Season Pass Math Fail

Maple Ski Ridge

I started cross country skiing at age 30. By the time I was 40, I was fully hooked on snow sliding. I was jonesin’ to ski by Thanksgiving, and often there was no snow in the woods.  I started to ski at Gore.

I didn’t have fixed-heeled gear. I took my 210s and leather boots over to the mountain, bought a ticket at the window, and skied.  For several years, Sunway, Gore’s classic green trail, was all I could handle.

I’d do twenty laps, which was a lot of turns, for an advanced beginner on skinny skis.   I was having a blast and never really thought too much about the price of the ticket.

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Covid: Return from the Edge

Yesterday, I finally got out of covid quarantine, and I went for a ride on my mountain bike. I did my longer loop that includes a swing though the old AT&T Pole Farm, an historical international communications hub that was active from 1927 until 1975.

On my ride, I decided that I’d have to write my story down. It’s clearly off topic, and while I am the home page police, I’m also the biggest offender of my own home page rules. My sister’s passing comes to mind. It was only peripherally related to skiing, but it was huge in my life.


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Man, I Wanna Be a Local

Man, I want to be a local. And this year, I’m not alone. Second homes in the mountains have been occupied full time since the spring, and the real estate market in the Adirondacks and Catskills has been off the hook.

But for me, this isn’t a new thing. I’ve been dreaming of living in the mountains of New York since I found them for the first time back in 1988. I discovered my love for cold and snow and remote locales, freeheeling in leather boots in the Siamese Pond Wilderness.

While we have a plan to make it happen, it’s a few years off, in 2024, so it’s not going to help me this season.

In pursuit

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