I Never Made It To The Top

In New York this season, the snow has been piling up. Still, many of our weather events have been close calls. Last Wednesday a storm brought snow and sleet to much of the east, but this time it was all snow at Gore. My first shot at it was Friday, with a forecast of mountain snow and valley rain.

The North Creek Ski Bowl

On the road from the flatlands before 3am, I arrived the cabin at 7am, unloaded the car and turned on the heat. Back down into town, I had breakfast at Sarah’s and then headed over to the Ski Bowl Yurt to boot up for first chair.

I’ve been busy at work, and I neglected to find a ski partner in advance.  Still the ski gods smiled down and sent master trailbuilder Steve Ovitt and his friend Rick to meet me, as I waited for the Hudson Chair to spin. A stroke of great luck.

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Mount Peter: Home Again

A home mountain is more then just the place where you have a pass or where you ski the most. It’s about where your skiing story began, where your roots are. Your home mountain is your origin story, like the planet Krypton in Superman.

Mount Peter new quad

My ski story began at Jiminy Peak on a Sunday in 1989 that ended in a trip to the emergency room. Because of that, and all the time I spent there in the following years, I’ll always think of Jiminy as my home mountain. For my kids, and many New Yorkers, Mount Peter in Warwick New York is home.

Mount Peter has a decent amount of terrain variety for a 450-foot, 60-acre feeder hill, with some pitch over on skiers’ left where the racing kids practice. When my first son was born, I chose Mount Peter as the spot to teach them to ski.

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Snow Ridge: No Bad Days

Last week seems so long ago. It was -10 degrees and across the Northeast snow was falling. In the Tug Hill region of New York, some places got more than 3 feet of lake effect.

I’ve had more powder days at Snow Ridge than any other mountain. When I saw they were running the Snow Pocket lift for the first time this year, I knew we were in for a good time. For his birthday, I bought my friend Alex a lift ticket, and a little bit of Snow Ridge magic.

Much of the drive from Utica to Turin is through the farmland and forest. It’s a sure sign you are getting close when the walls of snow along the road grows taller than your vehicle. The sun was peeking through the clouds as we parked.

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