not yet 20 years old, and Sun Valley, with its fleet of high-speed lifts. Schweitzer sports what was long the state’s only six-pack (until Sun Valley upgraded Challenger this year), along with four high-speed quads. Of the remaining lifts, all are less than 20 years old with the exception of Sunnyside, a 1960s relic that is among the last artifacts of Old Schweitzer.

Chasse tells us on the podcast that the ski area could add hundreds of acres of terrain simply by moving a boundary rope. So why not do it? Because the mountain, as it stands, absorbs everyone who shows up to ski it pretty well.

A lot of the appeal of Idaho lies in the rough-and-tumble, in the dented-can feel of big, remote mountains towering forgotten in the hinterlands, centerpole doubles swinging empty up the incline. But that’s changing, slowly, ski area by ski area. Schweitzer is way ahead of most on the upgrade progression, infrastructure built more like a Wasatch resort than that of its neighbors in Idaho and Washington. But the crowds – or relative lack of them – is still pure Idaho.

Podcast Notes

On Schweitzer’s masterplan

Even though Schweitzer sits entirely on private land, the ski area published a masterplan similar to those of its Forest Service peers in 2018, outlining new lifts and terrain all over the mountain:

Though that plan has changed somewhat (Creekside, for instance, was not included), Schweitzer has continued to make progress against it. Alterra, it seems, will keep pushing it down the assembly line.

On the Alterra acquisition

In July, I hosted Alterra CEO Jared Smith on the podcast. We discuss the Schweitzer acquisition at the 53:48 mark:

On Alterra’s megaresort ambitions

Without explicitly saying so, Alterra has undertaken an aggressive cross-portfolio supercharging of several marquee properties. Last year, the company sewed together the Palisades and Alpine Meadows sides of its giant California resort with a 2.1-mile-long gondola:

This year, Steamboat will open the second leg of its 3.1-mile-long, 10-passenger Wild Blue gondola and a several-hundred-acre terrain expansion (and attendant high-speed quad), on Mahogany Ridge:

Earlier this year, Alterra announced a massive expansion that will make Deer Valley the fourth-largest ski area in America:

Winter Park’s 2022 masterplan update included several proposed terrain pods and a gondola linking mountain to town:

If my email inbox is any indication, New England Alterra skiers – meaning loyalists at Stratton and Sugarbush – are getting inpatient. When will the Colorado-based company turn its cash cannon east? I don’t know, but it will happen.

On Mt. Wittier

Chasse learned how to ski at Mt. Wittier, New Hampshire. I included a whole bit on this place in a recent newsletter:

As far as ski area relics go, it’s hard to find a more captivating artifact than the Mt. Whittier gondola. While the New Hampshire ski area has sat abandoned since the mid-1980s, towers for the four-passenger gondola still rise 1,300-vertical feet up the mountainside. Tower one stands, improbably, across New Hampshire State Highway 16, rising from a McDonald’s parking lot. The still-intact haul rope stretches across this paved expanse and terminates at a garage-style door behind the property. Check it out:

Jeremy Davis, founder of the New England Lost Ski Areas Project, told me an amazing story when he appeared on The Storm Skiing Podcast in 2019. A childhood glimpse of the abandoned Mt. Whittier ignited his mad pursuit to document the region’s lost ski areas. Years later, he returned for a closer look. He visited the shop that now occupies the former gondola base building, and the owner offered to let him peek in the garage. There, dusty but intact, sat many, or perhaps all, of the lift’s 35 four-passenger gondola cars. It’s still one of my favorite episodes:

A bizarre snowtubing outfit called “Mt. Madness” briefly operated around the turn of the century, according to New England Ski History. But other than the gondola, traces of the ski area have mostly disappeared. The forest cover is so thick that the original trail network is just scarcely visible on Google Maps.

The entire 797-acre property is now for sale, listed at $3.2 million. The gondola barn, it appears, is excluded, as is the money-making cell tower at the summit. But there might be enough here to hack the ski area back out of the wilderness:

Which would, of course, cost you a lot more than $3.2 million. Whittier has a decent location, west of King Pine and south of Conway. But it’s on the wrong side of New Hampshire for easy interstate access, and we’re on the wrong side of history for realistically building a ski area in New England.

On the seasonal disruption of hunting in rural areas

Chasse points to hunting season as an unexpected operational disruption when he moved from New England to Idaho. If you’ve never lived in a rural area, it can be hard to appreciate how ingrained hunting is into local cultures. Where I grew up, in a small Michigan town, Nov. 15 – or “Deer Day,” as the first day of the state’s two-week rifle-hunting season was colloquially known – was an official school holiday. Morning announcements would warn high-schoolers to watch out for sugar beets – popular deer bait – on M-30. It’s a whole thing.

On 2006 Schweitzer

It’s hard to overstate just how much Schweitzer has evolved since the turn of the century. Until the Stella sixer arrived in 2000, the mountain was mostly a kingdom of pokey old double chairs, save for the Great Escape high-speed quad, which had arrived in 1990:

The only lift from that trailmap that remains is Sunnyside, then known as Chair 4. The Stella sixer replaced Chair 5 in 2000; Chair 1 gave way to the Basin Express and Lakeview triple in 2007; Chair 6 (Snow Ghost), came down for the Cedar Park Express quad and Colburn triple in 2019; and Creekside replaced Chair 2 (Musical Chairs), this past summer. In 2005, Schweitzer opened up an additional peak to lift service with the Idyle Our T-bar.

While lifts are (usually) a useful proxy for measuring a resort’s modernization progress, they barely begin to really quantify the extreme changes at Schweitzer over the past few decades. Note, too, the parking lots that once lined the mountain at the Chair 2 summit – land that’s since been repurposed for a village.

On Schweitzer’s proximity to Powder Highway/BC mountains

Many reference materials stop listing ski areas at the top of America, as though that is the northern border of our ski world. But stop ignoring that big chunk of real estate known as “Canada,” and Schweitzer suddenly sits in a far more interesting neighborhood. The ski area could be considered the southern-most stop on the Powder Highway, just down the road from Red and Whitewater, not far from Kimberley and Fernie, skiable on the same circuit as Revelstoke, Sun Peaks, Silver Star, Big White, Panorama, and Castle. It’s a compelling roadtrip:

Yes, there area lot more ski areas in there, but these are most of the huge ones. And no, I don’t know if all of these roads are open in the winter – the point here is to show the overall density, not program your GPS.

On Alterra’s varying approach to its owned mountains on the Ikon Pass

Alterra, unlike Vail, does not treat all of its mountains equally on the top-tier Ikon Pass. Here’s how the company’s owned mountains sit on the various Ikon tiers:

On cheap I-90 lift tickets

I’ve written about this a bunch of times, but the stretch of I-90 from Spokane to the Idaho-Montana border offers some of the most affordable big-mountain lift tickets in the country. Here’s a look at 2022-23 walk-up lift ticket prices for the five mountains stretched across the region:

Next season’s rates aren’t live yet, but I expect them to be similar.

On Alterra lift ticket prices

I don’t expect Schweitzer’s lift tickets to stay proportionate to the rest of the region for long. Here are Alterra’s top anticipated 2023-24 walk-up lift ticket rates at its owned resorts:

On Bogus Basin’s reciprocal lift ticket program

I mentioned Bogus Basin’s extensive reciprocal lift ticket program. It’s pretty badass, as the ski area is a member of both the Freedom Pass and Powder Alliance, and has set up a bunch of independent reciprocals besides:

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 97/100 in 2023, and number 483 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

This podcast hit paid subscribers’ inboxes on Nov. 14. It dropped for free subscribers on Nov. 21. To receive future pods as soon as they’re live, and to support independent ski journalism, please consider an upgrade to a paid subscription. You can also subscribe to the free tier below:

Who

Jim Vick, General Manager of Lutsen Mountains, Minnesota

Recorded on

October 30, 2023

About Lutsen Mountains

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Midwest Family Ski Resorts

Located in: Lutsen, Minnesota

Year founded: 1948

Pass affiliations:

* Legendary Gold Pass – unlimited access, no blackouts

* Legendary Silver Pass – unlimited with 12 holiday and peak Saturday blackouts

* Legendary Bronze Pass – unlimited weekdays with three Christmas week blackouts

* Indy Pass – 2 days with 24 holiday and Saturday blackouts

* Indy Plus Pass – 2 days with no blackouts

Closest neighboring ski areas: Chester Bowl (1:44), Loch Lomond (1:48), Spirit Mountain (1:54), Giants Ridge (1:57), Mt. Baldy (2:11)

Base elevation: 800 feet

Summit elevation: 1,688 feet

Vertical drop: 1,088 feet (825 feet lift-served)

Skiable Acres: 1,000

Average annual snowfall: 120 inches

Trail count: 95 (10% expert, 25% most difficult, 47% more difficult, 18% easiest)

Lift count: 7 (1 eight-passenger gondola, 2 high-speed six-packs, 3 double chairs, 1 carpet)

View historic Lutsen Mountains trailmaps on skimap.org.

Why I interviewed him

I often claim that Vail and Alterra have failed to appreciate Midwest skiing. I realize that this can be confusing. Vail Resorts owns 10 ski areas from Missouri to Ohio. Alterra’s Ikon Pass includes a small but meaningful presence in Northern Michigan. What the hell am I talking about here?

Lutsen, while a regional standout and outlier, illuminates each company’s blind spots. In 2018, the newly formed Alterra Mountain Company looted the motley M.A.X. Pass roster for its best specimens, adding them to its Ikon Pass. Formed partly from the ashes of Intrawest, Alterra kept all of their own mountains and cherry-picked the best of Boyne and Powdr, leaving off Boyne’s Michigan mountains, Brighton, Summit at Snoqualmie, and Cypress (which Ikon later added); and Powdr’s Boreal, Lee Canyon, Pico, and Bachelor (Pico and Bachelor eventually made the team). Alterra also added Solitude and Crystal after purchasing them later in 2018, and, over time, Windham and Alyeska. Vail bought Triple Peaks (Crested Butte, Okemo, Sunapee), later that year, and added Resorts of the Canadian Rockies to its Epic Pass. But that left quite a few orphans, including Lutsen and sister mountain Granite Peak, which eventually joined the Indy Pass (which didn’t debut until 2019).

All of which is technocratic background to set up this question: what the hell was Alterra thinking? In Lutsen and Granite Peak, Alterra had, ready to snatch, two of the largest, most well-cared-for, most built-up resorts between Vermont and Colorado. Midwest Family Ski Resorts CEO Charles Skinner is one of the most aggressive and capable ski area operators anywhere. These mountains, with their 700-plus-foot vertical drops, high-speed lifts, endless glade networks, and varied terrain deliver a big-mountain experience that has more in common with a mid-sized New England ski area than anything within several hundred miles in any direction. It’s like someone in a Colorado boardroom and a stack of spreadsheets didn’t bother looking past the ZIP Codes when deciding what to keep and what to discard.

This is one of the great miscalculations in the story of skiing’s shift to multimountain pass hegemony. By overlooking Lutsen Mountains and Granite Peak in its earliest days, Alterra missed an opportunity to snatch enormous volumes of Ikon Pass sales across the Upper Midwest. Any Twin Cities skier (and there are a lot of them), would easily be able to calculate the value of an Ikon Pass that could deliver 10 or 14 days between Skinner’s two resorts, and additional days on that mid-winter western run. By dismissing the region, Alterra also enabled the rise of the Indy Pass, now the only viable national multi-mountain pass product for the Midwestern skier outside of Michigan’s Lower Peninsula. These sorts of regional destinations, while not as “iconic” as, say, Revelstoke, move passes; the sort of resort-hopping skier who is attracted to a multi-mountain pass is going to want to ski near home as much as they want to fly across the country.

Which is a formula Vail Resorts, to its credit, figured out a long time ago. Which brings us back to those 10 Midwestern ski areas hanging off the Epic Pass attendance sheet. Vail has, indeed, grasped the utility of the Midwestern, city-adjacent day-ski area, and all 10 of its resorts fit neatly into that template: 75 chairlifts on 75 vertical feet with four trees seated within 10 miles of a city center. But here’s what they missed: outside of school groups; Park Brahs who like to Park Out, Brah; and little kids, these ski areas hold little appeal even to Midwesterners. That they are busy beyond comprehension at all times underscores, rather than refutes, that point – something simulating a big-mountain experience, rather than a street riot, is what the frequent Midwest skier seeks.

For that, you have to flee the cities. Go north, find something in the 400- to 600-foot vertical range, something with glades and nooks and natural snow. Places like Caberfae, Crystal Mountain, Nub’s Nob, and Shanty Creek in Michigan; Cascade, Devil’s Head, and Whitecap, Wisconsin; Giants Ridge and Spirit Mountain, Minnesota. Lutsen is the best of all of these, a sprawler with every kind of terrain flung across its hundreds of acres. A major ski area. A true resort. A Midwestern dream.

Vick and I discuss the Ikon snub in the podcast. It’s weird. And while Alterra, five years later, is clearly doing just fine, its early decision to deliberately exclude itself from one of the world’s great ski regions is as mystifying a strategic choice as I’ve seen any ski company make. Vail, perhaps, understands the Midwest resort’s true potential, but never found one it could close on – there aren’t that many of them, and they aren’t often for sale. Perhaps they dropped a blank check on Skinner’s desk, and he promptly deposited it into the nearest trashcan.

All of which is a long way of saying this: Lutsen is the best conventional ski area in the Midwest (monster ungroomed Mount Bohemia is going to hold more appeal for a certain sort of expert skier), and one of the most consistently excellent ski operations in America. Its existence ought to legitimize the region to national operators too bent on dismissing it. Someday, they will understand that. And after listening to this podcast, I hope that you will, too.

What we talked about

Why Lutsen never makes snow in October; Minnesota as early-season operator; the new Raptor Express six-pack; why the Bridge double is intact but retiring from winter operations; why Lutsen removed the 10th Mountain triple; why so many Riblet chairs are still operating; why Moose Return trail will be closed indefinitely; potential new lower-mountain trails on Eagle Mountain; an updated season-opening plan; how lake-effect snow impacts the west side of Lake Superior; how the Raptor lift may impact potential May operations; fire destroys Papa Charlie’s; how it could have been worse; rebuilding the restaurant; Lutsen’s long evolution from backwater to regional leader and legit western alternative; the Skinner family’s aggressive operating philosophy; the history of Lutsen’s gondola, the only such machine in Midwest skiing; Lutsen’s ambitious but stalled masterplan; potential Ullr and Mystery mountain chairlift upgrades; “the list of what skiers want is long”; why Lutsen switched to a multi-mountain season pass with Granite Peak and Snowriver; and “if we would have been invited into the Ikon at the start, we would have jumped on that.”

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

For all my gushing above, Lutsen isn’t perfect. While Granite Peak has planted three high-speed lifts on the bump in the past 20 years, Lutsen has still largely been reliant on a fleet of antique Riblets, plus a sixer that landed a decade ago and the Midwest’s only gondola, a glimmering eight-passenger Doppelmayr machine installed in 2015. While a fixed-grip foundation isn’t particularly abnormal for the Midwest, which is home to probably the largest collection of antique chairlifts on the planet, it’s off-brand for burnished Midwest Family Ski Resorts.

Enter, this year, Lutsen’s second six-pack, Raptor Express, which replaces both the 10th Mountain triple (removed), and the Bridge double (demoted to summer-only use). This new lift, running approximately 600 vertical feet parallel to Bridge, will (sort of; more below), smooth out the janky connection from Moose back to Eagle. And while the loss of 10th Mountain will mean 300 vertical feet of rambling below the steep upper-mountain shots, Raptor is a welcome upgrade that will help Lutsen keep up with the Boynes.

However, even as this summer moved the mountain ahead with the Raptor installation, a storm demolished a skier bridge over the river on Moose Return, carving a several-hundred-foot-wide, unbridgeable (at least in the short term), gap across the trail. Which means that skiers will have to connect back to Eagle via gondola, somewhat dampening Raptor’s expected impact. That’s too bad, and Vick and I talk extensively about what that means for skiers this coming winter.

The final big timely piece of this interview is the abrupt cancellation of Lutsen’s massive proposed terrain expansion, which would have more than doubled the ski area’s size with new terrain on Moose and Eagle mountains. Here’s what they were hoping to do with Moose:

And Eagle:

Over the summer, Lutsen withdrew the plan, and Superior National Forest Supervisor Thomas Hall recommended a “no action” alternative, citing “irreversible damage” to mature white cedar and sugar maple stands, displacement of backcountry skiers, negative impacts to the 300-mile-long Superior hiking trail, objections from Native American communities, and water-quality concerns. Lutsen had until Oct. 10 to file an objection to the decision, and they did. What happens now? we discuss that.

Questions I wish I’d asked

It may have been worth getting into the difference between Lutsen’s stated lift-served vertical (825 feet), and overall vertical (1,088 feet). But it wasn’t really necessary, as I asked the same question of Midwest Family Ski Resorts CEO Charles Skinner two years ago. He explains the disparity at the 25:39 mark:

What I got wrong

I said that Boyne Mountain runs the Hemlock double chair instead of the Mountain Express six-pack for summer operations. That is not entirely true, as Mountain Express sometimes runs, as does the new Disciples 8 chair on the far side of the mountain’s Sky Bridge.

I referred to Midwest Family Ski Resorts CEO Charles Skinner as “Charles Skinner Jr.” He is in fact Charles Skinner IV.

Why you should ski Lutsen Mountains

One of the most unexpected recurring messages I receive from Storm readers floats out of the West. Dedicated skiers of the big-mountain, big-snow kingdoms of the Rockies, they’d never thought much about skiing east of the Continental Divide. But now they’re curious. All these profiles of New England girth and history, Midwest backwater bumps, and Great Lakes snowtrains have them angling for a quirky adventure, for novelty and, perhaps, a less-stressful version of skiing. These folks are a minority. Most Western skiers wear their big-mountain chauvinism as a badge of stupid pride. Which I understand. But they are missing a version of skiing that is heartier, grittier, and more human than the version that swarms from the western skies.

So, to those few who peek east over the fortress walls and consider the great rolling beyond, I tell you this: go to Lutsen. If you’re only going to ski the Midwest once, and only in a limited way, this is one of the few must-experience stops. Lutsen and Bohemia. Mix and match the rest. But these two are truly singular.

To the rest of you, well: Midwest Family’s stated goal is to beef up its resorts so that they’re an acceptable substitute for a western vacation. Lutsen’s website even hosts a page comparing the cost of a five-day trip there and to Breckenridge:

Sure, that’s slightly exaggerated, and yes, Breck crushes Lutsen in every on-mountain statistical category, from skiable acreage to vertical drop to average annual snowfall. But 800 vertical feet is about what an average skier can manage in one go anyway. And Lutsen really does give you a bigger-mountain feel than anything for a thousand miles in either direction (except, as always, the Bohemia exception). And when you board that gondy and swing up the cliffs toward Moose Mountain, you’re going to wonder where, exactly, you’ve been transported to. Because it sure as hell doesn’t look like Minnesota.

Podcast Notes

On Midwest Family Ski Resorts

Midwest Family Ski Resorts now owns four ski areas (Snowriver, Michigan is one resort with two side-by-side ski areas). Here’s an overview:

On the loss of Moose Return

A small but significant change will disrupt skiing at Lutsen Mountains this winter: the destruction of the skier bridge at the bottom of the Moose Return trail that crosses the Poplar River, providing direct ski access from Moose to Eagle mountains. Vick details why this presents an unfixable obstacle in the podcast, but you can see that Lutsen removed the trail from its updated 2023-24 map:

On the Stowe gondola I referenced

I briefly referenced Stowe’s gondola as a potential model for traversing the newly re-gapped Moose Return run. The resort is home to two gondolas – the 2,100-vertical-foot, 7,664-foot-long, eight-passenger Mansfield Gondola; and the 1,454-foot-long, six-passenger Over Easy Gondola, which moves between the Mansfield and Spruce bases. It is the latter that I’m referring to in the podcast: 

On Mt. Frontenac

Vick mentions that his first job was at Mt. Frontenac, a now-lost 420-vertical-foot ski area in Minnesota. Here was a circa 2000 trailmap:

Apparently a local group purchased the ski area and converted it into a golf course. Boo.

On the evolution of Lutsen

The Skinners have been involved with Lutsen since the early 1980s. Here’s a circa 1982 trailmap, which underscores the mountain’s massive evolution over the decades:

On the evolution of Granite Peak

When Charles Skinner purchased Granite Peak, then known as Rib Mountain, it was a nubby little backwater, with neglected infrastructure and a miniscule footprint:

And here it is today, a mile-wide broadside running three high-speed chairlifts:

An absolutely stunning transformation.

On Charles Skinner III

Skinner’s 2021 Star Tribune obituary summarized his contributions to Lutsen and to skiing:

Charles Mather Skinner III passed away on June 17th at the age of 87 in his new home in Red Wing, MN. …

Charles was born in St. Louis, MO on August 30, 1933, to Eleanor Whiting Skinner and Charles Mather Skinner II. He grew up near Lake Harriet in Minneapolis where he loved racing sailboats during the summer and snow sliding adventures in the winter.

At the age of 17, he joined the United States Navy and fought in the Korean War as a navigator aboard dive bombers. After his service, he returned home to Minnesota where he graduated from the University of Minnesota Law School, served on the law review, and began practicing law in Grand Rapids, MN.

In 1962, he led the formation of Sugar Hills Ski and purchased Sugar Lake (Otis) Resort in Grand Rapids, MN. For 20 years, Charles pioneer-ed snowmaking inventions, collaborated with other Midwest ski area owners to build a golden age for Midwest ski areas, and advised ski areas across the U.S. including Aspen on snowmaking.

In the 1970s, Scott Paper Company recruited Charles to manage recreational lands across New England, and later promoted him to become President of Sugarloaf Mountain ski area in Maine. In 1980, he bought, and significantly expanded, Lutsen Mountains in Lutsen, MN, which is now owned and operated by his children.

He and his wife spent many happy years on North Captiva Island, Florida, where they owned and operated Barnacle Phil's Restaurant. An entrepreneur and risk-taker at heart, he never wanted to retire and was always looking for new business ventures.

His work at Sugar Hills, Lutsen Mountains and North Captive Island helped local economics expand and thrive.

He was a much-respected leader and inspiration to thousands of people over the years. Charles was incredibly intellectually curious and an avid reader, with a tremendous memory for facts and history.

Unstoppable and unforgettable, he had a wonderful sense of humor and gave wise counsel to many. …

On the number of ski areas on Forest Service land

A huge number of U.S. ski areas operate on Forest Service land, with the majority seated in the West. A handful also sit in the Midwest and New England (Lutsen once sat partially on Forest Service land, but currently does not):

On additional Midwest podcasts

As a native Midwesterner, I’ve made it a point to regularly feature the leaders of Midwest ski areas on the podcast. Dig into the archive:

MICHIGAN

WISCONSIN

OHIO

INDIANA

SOUTH DAKOTA

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 98/100 in 2023, and number 484 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019. Want to send feedback? Reply to this email and I will answer (unless you sound insane, or, more likely, I just get busy). You can also email skiing@substack.com.

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Who

Brandon Swartz, General Manager of Attitash Mountain Resort, New Hampshire

Recorded on

November 6, 2023

About Attitash

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Vail Resorts

Located in: Bartlett, New Hampshire

Year founded: 1964

Pass affiliations:

* Epic Pass: unlimited access

* Epic Local Pass: unlimited access

* Northeast Value Pass: unlimited access

* Northeast Midweek Pass: unlimited midweek access

* Epic Day Pass: 1 to 7 days of access with all resorts, 32-resorts, and 22-resorts tiers

Closest neighboring ski areas: Black Mountain (:14), Cranmore (:16), Wildcat (:23), Bretton Woods (:28), King Pine (:35), Pleasant Mountain (:45), Mt. Eustis (:49), Cannon (:49), Loon (1:04), Sunday River (1:04), Mt. Abram (1:07)

Base elevation: 600 feet

Summit elevation: 2,350 feet at the top of Attitash Peak

Vertical drop: 1,750 feet

Skiable Acres: 311-plus

Average annual snowfall: 120 inches

Trail count: 68 (27% most difficult, 44% intermediate, 29% novice)

Lift count: 8 (3 high-speed quads, 2 fixed-grip quads, 2 triples, 1 surface lift – view Lift Blog’s inventory of Attitash’s lift fleet)

View historic Attitash trailmaps on skimap.org.

Why I interviewed him

Ask any casual NBA fan which player won the most championships in the modern era, and they will probably give you Michael and Scottie. Six titles, two threepeats, ’91 to ’93 and ’96 to ’98. And it would’ve been eight in a row had MJ not followed his spirit animal onto the baseball diamond for two summers, they might add.

But they’re wrong. The non-1950s-to-‘60s player with the most NBA titles is Robert Horry, Big Shot Bob, who played an important role in seven title runs with three teams: the 1994 and ’95 Houston Rockets; the 2000, 2001, and 2002 Lakers; and the 2005 and ’07 San Antonio Spurs. While he’s not in the hall of fame (Shaq thinks he should be), and doesn’t make The Athletic or Hoops Hype’s top 75 lists, Stadium Talk lists Horry as one of the 25 most clutch players of all time.

Attitash might be skiing’s Robert Horry. Always in the halo of greatness, never the superstar. Vail Resorts is the ski area’s third consecutive conglomerate owner, and the third straight that doesn’t quite seem to know what to do with the place. LBO Resort Enterprises opened Bear Peak in 1994, but then seemed to forget about Attitash after the merger with American Skiing Company two years later (ASC did install the Flying Yankee detachable quad in 1998). Peak Resorts picked Attitash out of ASC’s rubbish bin in 2007, then mostly let the place languish for a decade before chopping down the Top Notch double chair in 2018 with no explanation. That left no redundant route to the top of Attitash peak, which became a problem when the Summit Triple dropped dead for most of the 2018-19 ski season. Rather than replace the lift, Peak repaired it, then handed the spruced-up-but-still-hated machine off to Vail Resorts, along with the rest of its portfolio, that summer.

Like someone who inherits a jam-packed storage bin from a distant strange relative, Vail spent a couple of years just staring at all the boxes, uncertain what was in them and kind of afraid to look. Those first few winters, which corresponded with Covid, labor shortages, and supply-chain issues, weren’t great ones at Attitash. A general sense of dysfunction reigned: snowmaking lagged, lifts opened late in the season or not at all, generic corporate statements thanked the hardworking teams without acknowledging the mountain’s many urgent shortcomings. As it was picking through the storage unit, Vail made the strange decision of stacking the New Hampshire box next to the Midwest boxes, effectively valuing Attitash and long-suffering sister resort Wildcat – both with 2,000-ish-foot vertical drops and killer terrain – on the same day-pass tier as 240-foot Mad River, Ohio and 35-acre Snow Creek, Missouri. Anyone committed to arguing against absentee ownership of New England ski areas had a powerful exhibit A with Attitash.

Then, last year, Vail opened the Attitash box. And instead of the Beanie Baby collection and Battle of Hamburger Hill commemorative coins that the company expected to find, they pulled out a stack of Microsoft stock certificates from the 1986 IPO. And they were like, “Well now, these might be worth something.”

So they got to work. The company improved snowmaking. They replaced the 49-year-old East/West double-double with a brand-new fixed-grip quad. They raised the companywide minimum wage to $20 an hour, well above average for New Hampshire, helping Attitash staff up and resemble a functioning business. Then, this summer, they finally did it: demolished the wickedly inefficient Summit Triple and replaced it with a glimmering high-speed quad.

Of course, in true Attitash fashion, the Mountaineer, as the new lift is called, was the last of 60-plus 2023 lift projects in North America to fly towers. But the chair will be open this winter, and it should reset the mountain’s rap. Whether Mountaineer will finally push the resort’s reputation and stature to match its burly vertical drop and trail count remains to be seen. Ski’s readers did not list Attitash on their top 20 eastern ski areas for 2023. Z Rankings lists the mountain 28th in the East.

Unlike NBA players, ski areas’ careers span generations. In this way, they’re more like the franchises themselves. Sometimes the Lakers have Magic or Kobe, and in some eras, well, they don’t. Attitash just went a few decades without a franchise player. They may have finally drafted one. This is a top-20 New England ski area that may finally be ready to act like it.

What we talked about

The overdue death of the Attitash triple; the story behind the “Mountaineer” lift name; why a high-speed quad was the right replacement lift; take the train to the mountain; what happened to the lift tower that Flying Yankee and Summit Triple shared; expansion opportunities off Attitash Peak; other alignments the ski area considered for Mountaineer; why and where Attitash moved the Mountaineer lift load station; the circa-Peak Resorts Mount Snow intelligentsia; Vail’s culture of internal development and promotion; the unique challenges of running Attitash in a very crowded neighborhood; the Attitash-Wildcat combo; the Progression Quad replacement for the East/West double-double; considering Bear Peak’s lift fleet; why glades disappeared from Attitash’s trailmap, and why they’re back; whether the old Top Notch double chair line could ever enter the official trail network; snowmaking upgrades; how big of an impact the $20-an-hour minimum wage had on Attitash; employee housing; Northeast-specific Epic Passes; and the Epic Day Pass.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

The Mountaineer, of course. For 30 years, successive owners have insisted that Attitash Peak was incompatible with a high-speed quad: too much capacity feeding too few trails from a lift that would cost too much to build.

Well, Vail built it. So Swartz and I discuss why, after saying no for so long, mom finally bought us our expensive toy. I won’t get into that here, because that’s what the podcast is for, but I will make this point: there is a dirt-stupid but persistent narrative that Vail Resorts doesn’t care about its eastern properties, and only bought them to entice monied New Englanders to its western trophies. But, nearly seven years after entering the region with the surprise purchase of Stowe, Vail has done plenty to disprove that notion, launching Northeast-specific Epic Passes in 2020; installing new six-packs at Stowe, Mount Snow, and Okemo; adding high-speed quads at Attitash and Mount Snow; and moving another HSQ at Okemo. It’s been a quiet but complete gut-renovation of what had been some very tired ski areas.

Vail must feel, often, like it can’t win. They’re often framed as elitists for building too much and as cheapskates for investing too little. Social media piles on because their resorts are too busy but also because they’re priced too high. I’ll admit that I criticize them for making lift tickets too expensive and passes too cheap. The Mountaineer, which New England has spent two decades begging for, will likely draw criticism for overcrowding Attitash as skiers soon forget the aches and pains of the Summit Triple.

Skiers can be impossible pains in the ass, no question. But Vail showed up at the steakhouse and came back to the table with the whole buffet. In the five years from 2016 to 2021, Vail purchased 29 ski areas. Prior to that, it owned just 11. That’s nearly a quadrupling of size in half a decade. That would be challenging at any time. Add the Covid face-rearranging, and it was nearly impossible to digest.

After several rough winters, however, Vail may be taming this herd of feral horses. They’re not done yet, but things are calming down. The lift investments are helping, management is stabilizing. They still need to loosen the reigns on snowmaking outside of the West, better limit crowds on peak days, and find a less-gun-to-the-head method of incentivizing Epic Pass sales than $299 lift tickets. But Vail Resorts, as a stable entity rather than a growth monster, is beginning to gel, and Attitash symbolizes that metamorphosis as well as any mountain in the portfolio.

What I got wrong

We alluded to the fact that Attitash would fly the Mountaineer towers on the day we recorded this, Nov. 6. Weather delays pushed that installation to later in the month.

This isn’t something I got wrong at the time, but the Epic Day Pass rates I mentioned were tier four prices. They’ve since increased slightly. Here are the current (and final) rates (the 22-resorts tier gets you in the door at Attitash):

Why you should ski Attitash

Let’s continue the basketball metaphor. Who’s your starting five if New Hampshire is your basketball team? Cannon makes the roster by default, a 2,180-footer with the best terrain in the state. Go ahead and fill out the roster with your other 2,000-footers: Loon, with its jungle gym of fancy upgraded lifts; Wildcat, with its Mount Washington views and high-speed top-to-bottom laps of twisted glory; and sprawling, falling Waterville Valley.

So who’s your number five? I’d accept arguments for gorgeous Mount Sunapee, beefy Bretton Woods, or Attitash. But as captain, I’m probably picking Attitash. Maybe not the Attitash of three years ago, but the Attitash that just got back from Chairlift Camp and can now offer a true, modern ski experience across its two mountains.

But, carve away the cosmetics, and the truth is that Attitash is an incredible ski mountain. That 1,750 vertical feet is all fall line, consistent, beautiful cruisers up and down. It’s not the steepest mountain, or the snowiest, or the most convenient to get to – you’ll drive past Waterville and Loon and Cannon to get there (or not, Route Expert Bro; save it for your Powder DAWGZ WhatsApp chat). But from a pure, freefalling skiing point of view, it’s among the best in the east. Just maybe don’t show up at 11 a.m. on a Saturday.

Podcast Notes

On the Top Notch Double

I’m not sure if anyone ever really loved Attitash’s Summit Triple, but the removal of the parallel Top Notch double in 2018 intensified focus on the summit lift’s shortcomings. Here’s where Top Notch ran (Lift 1 far looker’s left):

No one has ever really given me a good answer as to why former owner Peak Resorts removed that lift without a backup plan, but the timing could not have been worse – the Summit Triple suffered a series of catastrophic mechanical failures in late 2018 and early 2019, effectively shuttering the upper part of Attitash Peak for the bulk of that ski season.

Anyway, once Peak removed the lift, the liftline stayed on the trailmap, suggesting that it may join the official trail network at some point:

But the liftline slowly faded:

This year, the old ghost line is gone completely:

On the shared Flying Yankee-Attitash Summit Triple tower

An engineering quirk of the Summit Triple is that it shared a tower with the Flying Yankee high-speed quad, which crossed below the older lift:

So what happened to that tower? We discuss it in the podcast.

On the train from North Conway

Eventually, U.S. America will have to figure out better ways to tie cities to its mountains. One of the best ways to do this is also one of the oldest: trains. Swartz and I briefly discuss the train that runs from downtown North Conway and drops you at the Attitash base. I looked into this a bit more, and unfortunately it’s more of a novelty than a practical commuter service at this point. It’s expensive ($40 per person roundtrip for coach), slow (the train ride takes around half an hour, compared to a 16-minute drive), and inconvenient, with the first trains arriving at the mountain around 11 a.m. and the latest one departing the mountain at 2:40. Not a great ski day, and the schedule is, for now, fairly limited, running weekends and holidays from the day after Christmas to late February. You can book rides and see details here.

On the Attitash masterplan

Attitash, like all ski areas that sit partially or fully on Forest Service land, is required to file an updated masterplan every so often. Unlike the highly organized western Forest Service divisions, however, which often have their ski area masterplans neatly organized online (three cheers for Colorado’s White River National Forest), eastern districts rarely bother. So, while we discuss the mountain’s masterplan, I couldn’t find it, and the ski area couldn’t readily provide it.

On the Mystery of the Missing Glades

Circa 2011, Attitash’s trailmap called out several named glades on Bear Peak:

By 2020, 10 marked glades appeared across both peaks, though Attitash had removed their names:

By last season, all of them had disappeared:

But this year, some (but not all) of the legacy glades, are back:

What’s going on? We discuss this in the podcast.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 101/100 in 2023, and number 487 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019.

This podcast hit paid subscribers’ inboxes on Dec. 8. It dropped for free subscribers on Dec. 15. To receive future pods as soon as they’re live, and to support independent ski journalism, please consider an upgrade to a paid subscription. You can also subscribe to the free tier below:

Who

Benjamin Bartz, General Manager of Snowriver, Michigan

Recorded on

November 13, 2023

About Snowriver

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Midwest Family Ski Resorts

Located in: Wakefield (Jackson Creek Summit) and Bessemer (Black River Basin), Michigan

Year founded: 1959 (Jackson Creek, as Indianhead) and 1977 (Black River Basin, as Blackjack)

Pass affiliations:

Legendary Pass (also includes varying access to Lutsen Mountains, Minnesota and Granite Peak, Wisconsin)

* Gold: unlimited access

* Silver: unlimited access

* Bronze: unlimited midweek access with holiday blackouts

The Indy Base Pass and Indy+ Pass also include two Snowriver days with no blackouts

Closest neighboring ski areas: Big Powderhorn (:14), Mt. Zion Ski Hill (:17), Whitecap Mountains (:39); Porkies Winter Sports Complex (:48)

Base elevation:

* Jackson Creek: 1,212 feet

* Black River Basin: 1,185 feet

Summit elevation:

* Jackson Creek: 1,750 feet

* Black River Basin: 1,675 feet

Vertical drop:

* Jackson Creek: 538 feet

* Black River Basin: 490 feet

Skiable Acres: 400 (both ski areas combined)

* Jackson Creek: 230

* Black River Basin: 170

Average annual snowfall: 200 inches

Trail count: 71 trails, 17 glades, 3 terrain parks

* Jackson Creek: 43 trails, 11 glades, 2 terrain parks

* Black River Basin: 28 trails, 6 glades, 1 terrain park

Lift count: 11 (1 six-pack, 6 doubles, 1 T-bar, 2 ropetows, 1 carpet)

* Jackson Creek Summit: 6 (1 six-pack, 2 doubles, 1 T-bar, 1 ropetow, 1 carpet)

* Black River Basin: 5 (4 doubles, 1 ropetow)

View historic Snowriver trailmaps on skimap.org.

Why I interviewed him

I could tell this story as a Michigan story, as a young skier still awed by the far-off Upper Peninsula, that remote and wild and snowy realm Up North and Over the Bridge. I could tell it as a weather story, of glacial bumps bullseyed in the greatest of the Great Lakes snowbelts. Or as a story of a run-down complex tumbling into hyper-change, or one that activated the lifts in 1978 and just left them spinning. It’s an Indy Pass story, a ski area with better skiing than infrastructure that will give you a where’s-everyone-else kind of ski day. And it’s a Midwest Family Ski Resorts (MFSR) story, skiing’s version of a teardown, where nothing is sacred and everything will change and all you can do is stand back and watch the wrecking ball swing and the scaffolding go up the sides.

Each of these is tempting, and the podcast is inevitably a mash-up. Writing about the Midwest will always be personal to me. The UP is that Great Otherplace, where the snow is bottomless and everything is cheap and everyone is somewhere else. Snowriver is both magnificently retro and badly in need of updating. And it is a good ski area and a solid addition to the Indy Pass.

But, more than anything, the story of Snowriver is the story of MFSR and the Skinner family. There is no better ski area operator. They have equals but no betters. You know how when a certain actor or director gets involved in something, or when a certain athlete moves to a new team, you think, “Man, that’s gonna be good.” They project excellence. Everything they touch absorbs it. Did you know that one man, Shigeru Miyamoto, invented, among others, the Donkey Kong, Mario Brothers, Legend of Zelda, and Star Fox franchises, and has directed or produced every sequel of every game for four decades? Time calls him “the Spielberg of video games.” Well, the Skinners are the Spielberg – or perhaps the Miyamoto – of Midwest skiing. Everything they touch becomes the best version of that thing that it can achieve.

What we talked about

Snowriver’s new six-pack lift; why Snowriver removed three chairlifts but only added one; the sixer’s all-new line; why Midwest Family Ski Resorts (MFSR) upgraded this lift first; the rationale behind a high-speed lift on a 538-vertical-foot hill; knocking 100 vertical feet off Jackson Creek Summit’s advertised vertical drop; “Voyager” versus “Voyageur”; swapping out the old Poma for a handletow; the UP snowbelt; the bad old days of get out of the trees you blasted kids!; Gogebic Community College’s ski area management program; Mt. Zion, Michigan; Giants Ridge, Minnesota; the Big Snow time capsule; why MFSR purchased Snowriver; Mount Bohemia; changing the name from “Big Snow” to “Snowriver”; where an interconnect lift could run and what sort of lift it could be; why Snowriver renamed all the lifts and many trails on the Black River Basin side; potential future lift upgrades on both sides of the resort; potential terrain expansion; new and renamed trails and 17 new glades on the 2023-24 trailmap; the small parcel of Snowriver that sits on U.S. Forest Service land; why Black River Basin is only open Thursday through Sunday; and a joint pass to Snowriver, Granite Peak, and Lutsen.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

The entity now known as Midwest Family Ski Resorts has been running ski areas for decades. I’ve been running The Storm for four years. So by the time I launched in 2019 and then expanded out of the Northeast in 2021, MFSR had already transformed Granite Peak and Lutsen into modern Midwestern giants. Their work on Granite had been particularly impressive, as they’d transformed Wisconsin’s beat-up and decrepit Rib Mountain into a sprawling and modern ski area.

I mean look at this dump:

And here’s the same ski area in 2023:

So what a gift when, last year, the company announced the purchase of the side-by-side time capsules then known as Indianhead and Blackjack. A rare chance to see that Skinner magic uncorked on a beat-up backwater, to watch, in real time, that transformation into something humming and hefty and modern.

Most multi-mountain operators buy diamonds, ski areas already streamlined and upgraded and laced with modern machines. MFSR digs deeper, finds coal, then pounds it into its final form. It’s a rough and expensive way to go, but the strategy carries the great advantage of maximum flexibility to sculpt a mountain into your daydream.

The dream at Snowriver is straightforward but impossibly complex: modernize the snowmaking, chairlifts, bedbase, trail network, and grooming; connect the two ski areas with an aerial lift; and establish this snowy but remote complex as a legitimate midwestern destination ski resort. MFSR has, as expected, moved quickly, rebranding the resort; removing five(!) lifts from the Jackson Creek Summit side and building an outrageously expensive six-pack; and making dozens of subtle tweaks to the trail network, adding new runs, renaming lifts and trails, and dropping more than a dozen marked glades onto the trailmap.

This period of rapid change, pronounced as it is, will likely be viewed, historically, as a simple prelude. MFSR is not the sort of operator that lays out grand plans and then glances at them through its binoculars every three years. They plan and tear s**t apart and build and build and build. They act how every skier thinks they would act were they to purchase their own ski area. The difference is that MFSR has money, ambition, and a history of transformational action. Watch, amazed, as this thing grows.

Questions I wish I’d asked

Bartz started Ben’s Blog, a cool little update series on Snowriver’s goings-on. I wanted to get into his motivation and mission here, but we were running long.

I also wanted to get into a unique feature of Snowriver a bit more: the huge amount of onsite lodging, which was a big motivating factor in MFSR’s purchase, and a large part of the vision for building a sustainable destination ski resort in a region that has struggled to support one.

What I got wrong

I said that the four Black River Basin Riblet chairlifts dated to the 1970s, and then corrected myself to say that “I believe” one dated to the ‘80s. Ascender, Brigantine, and Draw Stroke date to 1977; Capstan was installed in 1983.

Why you should ski Snowriver

Ever wonder what it’s like to ski in 1978? Pull up to Black River Basin, boot up, and walk over to the lifts. There, you just time traveled. Centerpole Riblet doubles, painted ‘Nam chopper green, squeaking uphill, not a safety bar in sight. There’s snowmaking, but most of the snow you’re skiing on blew in off the big lake 11 miles north. Skiers in their modern fat skis and helmets would blow the illusion, but there are no other skiers to be found.

Then a kid skis by, backpack speaker booming, and you’re like, “OK phew for a second I thought I’d really time-traveled and would be forced to do things like drive around the block without navigation assistance and carry around a camera that was not also a supercomputer and required $15 to purchase and develop 24 photographs.”

If Black River Basin is the past, then Jackson Creek Summit is the future. That sixer landed like an Abrams tank on a Civil War battlefield. I took this video of the old summit double last February:

Now look at the top of the six-pack, which sits on more or less the same spot:

Wild, right? Snowriver is going to keep changing, and it will keep changing fast. Go see it before you miss what it was, so you can truly appreciate what it will become.

Podcast Notes

On the four removed chairlifts on the Jackson Creek Summit side

Snowriver’s new six-pack directly or indirectly replaces four old lifts. The resort also switched up the trail network, with a bunch of new glades and a handful of reconfigured trails. Check out the Jackson Creek Summit side of the resort’s trailmap from pre-sixer and then today (note, also, all the newly marked glades and renamed trails):

On the new trails on the Black River Basin side

MFSR has also renamed most of the lifts and trails on the Black River Basin side, and removed a handle tow (which is now on the Jackson Creek Summit side). Here’s a side-by-side of the ski area’s 2018 and 2023 trailmaps:

On Gogebic Community College and Mt. Zion

So you can actually earn a college degree in ski area management. There are a few schools that do this, one of which is Michigan’s Gogebic Community College. From the program’s overview page:

Overview

The Ski Area Management Program at GCC is one of the nation's most comprehensive training programs for individuals interested in pursuing a career in the snow sport industry. Technical and academic study is combined with a practical internship which is conducted at major resorts throughout Coast to Coast.  A valid driver's license is required for completion of this program.

Unique Features

Students spend their freshman year and the first eight weeks of their sophomore year completing prerequisite courses. During this period, the Mt. Zion Recreation Complex is utilized as a training laboratory. Mt. Zion is our college-owned and operated winter sport complex located on campus which is open to the public.  

Co-op

The Cooperative Work Experience assignment (Co-op) is the capstone of the Ski Area Management Program. All sophomore Students participate in the five month internship where they gain important operational experience in an actual resort environment.

The huge advantage that Mt. Zion has over similar programs is that it owns an on-site ski area, Mt. Zion. While this is just a 300-vertical-foot bump served by a double chair, it’s laced with some twisty fun little runs fed by 200 inches of annual lake effect:

On Giants Ridge

Bartz really launched his career as Mountain Operations Manager at Giants Ridge, a 500-footer in the Northern Minnesota hinterlands. Here’s the most recent trailmap:

On the UP snowbelt

For such a remote area, the UP is home to one of the densest concentrations of ski areas in America. Five ski areas sit within a 21-mile stretch along the Wisconsin-Michigan border: Whitecap (in Wisconsin), and Mt. Zion, Big Powderhorn, and the two Snowriver ski areas, all in Michigan. Here’s how they line up:

On the proximity of MFSR’s portfolio

MFSR’s three ski areas are, as a unit, really well positioned to serve the major Midwestern cities of Minneapolis-St. Paul, Milwaukee, and Chicago. Here’s where they sit in relation to one another:

And here’s the distance table between them:

On Rick Schmitz

Rick Schmitz – who owns Little Switzerland, Nordic Mountain, and The Rock Snowpark in Wisconsin – once owned Blackjack, now Black River Basin. He relays that experience, and why he ultimately sold his interest in the ski area, starting at the 39:40 mark of this podcast we recorded together last year:

On Mount Bohemia

Boho is, as I’ve written many times, one of the most amazing and unique ski areas in America. It has no grooming, no snowmaking, and no beginner terrain. It’s lodged at the ass-end of nowhere, on a peninsula hanging off a peninsula in the fiery middle of Lake Superior. While regional lore credits (or blames) the renaissance of MFSR’s Granite Peak with looting Snowriver’s skiers, the rise of Bohemia, which opened in 2000, surely drew more advanced skiers farther north. Here’s a trailmap:

And here’s a conversation I recorded with Boho owner, founder, and president Lonie Glieberman last year:

On two ski areas becoming one

For decades, the two Snowriver ski areas now known as Jackson Creek Summit and Black River Basin were separate, competing entities known, respectively, as Indianhead and Blackjack. Observe the varied style of trailmaps of recent vintage:

At some point, the same entity took possession of both hills and introduced the “Big Snow Resort” umbrella name. Each ski area retained its legacy name, as you can see in this joint trailmap circa 2018:

Then, last year, MFSR changed the umbrella name from “Big Snow” to “Snowriver,” and changed the name of each ski area (though they framed this as “base area renamings”) from Indianhead and Blackjack to Jackson Creek Summit and Black River Basin, respectively. I broke down the name change when MFSR announced it last September.

On the Snowriver interconnect

Bartz provided outlines of four potential interconnect lines. In all cases, Jackson Creek Summit sits on the left, and Black River Basin is on the right:

On US 2

The Snowriver ski areas both sit off of US 2, a startling fact, perhaps, for skiers who use the same road to access ski areas as far-flung as Stevens Pass, Washington and Sunday River, Maine. US 2 is, in fact, a 2,571-mile-long road that runs in two segments: from Everett, Washington to St. Ignace, Michigan; then breaking for Canada before picking up in northern New York and running across Vermont and New Hampshire into Maine. It is the northernmost cross-country east-west highway in America. Ski areas that sit along or near the route include Stevens Pass and Mt. Spokane, Washington; Schweitzer, Idaho; Blacktail and Whitefish, Montana; Spirit Mountain, Minnesota; Big Powderhorn, Mt. Zion, Snowriver, Ski Brule, and Pine Mountain, Michigan; Bolton Valley, Vermont; and Sunday River, Titcomb, and Hermon Mountain, Maine; among others.

On the Legendary Pass

For the 2023-24 ski season, MFSR dispensed with offering single-mountain season passes, and combined all three of its properties onto the Legendary Pass. The gold tier, which is now sold out, debuted at $675 last spring. The Silver tier ran $475 early bird, which is not a material increase from the $419 Snowriver-only 2021-22 season pass (which did not include any Granite or Lutsen access):

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Who

Shaun Sutner, snowsports columnist for the Worcester Telegram & Gazette and Telegram.com

Recorded on

November 20, 2023

About Shaun Sutner

Shaun is a skier, a writer, and a journalist based in Worcester, Massachusetts. For the past 19 years, he’s written a snowsports column from Thanksgiving to April. For the past three years, he’s joined me on The Storm Skiing Podcast to discuss that column, but also to talk all things New England skiing (and beyond). You should follow Shaun on social media to stay locked into his work:

Why I interviewed him

Last month, I clicked open a SNOWBOARDER email newsletter and found this headline slotted under “trending news”:

Yikes, I thought. Not again. I clicked through to the story. In full:

Tensions simmered as disgruntled Stevens Pass skiers, clutching their "Epic Passes," rallied against Vail Resorts' alleged mismanagement. The discontent echoed through an impassioned petition, articulating a litany of grievances: excessive lift lines, scant open terrain, inadequate staffing, and woeful parking, painting a dismal portrait of a beloved winter haven.

Fueled by a sense of betrayal, the signatories lamented a dearth of ski-ready slopes despite ample snowfall, bemoaning Vail Resorts' purported disregard for both patrons and employees. Their frustration soared at the stark contrast to neighboring ski areas, thriving under similar conditions.

The petition's fervor escalated, challenging the ethics of selling passes without delivering promised services, highlighting derisory wages juxtaposed against corporate profiteering. The collective call-to-action demanded reparation, invoking consumer protection laws and even prodding the involvement of the Attorney General and the U.S. Forest Service.

Yet, amidst their resolve, a poignant melancholy pervaded—the desire to relish the slopes overshadowed by a battle for justice. The signatories yearned for equitable winter joys, dreaming of swift resolutions and an end to the clash with corporate giants, vowing to safeguard the legacy of snow sports for generations to come.

As the petition gathered momentum, a snowstorm of change loomed on the horizon, promising either reconciliation or a paradigm shift in the realm of winter recreation.

The “impassioned petition” in question is dated Dec. 28, 2021. In the nearly two intervening years, Vail Resorts has fired Stevens Pass’ GM, brought in a highly respected local (Tom Fortune) who had spent decades at the ski area to stabilize things (Fortune and I discussed this at length on the podcast), and installed a new, young GM (Ellen Galbraith), with deep roots in the area (I also hosted Galbraith on the podcast). Last ski season (2022-23), was a smooth one at Stevens Pass. And while Skier Mob is never truly happy with anything, the petition in question flared, faded, and went into hibernation approximately 18 months before Snowboarder got around to this story. Yes, there were issues at Stevens Pass. Vail fixed them. The end.

The above-cited story is also overwritten, under-contextualized, and borderline slanderous. “Derisory wages?” Vail has since raised its minimum wage to $20 an hour. To stand there and aim a scanny-beepy thing at skiers as they approach the lift queue. Sounds like hell on earth.

Perhaps I missed the joke here, and this is some sort of snowy Onion. I do hate to call out other writers. But this is a particularly lazy exhibit of the core problem with modern snowsports writing: most of it is not very good. The non-ski media will humor us with the occasional piece, but these tend to be dumbed down for a general audience. The legacy ski media as a functioning editorial entity no longer exists. There are just a few holdouts, at newspapers across the country, telling the local story of skiing as best they can.

And in New England, one of the best doing his best to produce respectable snowsports writing is Shaun Sutner.

What we talked about

New England resort-hopping; how to set and meet a season ski-days goal; Brobots hate safety bars; the demise and resurgence of Black Mountain, New Hampshire; why Magic Mountain works; what it means that Ski Ward was the first ski area in America to open for the 2023-24 ski season; the Uphill New England pass; why Vail and Alterra still offer free uphill access at all their New England ski areas; how to not be an uphill A-hole; the No Boundaries Pass; which passes New England’s remaining big independent ski areas could join; the proposed Stowe-Smuggs gondola connection; when development benefits the environment; could Vail buy Smuggs?; the Little Cottonwood Canyon gondola; finally replacing the Attitash triple; Vail’s New England lift-building surge; Boyne goes bonkers in New England; the new Barker lift at Sunday River; the West Mountain expansion at Sugarloaf; the South Peak expansion at Loon; New England’s chairlift renaissance; Black Quad at Magic; a Cannon tram upgrade; Berkshire East’s first high-speed lift; Wachusett lift upgrades; and Quebec’s secret snow pocket.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

Sutner and I have this conversation every Thanksgiving week, which is when his column launches. I think I need to start scheduling it earlier, because I haven’t been able to turn this around so fast the past two seasons. Here are excerpts and links to his first few columns of the 2023-24 ski season:

Nov. 23

Snow sports: Ski resort lift upgrades should boost industry in New England

The most despised lift in New England ski country is no more.

The ponderously slow, sometimes treacherous summit triple chair at Attitash that has long been a staple of hardcore Massachusetts skiers and snowboarders, is gone.

"No one ever thought this was ever going to really happen," Brandon Swartz, general manager of the Mount Washington Valley classic ski area in Bartlett, New Hampshire, told me. "I just couldn’t be more excited to help build the lift that no one ever thought was going to get built."

Whether the old summit lift's swift new replacement, the high-speed detachable Mountaineer quad, will be ready for Christmas week as Colorado-based owner Vail Resorts expects, is yet to be seen as Attitash is still furiously working on it in the eighth month of the project. But it's the most welcome ski-lift replacement in our region in decades, I think, finally providing convenient access to the passel of glorious snaking steep and challenging intermediate runs from the top in half the 16-18-minute ride time of the old 1986 triple. Read more…

Nov. 29

'It was shocking and beautiful': Trip to Argentina, Antarctica memorable for Lunenburg's Riddle

This wasn't Riddle's first time tackling demanding backcountry terrain in forbidding terrain, nor is this the first time I've written about him, having chronicled his previous trips to Chamonix in the French Alps and Norway. Riddle is the guy who got me into alpine touring – the Alpine-Nordic hybrid that involves hiking up mountains on skis with climbing skins affixed to the bases and then removing the skins and locking down the boot heels for the descent – seven or eight years ago. He's also won the Wachusett Mountain pond skim contest three times, leading to word on the street that he's been banned from taking that coveted title ever again.

But this adventure was of a bigger order of magnitude than his previous ventures into big mountains. Read more…

Dec. 6

New BOA ski boot hopes its unique fit will provide a leg up on competition

No, it's not named after a boa constrictor, though it does wrap around your foot kind of like a snake.

BOA stands for "boot opening adjustment" and it’s the trademarked brand name of the company that has made the lace and wire and dial adjust-based closure systems since 2001 and adapted them to snowboard and race bike boots, Nordic gear, ice and in-line skates and other applications,

Now BOA has brought the system to Alpine ski boots. Oversized protruding knobs and an intricate wire system go over the forefoot instead of buckles and wrap the instep and can make micro-adjustments in either direction – tighter or looser. Proponents say they just fit better, while skeptics point out they're a bit heavier and their durability still hasn’t been proven on a wide scale yet for the Alpine version. Read more…

His column lands every Wednesday through spring.

What I got wrong

About Magic Mountain, Vermont

I said that Magic was out of business for “five years.” The best info I can find (on New England Ski History), suggests that the ski area closed following the 1990-91 season, and didn’t re-open until December 1997, which would put the closure at closer to six-and-a-half years.

About the Indy Pass

I referred to Erik Mogensen as the “Indy Pass founder.” He is the pass’ current owner, but Doug Fish, who has joined me on the podcast many times, founded the product.

About Saddleback

I didn’t hear Sutner correctly when he asked if Saddleback was “a B corporation,” which is a business that “is meeting high standards of verified performance, accountability, and transparency on factors from employee benefits and charitable giving to supply chain practices and input materials.” I thought he’d asked if they were owned by a larger corporation, and my answer reflects that understanding (but does not answer his question), as I go into the history of Arctaris Impact Fund’s purchase of Saddleback. The only ski area that has achieved B Corporation certification, as far as I know, is Taos.

About words being hard

I described Vail and Alterra as “big, corporate conglomerations.” Which, I’m sorry.

About there being too many things in this world to keep track of

I forgot the name of Spruce Peak at Stowe when describing the ski area’s connection point with Smugglers’ Notch. Which is funny because I’ve written about it extensively over the past several months, skied there many times, and in general try to remember the important components of prominent ski areas.

About my personal calendar

I said that I skied at Big Sky “last year.” I meant “last season,” as I actually was there in April 2023.

On time being fungible

I said that Magic’s Black Quad has been sitting in the ski area’s parking lot for “about four years.” This is inaccurate for a couple different reasons. First, the lift – Stratton’s old Snow Bowl lift – came out in 2018 (so more than five years ago). I don’t know when Magic took delivery of the lift. At any rate, installation began several years ago, so it’s not accurate to say that the lift has been “sitting in the parking lot.” What I meant was that it’s taken Magic a hell of a long time to get this machine live, which no one can dispute.

Podcast Notes

On motorcycle helmet laws

We briefly discuss the almost universal shift to wearing helmets while skiing in the context of motorcycle helmet laws, which are not as ubiquitous as you’d suppose. Only 18 states require all riders to wear helmets at all times. The remainder set an age limit – typically 18 or 21. Three states – Iowa, Illinois, and New Hampshire – have no helmet law at all.

On non-profit ski areas

Erik Mogensen, owner of Entabeni Systems and Indy Pass, is leading the coalition to find a new owner for Black Mountain, New Hampshire. He’s said many times that around a quarter of America’s ski areas need “another ownership solution.” He expanded on this in SAM a few weeks back:

I think about 25 percent of the non-corporate ski areas in North America need another ownership solution. That doesn’t necessarily mean that it needs to be nonprofit. There are a lot of liabilities in having a group of volunteers or board of directors try to run a ski area from a nonprofit status. I’m definitely a capitalist, and there can be issues with nonprofits that I don’t think we’ve solved yet in skiing.

If we look at the nonprofits that have run very well, Bridger Bowl and Bogus Basin particularly, they focused around running the ski area as a for-profit business with a nonprofit backend, if you will.

I’ve also seen a lot of ski areas struggle with trying to run the nonprofit model. So I don’t necessarily believe that a nonprofit model is something that we should copy and paste. But I do believe it’s a front runner that needs to be adjusted and adopted. And we do need a solution for the 25 percent. It’s very hard to make some of areas commercially viable on their own.

On the “unfriendly” lift attendants at Ski Ward

I recently gave Ski Ward some positive run, highlighting the fact that they were the first ski area to open in America in 2023. It was a cool story and they deserved the attention.

However, I have a conflicted history with this place, as Sutner and I joked on the podcast. I had one of my worst ski experiences ever there, mostly because the lift attendants – at least on the day of my visit – were complete a******s. As I wrote after a visit on Feb. 1, 2022:

Ski Ward, 25 miles southwest, makes Nashoba Valley look like Aspen. A single triple-chair rising 220 vertical feet. A T-bar beside that. Some beginner surface lifts lower down. Off the top three narrow trails that are steep for approximately six feet before leveling off for the run-out back to the base. It was no mystery why I was the only person over the age of 14 skiing that evening.

Normally my posture at such community- and kid-oriented bumps is to trip all over myself to say every possible nice thing about its atmosphere and mission and miraculous existence in the maw of the EpKonasonics. But this place was awful. Like truly unpleasant. My first indication that I had entered a place of ingrained dysfunction was when I lifted the safety bar on the triple chair somewhere between the final tower and the exit ramp and the liftie came bursting out of his shack like he’d just caught me trying to steal his chickens. “The sign is there,” he screamed, pointing frantically at the “raise bar here” sign jutting up below the top station just shy of unload. At first I didn’t realize he was talking to me and so I ignored him and this offended him to the point where he – and this actually happened – stopped the chairlift and told me to come back up the ramp so he could show me the sign. I declined the opportunity and skied off and away and for the rest of the evening I waited until I was exactly above his precious sign before raising the safety bar.

All night, though, I saw this b******t. Large, aggressive, angry men screaming – screaming – at children for this or that safety-bar violation. The top liftie laid off me once he realized I was a grown man, but it was too late. Ski Ward has a profoundly broken customer-service culture, built on bullying little kids on the pretext of lift safety. Someone needs to fix this. Now.

Look, I am not anti-lift bar. I put it down every time, unless I am out West and riding with some version of Studly Bro who is simply too f*****g cool for such nonsense. But that was literally my 403rd chairlift ride of the season and my 2,418th since I began tracking ski stats on my Slopes app in 2018. Never have I been lectured over the timing of my safety-bar raise. So I was surprised. But if Ski Ward really wants to run their chairlifts with the rulebook specificity of a Major League Baseball game, all they have to do is say, “Excuse me, Sir, can you please wait to get to the sign before raising your bar next time?” That would have worked just as well, and would have saved them this flame job. For a place that caters to children, they need to do much, much better.

On Uphill New England

We go pretty deep on the purpose and utility of the Uphill New England pass, which allows you to skin up and ski down these 13 ski areas:

On the Granite Backcountry Alliance

Sutner also mentions the Granite Backcountry Alliance, which is a group that promotes backcountry skiing in New Hampshire and Western Maine. Here’s the group’s self-described mission:

New Hampshire and Western Maine are blessed with a rich ski history that includes a deep heritage of backcountry skiing from Mt. Washington’s Tuckerman Ravine to the many ski trails developed by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) of the 1930’s (some of which still remain today). The celebration of the sport of skiing is embedded in the culture of the area.

While backcountry skiing’s resurgence has captivated a new user base, it is also now a measurable, undeniable force in the industry and is the fastest growing segment of the sport. The demand is strong but the terrain in New Hampshire and Western Maine is limited by the tree density, glade supply, and legal access to the forests and mountains.

GBA resolves to improve the playing field for backcountry skiers. Creating and developing ski glades, however, is not the only objective of the group. Improving the foundation of the sport is critical to future success, such as creating partnerships and collaboration with public and private landowners, education regarding safety and ecological awareness, and creating a unified culture – one that respects the land and its owners and does not permit unauthorized cutting.

We are part of a movement of human-powered activities that is the basis for an emerging outdoor economy. We believe this movement has broad implications on areas like NH's North Country and it can develop with committed folks like yourself .  It's the last frontier!  So join us by stepping up to support the cause; the ability to organize is a powerful tool to steward our own future.

On the proposed Stowe-Smuggs gondola connection

I wrote a bit about the proposed gondola connection between Stowe and Smugglers’ Notch earlier this year:

Seated just a half mile from the top of Smuggs’ mainly intermediate Sterling Mountain is the top of Stowe’s Spruce Peak. Skiers had been skating between the two resorts for decades. Why not connect the two mountains – both widely considered among the best ski areas in New England – with a fast, modern lift? A sort of Alta-Snowbird – or at least a Solitude-Brighton – of the East? Two owners, one interconnected ski experience.

“We have the possibility of creating what we think will be a very unique ski and riding experience by connecting these two resorts,” said Stritzler. “I don't believe in marketing this way, but all you have to do is do trail counts and acreage and elevations, and pretty soon you get to the conclusion that if you can offer Smugglers’ guests the opportunity to also take advantage of what Stowe has to offer, and you can offer the two in some kind of combination through a connecting lift, well, now suddenly you're not quite so nervous about all the consolidation taking place, because you’ve got something to respond with.”

Here's the proposed line:

Smuggs later withdrew their plans amid a cool reception from state officials. Resort officials are recalibrating their strategy in backrooms, they’ve told me, re-analyzing the project from an economic-impact point of view. More to come on that.

On the Little Cottonwood Canyon gondola

Without question, the most contentious ski-related development in North America right now is the proposed Little Cottonwood Canyon gondola, which would essentially remove most cars from a cluttered, avalanche-prone road and move the resort base area down below the major snowline. Various protest groups, however, are acting as though this is a proposal to bulldoze the mountains and replace them private mud baths for billionaires. Personally, I think the gondola makes a hell of a lot of sense:

But every time I write about it on Twitter, a not-immaterial number of perfectly sane individuals advises me to f**k off and die, so I’d say there’s some emotion invested in this one.

On the Attitash triple replacement

Sutner and I go pretty deep on Attitash swapping out its Summit Triple chair for a brand-new high-speed quad. I also discussed this extensively with Attitash GM Brandon Swartz on a recent podcast episode (starting at 6:12):

On Ski Inc.

We touch briefly on Ski Inc., a fantastic history of the modern ski industry by the late Chris Diamond. If you like this newsletter, Ski Inc. and its sequel, Ski Inc. 2020, are must-reads.

On Wachusett’s lifts

We discuss Wachusett’s proposed upgrade of the Polar Express from a high-speed quad to, perhaps, a six-pack. Here’s the trailmap for context:

On Wachusett’s blocked expansion

Despite its immense popularity, Wachusett is probably stuck in its current footprint indefinitely, as Sutner and I discuss. A bit more context from New England Ski History:

As the 1993-94 season progressed, Wachusett pushed forward with its expansion plans, requesting to cut two new trails, widen Balance Rock, install a second chairlift to the summit, expand the base lodge, and add 375 parking spots. The plans were met with environmental, archaeological, and water quality concerns. …

In August 1995, environmentalists located a stand of 295-year-old oak trees where Wachusett had planned to cut a new expert trail. Though the Crowleys quickly offered to adjust plans to minimize impact, opposition mounted. Plans for the new trail were abandoned a few months later. …

In the spring of 1998, Wachusett proposed a scaled back expansion that avoided the old growth forest and instead called for the construction of a snowboard park consisting of two trails and a lift. Around this time, environmentalists announced the discovery of bootleg ski trails on the mountain. The Sierra Club quickly called for the state to terminate Wachusett Mountain Associates' ski area lease, despite not knowing who did the cutting.

So, yeah, 99 problems, Man.

On two Le Massifs (de Charlevoix and de Sud)

So apparently there are two Le Massifs in Quebec, which would have been handy context to have when I wrote about the larger of the two joining the Mountain Collective last year. That Le Massif – Le Massif de Charlevoix – is quite the banger, with 250 inches of average annual snowfall and a 2,526-foot vertical drop on 406 acres:

Massif de Sud is still a nice little hill, with 236 inches of average annual snowfall and a 1,312-foot vertical drop, but on just 127 skiable acres:

On The Powell Movement

Sutner mentions an upcoming column he’ll write about The Powell Movement podcast. It really is a terrific show, and covers the parts of the ski industry that I ignore (so, like, most of it). Check it out.

The Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us.

The Storm publishes year-round, and guarantees 100 articles per year. This is article 108/100 in 2023, and number 493 since launching on Oct. 13, 2019.

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Who

Greg Gavrilets, General Manager of Mt. Rose, Nevada

Recorded on

November 27, 2023

About Mt. Rose

View the mountain stats overview

Owned by: The Buser family

Located in: Incline Village, Nevada

Year founded: 1964

Pass affiliations: None

Reciprocal partners: None

Closest neighboring ski areas: Sky Tavern (:03), Diamond Peak (:15), Northstar (:28), Homewood (:44), Palisades Tahoe (:45), Tahoe Donner (:48), Boreal (:49), Donner Ski Ranch (:51), Sugar Bowl (:52), Soda Springs (:53), Heavenly (:56). Travel times vary considerably given weather conditions, time of day, and time of year.

Base elevation: 7,900 feet (bottom of Chuter lift)

Summit elevation: 9,700 feet

Vertical drop: 1,800 feet

Skiable Acres: 1,200+

Average annual snowfall: 350 inches

Trail count: 70+ (10% expert double black, 40% black, 30% intermediate blue, 20% beginner green)

Lift count: 8 (2 six-packs, 1 high-speed quad, 2 fixed-grip quads, 1 triple, 1 carpet, 1 “Little Mule”)

View historic Mt. Rose trailmaps on skimap.org.

Why I interviewed him

There’s something so damn dramatic about skiing around Tahoe. The lake, yes, but it’s also the Sierra Nevada, heaving and brutal, pitched as though crafted for skiing, evergreens loper-spaced apart. It’s the snow, piled like pizza boxes in a hoarder’s apartment, ever-higher, too much to count or comprehend (well, some years). It’s the density, the always knowing that, like some American Alps, there is always another ski center past the one you’re riding and the one you can see from there and the one you can see beyond that.

Mt. Rose is one of just three Tahoe ski areas that sits fully on the Nevada side of the lake (the other two are Diamond Peak and Sky Tavern; Heavenly straddles the California-Nevada border). That whole Nevada thing can sap some of the Tahoe mystique. What is Nevada, after all, to most of us, but desert, dry, wide-open, and empty? I once slipped into a hallucinogenic state of borderline psychosis on a 122-degree drive Vegas-bound across Interstate 15. I was dead sober but sleep-deprived and in a truck with no air-conditioning the rippling distances tore my soul into potpourri and scattered it about the alien planet I became convinced I was crossing.

But Nevada is a ski state, and Mt. Rose is its finest ski area. As the truest locals’ bump on the block, it is a crucial piece of the Tahoe Zeitgeist, the place that tourists don’t bother with, and that locals bother with specifically because of that fact.

There are a handful of communities in America that count as their home bump a big, thrilling ski area that is not also a major tourist attraction. Bogus Basin, outside of Boise; Mt. Spokane, Washington; Montana Snowbowl, looming over Missoula. Where you can mainline the big-mountain experience sans the enervation of crowds. Mt. Rose is one of those places, a good, big ski area without all the overwhelm we’ve come to associate with them.

What we talked about

Early-season openings; assessing the Lakeview chairlift upgrade after year one; why Mt. Rose doesn’t operate into May; extending the ski day after Daylight Savings; could night skiing ever work at Mt. Rose?; living through 668 inches of snow; Ober Mountain; the upside of starting your career at a small ski area; the brilliance of Peak Resorts; where Vail went right and wrong in their acquisition of Peak; the existential challenges of Paoli Peaks; the Very Bad 2021-22 ski season at Attitash; fortress mentality; convincing Vail to upgrade the Attitash Summit Triple; what Gavrilets found when he showed up at Mt. Rose on Saturday of President’s Weekend; how the Busers built Mt. Rose into a first-rate ski area; why the family considered selling Mt. Rose around 2017, and ultimately reversed course; committed to independence; “We’re over $100 cheaper than Palisades for a full-day lift ticket”; how Slide Mountain, Mt. Rose, and Sky Tavern settled into their modern footprints; Mt. Rose’s potential expansion; whether a ski connection between Sky Tavern and Mt. Rose could exist; future lift upgrade priorities; how The Chutes changed Mt. Rose’s profile; slopeside lodging; destination potential?; the potential for a tram up to the ski area from Reno; and why Mt. Rose hasn’t joined any multi-mountain passes.

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

Few ski areas have more aggressively modernized since the turn of the century than Mt. Rose. The mountain dropped its first sixer (Northwest Express), in the ground in 2000, and opened its second (Zephyr), the year it opened The Chutes, one of the most singular terrain pods in the American West. In the intervening years, Rose has shuffled around and modernized the remainder of its lifts, and last year dropped a high-speed quad in place of the old Lakeview triple. The snowmaking system is one of the best in Tahoe. Next up: an expansion across the highway to intermediate terrain that would hang over Sky Tavern.

Like Arapahoe Basin, whose oldest chairlift is a 2007 Leitner-Poma fixed-grip quad, Mt. Rose has quietly modernized amid the giants that were destined to destroy it. This isn’t supposed to be the story. The story is supposed to be Corporate Conglomerates Are Killing Skiing!!! But they’re not. Mt. Rose proves that in Tahoe like A-Basin proves it on the I-70 mainline.

Skiers in Reno could easily drive up to Northstar or Heavenly or Palisades Tahoe. But Gavrilets tells us that Mt. Rose is doing better than ever, in spite of the fact that the ski area has no slopeside lodging, no megapass affiliation, and no name recognition outside of a couple-hundred mile radius. Why do you suppose that is?

Mt. Rose is a counterintuitive case-study in why so many assumptions about modern skiing are wrong. A place in the market exists for a family-owned and -operated ski area that focuses on delivering a good product at an inflation-adjusted price that would not make a time traveler from 1965 gasp with horror “But that costs more than my car!”

I can’t always tell you what’s wrong with skiing, but I usually know what’s right when I see it. And just about everything that Mt. Rose is doing feels exactly right.

What I got wrong

I mispronounced the name of Mt. Rose’s owners, pronouncing “Buser” like “Bus-er” (wrong), rather than “Boozer” (right).

Why you should ski Mt. Rose

Well there are The Chutes:

And all the beefcake lifts:

And the 30-minute drive from the airport, meaning that when you fly in to ski Palisades or Heavenly, you can stop and clock a half day at Mt. Rose for $69:

And the manageable liftlines, and the parking right at the base of the lifts, and the 350 inches of average annual snowfall. This may not be your ski Narnia, your endless empty, but it’s a less-frantic version of whatever they have down the road.

Podcast Notes

On three ski areas that were once one ski area that are now two ski areas

Lift-served skiing on Mt. Rose started with a chairlift strung up from what is now Sky Tavern ski area to what is now the Slide Bowl area of Mt. Rose:

Mt. Rose broke off from the lower-mountain area by the time it opened as a separate entity in 1964. The lower-mountain became a non-profit, volunteer-run, learn-to-ski center called Sky Tavern, which continues to operate today:

The larger ski area’s modern-day footprint was, for several decades, two separate ski areas – one on the Slide Peak terrain and another in Mt. Rose proper:

They combined in the late ‘80s:

Then, in 2004, The Chutes opened, giving us the Mt. Rose we can ski today:

On Ober Mountain

Gavrilets began his career at Tennessee’s only ski area, which sits above Gatlinburg. You can access it via tram from downtown, or you can drive up. It’s a tiny place, but still has a respectable 600-foot vertical drop. It’s an Indy Pass partner. Here’s a trailmap:

On Peak Resorts and the Peak Pass

Gavrilets spent a good part of his career at Peak Resorts, which Vail purchased in whole in 2019. Here’s what their portfolio looked like at its height. The New York, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Pennsylvania ski areas were included on the Peak Pass outright. You could ski the Midwest ski areas with the pass, but it was one of those “stop by the customer service desk to get a ticket” deals.

On the Attitash Summit Triple

Gavrilets spent a good part of his tenure at Attitash making the case to Vail that the company needed to upgrade the Summit Triple. This past summer, the company finally did it, putting a high-speed quad in its place. That lift is scheduled to open soon, and I went into great detail on the project with Attitash General Manager Brandon Swartz at the 6:12 mark of our recent podcast conversation:

On the density of Lake Tahoe skiing

The Tahoe region may have the densest concentration of ski areas in America, with 16 lift-served Alpine ski areas circling the lake. Here’s a statistical breakdown of each:

On Mt. Rose’s history site

Mt. Rose recently re-vamped the resort history page of its website. Check it out.

On reconfiguring the trails around the Lakeview lift

When Mt. Rose upgraded the Lakeview chairlift from a triple to a high-speed quad last year, they also reconfigured several trails around it:

On Galena ski area

Mt. Rose’s trailmap shows a potential expansion down across the Mt. Rose highway. Gavrilets tells us that Powdr had attempted to build a standalone resort called Galena down there. I could’t find any information on this, but it would be cool if Mt. Rose could activate this terrain:

On Shane McConkey crushing The Chutes

On connecting Mt. Rose to Reno via tram

While it hovers over mild-weather Reno, which averages 22 inches of snowfall per winter, Mt. Rose sits at a monstrous 8,260 feet. Bridging that distance requires navigating one hell of a winding access road:

We discuss a potential aerial lift up from town in the podcast, but I’m not sure if it’s feasible, cost-wise, as it’s 13 air miles from the airport to the ski area. That’s about the same distance as the main strip of casinos. Like Gavrilets says in the pod, “if this was Europe, it would already be built.”

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Who

Boyne Resorts CEO Stephen Kircher, Big Sky President Taylor Middleton, Big Sky GM Troy Nedved, and Garaventa Chief Rigger Cédric Aellig

Where

Big Sky invited media to attend the opening of their new Lone Peak tram, the first all-new tram at a U.S. ski resort since Jackson Hole opened theirs in 2008.

Recorded on

December 19, 2023

About Big Sky

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: Boyne Resorts

Base elevation: 6,800 feet at Madison Base

Summit elevation: 11,166 feet

Vertical drop: 4,350 feet

Skiable Acres: 5,850

Average annual snowfall: 400-plus inches

Trail count: 300 (18% expert, 35% advanced, 25% intermediate, 22% beginner)

Terrain parks: 6

Lift count: 40 (1 75-passenger tram, 1 high-speed eight-pack, 3 high-speed six-packs, 4 high-speed quads, 3 fixed-grip quads, 9 triples, 5 doubles, 3 platters, 2 ropetows, 9 carpet lifts) – View Lift Blog’s inventory of Big Sky’s lift fleet.

About the new Lone Peak Tram

It may seem like the most U.S. American thing ever to spend tens of millions of dollars to replace a lift that was only 28 years old (remember when the Detroit Lions dropped half a billion to replace the 26-year-old Pontiac Silverdome?), but the original tram cost just $1 million to build, and it served a very different ski resort and a very different ski world. It was, besides, a bit of a proof of concept, built against the wishes of the company’s own CEO, Boyne Resorts founder Everett Kircher. If they could just string a lift to the top, it would, the younger Kirchers knew, transform Big Sky forever.

It did. Then all sorts of other things happened. The Ikon Pass. Montana’s transformation into a hipster’s Vermont West. Social media and the quest for something different. The fun slowly draining from Utah and Colorado as both suffocated under their own convenience. Big Sky needed a new tram.

The first thing to understand about the new tram is that it does not simply replace the old tram. It runs on a different line, loading between the top of Swift Current and the bottom of Powder Seeker; the old tram loaded off the top of the latter lift. Here’s the old versus the new line:

The new line boosts the vertical drop from 1,450 feet to 2,135. Larger cabins can accommodate 75 passengers, a 500 percent increase from 15 in the old tram (Big Sky officials insist that the cars will rarely, if ever, carry that many skiers, with capacity metered to conditions and seats set aside for sightseers).

One dramatic difference between the old and the new lines is a tower (the old tram had none), perched dramatically below the summit:

It’s a trip to ride through:

But the most astonishing thing about riding the new Lone Peak tram is the sheer speed. It moves at up to 10 meters per second, which, when I first heard that, meant about as much to me as when my high school chemistry teacher tried to explain the concept of moles with a cigar-box analogy. But then I was riding up and the down-bound cabin passed me like someone just tossed a piano off the roof of a skyscraper:

Here’s the down-bound view:

The top sits at 11,166 feet, which is by no means the highest lift in America, but it is the most prominent point for an amazing distance around, granting you stunning views of three states and two national parks, plus the Yellowstone Club ski area and Big Sky itself:

The peak is fickle as hell though – an hour after I took those photos, I walked into a cloud bank on a second trip to the summit.

Right now, the only way to access the tram is by riding the Swift Current 6 (itself an extraordinary lift, like borrowing someone’s Porsche for a ride around the block), and skiing or walking a few hundred vertical feet down. But a two-stage, 10-passenger gondola is already under construction. This will load where the Explorer double currently does, and will terminate adjacent to the tram, creating an easy pedestrian journey from base to summit. That lift is scheduled to open for the 2025-26 ski season, and will, along with the Ramcharger 8 and Swifty, create an amazing 24 high-speed seats out of the main Big Sky base.

The Lone Peak tram is, in my opinion, the most spectacular new ski lift coming online in America this winter. In a year of big lift projects, with Steamboat’s 3.1-mile-long gondola and 14 new six-packs coming online, that’s saying a lot.

Right now, everyone has to download - it’s been a low-snow year, and there’s no skiing yet off the summit. Big Sky will, however, stay open until late April this season, so we have plenty of tram-ski days ahead.

What we talked about

With Troy and Taylor

Ski town culture; the evolution of Big Sky from Montana backwater to leading North American ski area; why the new tram won’t overload Lone Peak even though its capacity is five times that of the old tram; how much – and how fast – Big Sky changed after the 1995 installation of Tram 1; why Big Sky evolved in a way that other small Montana ski areas never did; wind mitigation for a lift going somewhere as insane as Lone Peak; the new tram’s incredible speed; plans for the old tram’s top and bottom stations; and the switch from pay-per-day to pay-per-ride for the tram.  

With Stephen Kircher

The significance of this lift when Boyne is putting in so many lifts; what the tram means for the future of Big Sky; the Kircher family legacy, past and future, at Big Sky; the near-death of Tram 1 before it was even built; who we can thank for Big Sky’s insane lift fleet; what justifies the huge expense of D-Line technology; why Boyne only builds Doppelmayr lifts; European influence; and how America fell behind Europe in lift technology.

What I got wrong

I said that, when Middleton arrived in 1980, Big Sky had just a “handful of lifts off Andesite, nothing on Lone Peak.” While there wasn’t a lift to the top of Lone Peak, Lone Mountain itself had several lifts by 1980:

When I said that “Vail tends to split its lift fleet 50/50,” I meant between Doppelmayr and Leitner-Poma, the two major North American lift manufacturers.

Podcast Notes

On the shift to pay-per-tram ride

This year, Big Sky switched from charging per day for tram access to charging per ride. The price ranges from $20 to $40 for skiers. That seems hefty, but frankly the place is so huge that you can have a great ski week with just a handful of tram laps. Here’s a primer on how to set up your tram access:

On cannister film rolls

Before we lived in the future, photos were scarce and expensive. A two-week family trip may involve two to five rolls of film, with 24 or 36 photos per roll, which you could not see until you deposited the spent cannisters at a photo development emporium and returned, some hours or days later, to retrieve them. Each roll cost between $5 and $7 to purchase, and an equal price to develop. Reprints were expensive and complicated. The rolls themselves were impossibly easy to destroy, and could, like vampires, disintegrate with direct exposure to sunlight. Witnessing the destruction of this system and its displacement by digital photos as limitless as videogame ammunition has been one of the great joys of my life.

Anyway, that’s what Middleton was referring to when he tells the story about the lost film cannister that almost ruined his day.

On D-Line lifts

Kircher talks extensively about “D-Line lifts.” I constantly reference these as well, as though I have the faintest idea what I’m talking about, but all I know is that these are really kick-ass chairlifts, and are better than other sorts of chairlift. While several non-Boyne ski areas (Camelback, Sun Valley, Mammoth), have installed this most advanced lift class, Boyne owns perhaps as many as the rest of North American resorts combined, with two each at Big Sky (Ramcharger 8 and Swift Current 6) and Sunday River (Jordan 8 and Barker 6), and one each at Brighton (Crest 6), Loon (Kanc 8), Boyne Mountain (Disciples 8), and The Highlands (Camelot 6).

On Everett Kircher the elder

Everett Kircher, Stephen Kircher’s father, was a bit of a cowboy entrepreneur, the swaggering sort from America’s black-and-white past. He purchased the land for Boyne Mountain for $1, built an audacious contraption called the Gatlinburg Sky Park that ended up fueling the growth of the whole ski empire, and flew himself between Michigan and Montana after buying the resort in the mid-70s. He built the world’s first triple, quad, and detachable six-person chairlifts and invented all sorts of snowmaking equipment. Boyne has more on their history page.

On John Kircher

Stephen’s brother, John Kircher, was an important figure in the U.S. ski industry in general, and at Big Sky in particular. He passed away on Jan. 28 of this year. From Explore Big Sky:

The oldest son of late Boyne Resorts co-founder Everett Kircher, John will be remembered for his impact in the modern ski industry. After stepping into Big Sky Resort’s GM role in 1980, he became widely known for spearheading the Lone Peak Tram project in the early 1990s. He then spent roughly two decades of his career as president, CEO and, briefly, owner of Crystal Mountain Resort in Washington.

Read the rest of the obit here.

On Kircher Concepts

Stephen Kircher’s son is also named Everett. We discuss his contributions to the tram project, and also allude to a digital design agency he founded, Kircher Concepts. This work, which I find incredibly valuable, essentially visualizes lift projects at their announcement. The gondola rendering above comes from Kircher Concepts, but the agency does not work exclusively with Boyne – Telluride, Sun Valley, and Mount St. Louis Moonstone are also clients. Check out the full portfolio here.

On Big Sky 2025

Kircher refers to Big Sky 2025, which is essentially a masterplan outlining the resort’s rapid evolution since 2015. While the plan has changed quite a bit since its announcement, it has completely transformed the resort with all sorts of lift, employee housing, parking, snowmaking, and other infrastructure upgrades. You can read the latest iteration here.

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Who

Jon Schaefer, Owner and General Manager of Berkshire East, Massachusetts and Catamount, straddling the border of Massachusetts and New York

Recorded on

December 6, 2023

About the mountains

Berkshire East

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: The Schaefer family

Located in: Charlemont, Massachusetts

Year founded: 1960

Pass affiliations:

* Berkshire Summit Pass: Unlimited Access

* Indy Base Pass: 2 days with blackouts (reservations required)

* Indy+ Pass: 2 days, no blackouts (reservations required)

Closest neighboring ski areas: Eaglebrook School (:36), Brattleboro (:48), Hermitage Club (:48), Mt. Greylock Ski Club (:52), Mount Snow (:55), Jiminy Peak (:56), Bousquet (:56); Catamount is approximately 90 minutes south of Berkshire East

Base elevation: 660 feet

Summit elevation: 1,840 feet

Vertical drop: 1,180 feet

Skiable Acres: 180

Average annual snowfall: 110 inches

Trail count: 45

Lift count: 7 (1 high-speed quad, 2 fixed-grip quads, 1 triple, 1 double, 2 carpets – view Lift Blog’s inventory of Berkshire East’s lift fleet)

View historic Berkshire East trailmaps on skimap.org.

Catamount

Click here for a mountain stats overview

Owned by: The Schaefer family

Located in: Hillsdale, New York and South Egremont, Massachusetts (the resort straddles the state line, and generally seems to use the New York address as its location of record)

Year founded: 1939

Pass affiliations:

* Berkshire Summit Pass: Unlimited Access

* Indy Base Pass and Indy+ Pass: 2 days, no blackouts (reservations required)

Closest neighboring ski areas: Butternut (:19), Otis Ridge (:35), Bousquet (:40), Mohawk Mountain (:46), Jiminy Peak (:50), Mount Lakeridge (:55), Mt. Greylock Ski Club (1:02); Berkshire East sits approximately 90 minutes north of Catamount

Base elevation: 1,000 feet

Summit elevation: 2,000 feet

Vertical drop: 1,000 feet

Skiable Acres: 133 acres

Average annual snowfall: 108 inches

Trail count: 44 (35% green, 42% blue, 23% black/double-black)

Lift count: 8 (2 fixed-grip quads, 3 triples, 3 carpets – view Lift Blog’s inventory of Catamount’s lift fleet)

View historic Catamount trailmaps on skimap.org.

Why I interviewed him

Might I nominate Massachusetts as America’s most underappreciated ski state? It’s easy to understand the oversight. Bordered by three major ski states that are home to a combined 107 ski areas (50 in New York, 27 in Vermont, and 30 in New Hampshire), Massachusetts contains just 13 active lift-served mountains. Two (Easton School and Mount Greylock Ski Club) are private. Five of the remainder deliver vertical drops of 400 feet or fewer. The state’s entire lift-served skiable area clocks in at around 1,300 acres, which is smaller than Killington and just a touch larger than Solitude.

But the code and character of those 11 public ski areas is what I’m interested in here. Winnowed from some 200 bumps that once ran ropetows up the incline, these survivors are super-adapters, the Darwinian capstones to a century-long puzzle: how to consistently offer skiing in a hostile world that hates you.

New England is a rumbler, and always has been. Outside of northern Vermont’s Green Mountain Spine (Sugarbush, MRG, Bolton, Stowe, Smuggs, Jay), which snags 200-plus inches of almost automatic annual snowfall, the region’s six states can, on any given day from November to April, stage double as Santa’s Village or serve as props for sad brown Christmas pining. Immersive reading of the New England Ski History website suggests this contemporary reality reflects historical norms: prior to the widespread introduction of snowmaking, ski areas could sometimes offer just a single-digit number of ski days in particularly difficult winters. Even now, even in good winters, the freeze-thaw cycle is relentless. The rain-snow line is a thing during big storms. Several times in recent years, including this one, furious December rainstorms have washed out weeks of early-season snow and snowmaking.

And yet, like sharks, hanging on for hundreds of millions of years as mass extinctions rolled most of the rest of life into the fossil record, the surviving Massachusetts ski area operators found a way to keep moving forward. But these are not sharks – the Colorado- and Utah-based operators haven’t plundered the hills rolling west of Boston just yet. Every one of these ski areas (with the exception of investment fund-owned Bousquet), is still family-owned and operated. And these families are among the smartest ski area operators in America.

In October, tiny Ski Ward, owned for decades by the LaCroix family, was the first North American ski area to spin lifts for the 2023-24 ski season. Wachusett, a thousand-footer run by the Crowley family since 1968, is a model home for volume urban skiing efficiency. The Fairbank family transformed Jiminy Peak from tadpole (in the 1960s) to alligator before expanding their small empire into New England (the family now runs Bromley, Vermont and owns Cranmore, New Hampshire). The Murdock family has run Butternut since its 1963 founding, and likely saved nearby Otis Ridge from extinction by purchasing the ski area in 2016 (the Murdocks also purchased, but later closed, another nearby ski area, Ski Blandford).

The Schaefers, of Charlemont by way of Michigan, are as wiley and wired as any of them. Patriarch Roy Schaefer drove in from the Midwest with a station wagon full of kids in 1978. He stapled then-bankrupt Berkshire East together with the refuse of dead and dying ski areas from all over America. Some time in the mid- to late-aughts, Roy’s son Jon took over daily operations and rapidly modernized the lifts, snowmaking, and trail network. Roy’s other son Jim, a Wall-Streeter, helped the family take full ownership of the ski area. In 2018, they bought Catamount, a left-behind bump with fantastic fall lines but dated lifts and snowmaking.

None of this is new or news to anyone who pays attention to Massachusetts skiing. In fact, Jon Schaefer has appeared on my podcasts twice before (and I’ve been on his). But in the four years since he joined me for episode nine, a lot has changed at Berkshire, at Catamount, in New England, and across skiing. Daily, the narrative grows that consolidation and megapasses are squeezing family operators out of skiing. My daily work suggests that the opposite may be happening, that independent operators, who have outlasted skiing’s extinction event of the low-snow decades and perfected their mad alchemy through decades of swinging the pickaxe into the same mountain, have never had a better story to tell. And Jon Schaefer has one of the better ways of telling it.

What we talked about

Early openings for both ski areas; what it means that Catamount opened before Berkshire East this season; snowmaking metaphors that I can guarantee you haven’t heard before; letting go of things you love as you take on more responsibility; the power of ropetows; Berkshire East’s new T-Bar Express, the ski area’s first high-speed quad; why Schaefer finally came around on detachable lift technology; the unique dynamics of a multi-generational, family-owned mountain; the long-term plan for the three current top-to-bottom chairlifts; the potential Berkshire East expansion; yes Berkshire is getting busier; the strange math of high-speed versus fixed-grip quads; that balance between modernizing and retaining atmosphere; the Indy Pass’ impact on Berkshire and the industry as a whole; whether more mountains could join the Berkshire Summit Pass; whether the Schaefers could buy another ski area; whether they considered buying Jay Peak or are considering buying Burke; assessing the overhaul of Catamount’s lift fleet; talking through the clear-cutting of Catamount’s frontside trails; parking at Catamount; expansion potential for Catamount; and Catamount being “one of the best small ski areas in the country.”

Below: first chair on the new T-Bar Express at Berkshire East:

Why I thought that now was a good time for this interview

If I could somehow itemize and sort the thousands of Storm-related emails and Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook messages that I’ve read over the past four years, a top-10 request would be some form of this: get Schaefer back on the podcast.

There are a couple of reasons for this. One is that Jon is, in my opinion, one of the more unfiltered and original thinkers in skiing. His dad moved the family to Berkshire in 1978. Jon was born in 1980. That means he grew up on the mountain and he lives at the mountain and he holds its past, present, and future in his vision like some shaman of the Berkshires, orchestrating its machinations in a hallucinogenic flow state, crafting, from the ether, a ski area like no other in America.

Which leads to the second reason. Because Schaefer is so willful and effective, it can often be difficult for outsiders to see into the eye of the hurricane. You kind of have to let the storm pass. And the past four years have been a bit of a storm, particularly at Catamount, where Covid and supply-chain issues collided with an ambitious but protracted lift-fleet upgrade.

But that’s all done. Catamount has five functioning chairlifts (all of which, remarkably, were relocated from somewhere else). Berkshire just opened its first high-speed quad, the T-Bar Express. Both mountains are busier than ever, and Berkshire is a perennial Indy Pass top 10 by number of redemptions. And while expansion and a lift shuffle likely loom at Berkshire, both ski areas are, essentially, what the Schaefers want them to be.

Which doesn’t mean they are ever finished. Schaefer and I touch on this existential reality in the podcast, but we also discuss the other obvious question: now that Catamount’s gut-renovation is wrapping up, what’s next? Could this ski family, with their popular Berkshire Summit Pass (which is also good at Bousquet), expand with more owned or partner mountains? There are, after all, only so many people in America who know how to capably operate a ski area. You can learn, sure, but most people suck at it, which is (one reason) why there are more lost ski areas than active ones. While I don’t root for consolidation necessarily, if ski areas are going to transfer ownership, I’d rather someone proven sign the deed than an unknown. And when it comes to proven, the Schaefers have proven as much as anyone in the country.

Questions I wish I’d asked

At some point over the past few years, the Schaefers purchased a Rossland, B.C.-based Cat skiing operation called Big Red Cats. Their terrain covers 20,000 acres on eight peaks. I’m not sure why we didn’t get into it.

What I got wrong

I said that Indy Pass had 130 alpine partners. That was correct on Dec. 6, when we conducted the interview, but the pass has since added Moose Mountain, Alaska and Hudson Bay Mountain, B.C., bringing the total up to 132.

Why you should ski Berkshire East and Catamount

While age, injuries, perspective, volume, skiing with children, and this newsletter have all changed my approach to where and what I ski on any given day, the thing I still love most is the fight. Riding the snowy mountain, in its bruising earthly form, through its trees and drops and undulations, feeling part of something raw and wild. I don’t like speed. I like technical and varied terrain that requires deliberate, thoughtful turns. This I find profoundly interesting, like a book that offers, with each page, a captivating new thing.

Massachusetts is a great ski state, but it doesn’t have a lot of what I just described, that sort of ever-rolling wickedness you’ll find clinging to certain mountains in Vermont and New Hampshire. But the state does have one such ski area: Berkshire East. She’s ready to fight. Glades and bumps and little cliffs in the woods. Jiminy and Wachusett give you high-speed lifts and operational excellence, but they don’t give you (more than nominal) trees. For a skier looking to summon a little Mad River Glen but save themselves a three-hour drive, Berkshire East goes on the storm-chase list.

But unlike MRG, Berkshire is a top-to-bottom snowmaking house, and it has to be. While the glades are amazing when you can get them, the operating assumption here is that, more often than not, you can’t. And that means the vast majority of skiers – those who prefer groomers to whatever frolics you find in the trees – can head to Berkshire knowing a good day awaits.

Catamount, less-snowy and closer to New York City, gives you a more traditional Massachusetts ski experience. More people (it seems), less exploring in the trees (though you can do this a bit). What it has in common with Berkshire is that Catamount is an excellent natural ski mountain. Fall lines, headwalls, winders through the trees. A thousand vert gives you a good run. Head there on a weekday in March, when the whole joint is open, and let them run.

Podcast Notes

On Schaefer’s previous podcast appearances

Schaefer was the first person to ever agree to join me on The Storm Skiing Podcast, answering my cold email in about four seconds. “Let’s do it,” he wrote. It took us a few months to make it happen, but he joined me for episode nine. While he showed up huge, the episode also doubles as a showcase for how much better my own production quality has gotten over the past four years. The intro is sorta… flat:

A few months later, Schaefer became the first operator in America to shutter his mountains to help stop the spread of Covid-19. He almost immediately launched an organization called Goggles for Docs, and he joined me on my “Covid-19 & Skiing” miniseries to discuss the initiative:

The next year, I joined Jon on his Berkshire Sessions podcast, where we discussed his mountains and Northeast skiing in general:

On historic opening and closing dates at Berkshire East and Catamount

We discussed Berkshire and Catamount’s historical opening and closing dates. Here’s what the past 10 years looked like (the Schaefers took over Catamount starting with the 2018-19 ski season):

On Berkshire Snowbasin

Schaefer discussed the now-defunct Berkshire Basin ski area in nearby Cummington. The ski area operated from 1949 to 1989, according to New England Ski History, and counted a 550-foot vertical drop (though the map below says 500). Here’s a circa 1984 trailmap:

Schaefer references efforts to re-open this ski area as a backcountry center, though I couldn’t find any reporting on the topic.

Stan Brown, whom Schaefer cites for his insight that skiers “are more interested in how they get up the mountain than how they get down” founded Berkshire Snow Basin with his wife, Ruth.

On high-speed ropetows

I’ll never stop yelling about these things until everyone installs one – these high-speed ropetows can move 4,000 skiers per hour and cost all of $50,000. A more perfect terrain park lift does not exist. This one is at Spirit Mountain, Minnesota (video by me):

On when the T-bar came out of Berkshire East

Schaefer refers to the old T-bar that occupied the line where the new high-speed quad now sits. The lift did not extend to the summit, but ran 1,800 feet up from the base, along the run that is still known as Competition (lift F below):

On Schaefer’s past resistance to high-speed lifts

Shaun Sutner, a longtime snowsports reporter who has appeared on this podcast three times – most recently in November – summarized Schaefer’s onetime resistance to detachable lifts in a 2015 Worcester Telegram & Gazette article:

The start of the 2014-15 ski season came with the B-East's first-ever summit quad, a $2 million fixed-grip "medium-speed" lift from Skytrac, a new U.S.-owned lift company. The low-maintenance, elegantly simple conveyance will save millions of dollars over the years. Not only was it less than half the cost of a high-speed detachable quad, but it also eliminates the need for $300,000-$500,000 grip replacements that high-speed lifts need every three or four years.

So what changed Schaefer’s mind? We discussed in the podcast.

On the potential Berkshire East expansion

While Berkshire East has teased an expansion for several years, details remain scarce (rumors, unfortunately, do not). Schaefer tells us what he’s willing to on the podcast, and this image, which the resort presented to a local planning board last year, shows the approximate location of the new terrain pod (around the red dotted line labeled “4”):

While this plan suggests the Mountain Top Triple would move to serve the expansion, that may not necessarily be the final plan, Schaefer confirms.

On “the gondola side of Stowe”

When Schaefer says that the Berkshire expansion will ski like “the gondola side of Stowe,” he’s referring to the terrain pod indicated below:

Stowe has two gondolas, one of which connects Stowe proper to Spruce Peak, but that’s not the terrain he’s referring to. The double chair side of Plattekill also skis in the way Schaefer describes, as a series of figure-eights that delightfully frazzles the senses, making the ski area feel far larger than it actually is:

On Indy Pass rankings

Berkshire East has finished as a top-10 mountain in number of Indy Pass redemptions every season:

On Liftopia

Schaefer references Liftopia, a former online lift ticket broker whose legacy is fading. At one time, I was a huge fan of this Expedia-of-skiing site, where you could score substantial discounts to most major non-Vail ski areas. I hosted founder and CEO Evan Reece way back on podcast number 8:

Sadly, the company collapsed with the onset of Covid, as I documented back in 2020:

…the industry’s most-prominent pure tech entity – Liftopia – has been teetering on existential collapse since failing to pay significant numbers of its partners following the March shutdown. A group of ski area operators tried forcing Liftopia into bankruptcy to recoup their funds. They failed, then appealed, then withdrew that appeal. Outside of the public record, bitter and betrayed ski area operators fumed about the loss of revenues that, as Aspen Snowmass CFO Matt Jones wrote in emails filed in federal court, “were never yours to begin with.” In August, Liftopia CEO Evan Reece announced that he had signed a letter of intent to sell the company.

That new owner, Liftopia announced Friday, would be Skitude, a European tech outfit specializing in mobile apps. “The proceeds from the sale will be used to pay creditors,” SAM reported. In an email to an independent ski area operator that was shared with The Storm Skiing Journal Reece wrote that “…all claims will be treated equally,” without specifying whether partners could expect a full or partial repayment. The message also indicated that the new owner may “prioritize ongoing partners,” though it was unclear whether that indicated preference in future business terms or payback of owed funds, or something else altogether.

Whatever the outcome, this unsatisfying story is a tale of enormous missed opportunity. No company was better positioned to help lift-served skiing adapt to the social-distancing age than Liftopia. It could have easily expanded and adapted its highly regarded technology to accommodate the almost universal shift to online-only sales for lift tickets, rental reservations, ski lessons, and even appointment times in the lodge. It had 15 years of brand recognition with customers and deep relationships within the ski industry.

But ski areas, uncertain about Liftopia’s future, have spent an offseason when they could have been building out their presence on a familiar platform scrambling for replacement tech solutions. In addition to the Liftopia-branded site, many ski areas used Liftopia’s Cloud Store platform to sell day tickets, season passes, rentals, and more. While it is unclear how many former partners shifted to another point-of-sale system this offseason, several have confirmed to The Storm Skiing Journal that they have done so.

I’m not sure how Liftopia would have faired against the modern version of the Indy Pass, but more choice is almost always better for consumers, and I’m still bitter about how this one collapsed.

On Caddyshack

Movie quotes are generally lost on me, but Schaefer references this one from Caddyshack, so I looked it up and this is what the robots fed me:

On the majority of skier visits now being on a season pass

According to the National Ski Areas Association, season pass holders have surpassed day-ticket buyers for total number of skier visits for four consecutive seasons. Without question, this is simply because the industry has gotten very good at incentivizing season pass sales by rolling the most well-known ski areas onto the Epic and Ikon passes. It is unclear whether the NSAA counts the Indy or Mountain Collective passes as season passes, but the number of each of those sold is small in comparison to Epic and Ikon.

On the Berkshire Summit Pass

The Schaefers have been leaders in establishing compelling regional multimountain ski passes. The Berkshire Summit Pass has, since 2020, delivered access to three solid western Massachusetts ski areas: Berkshire East, Catamount, and partner mountain Bousquet (on the unlimited version only). It is available in unlimited, Sunday through Friday, midweek, and nights-only versions. An Indy Pass add-on makes this a badass cross-New England ski product.

On Burke being great and accessible even though it looks as though it’s parked at the ass-end of nowhere

The first piece of ski writing I ever published was a New York Ski Blog recap of a Burke ski day in 2019:

Last week, winter seemed to be winding down, with above-freezing temps forecast clear up to Canada before St. Patrick’s Day. Desperate to extend winter, I had my sights on a storm forecast to dump nearly a foot of new snow across northern Vermont. After considering my options, I locked onto a hill I’d overlooked in 20 years of skiing Vermont: Burke.

I’d read the online commentary: steep, funky, heavily gladed, classic New England twisty with high-quality snow well-preserved by cold temps and a lack of crowds. But to get there you have to drive past some big-name ski areas, most with equal or greater vertical drop, skiable acreage and average annual snowfall.

Further research uncovered a secret Burke advantage over its better-known neighbors: unlike other mountains that require a post-expressway slog of 30-plus miles on local roads, Burke sits just seven miles off Interstate 91, meaning it was actually the closest northern Vermont option by drive time.

As 10 inches of snow piled up Sunday and Monday and areas to the south teeter-tottered along a freeze-thaw cycle that would turn ungroomed trails to granite, Burke looked like my last best shot at mid-winter conditions.

Two days after the storm, on the last day of below-freezing temps, I left Brooklyn at 4 am and arrived at 9:15. Read the rest…

On Burke’s (mostly) hapless ownership history

We talk quite a bit about Burke Mountain, one of those good New England ski areas with a really terrible business record. Schaefer refers to the unusually huge number of former owners, which, according to New England Ski History, include:

* 1964: Burke Mountain Recreation (Doug Kitchel) buys area; eventually went bankrupt

* 1987: Paul D. Quinn buys, eventually sells to bank after his bank goes bankrupt

* 1990: Hilco, Inc., a bank, takes ownership, then sells to…

* 1991: Bernd Schaefers (no relation to Jon), under whom the ski area eventually went bankrupt (for the second time)

* 1995: Northern Star Ski Corporation (five owners) buys the ski area, but it eventually goes bankrupt for a third time

* 2000: Unidentified auction winner buys Burke and sells it to…

* 2000: Burke Mountain Academy, who never wanted to be long-term owner, and sold to…

* 2005: Laubert-Adler and the Ginn Corporation, who sold to…

* 2012: Aerial Quiros, who engaged in all kinds of shadiness

* 2016: Burke becomes the property of U.S. America, as court-appointed receiver takes control of this and Jay Peak. While Jay sold last year, Burke remains for sale

On media reports indicating that there is a bid on Burke

I got excited earlier this year, when the excellent Vermont Digger reported that the sales process for Burke appeared to be underway:

Michael Goldberg, the court-appointed receiver in charge of overseeing Burke Mountain ski resort for more than seven years, has an offer to buy the scandal-plagued ski resort in Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom.

News of the bid came from a recent court filing submitted by Goldberg, predicting that a sale of the property would take place “later this year.”

The filing does not name the bidder or the amount of the bid, but the document stated that Goldberg wants to continue to seek qualified buyers, and if a matching or higher price is offered, an auction would be held to sell the resort. …

“The Receiver has received an initial offer, and expects to file a motion with the Court in the next month recommending an identical sales process to the Jay Peak sale – a ‘stalking horse’ bid, followed by an auction and a subsequent motion asking the Court to approve a final sale,” Goldberg stated in his recent court filing regarding Burke.

Well, nothing happened, though the bid remains active, as far as I know. So who knows. I hope whoever buys Burke next, this place can finally stabilize and build.

On the West Mountain expansion at Catamount

Schaefer discusses a potential expansion at Catamount. New England Ski History hosts a summary page for this one as well:

A lift and a variety of trails are proposed for the west side of the ski area, crossing over the Lower Sidewinder trail. The lift would climb 650 vertical feet from a new parking lot to the junction of Upper and Lower Sidewinder. 6 trail segments would be cut above and below the lower switchback of the Lower Sidewinder Trail. All of the terrain would be located in New York state.

Here's a circa 2014 map, showing the proposed expansion looker’s right:

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