MAX Pass Adventures: Stratton

When we decided to spring for the M.A.X. Pass this year, I was confident we would get our money’s worth. Killington, Pico, Gore and Whiteface are all favorites. Belleayre and Windham are close to home, family-friendly mountains that I knew I could bring my kids and have a good time. But Stratton and Okemo were unknown to me.

stratton square

I’d heard that both hills were a bit bland, serving as playgrounds for wealthy city people, but it was my goal to use our MAX Passes to spread our wings. We’d already skied the Catskills a few times this season and this past Saturday was our first chance to venture farther: a day-trip to Stratton with Junior, my oldest son.

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Deep into a Steep Vermont December

In December 2016, on an early-season trip to Killington, our group planned to visit Okemo on the second day. Conditions in the region were typical for December—the snow was hard, crusty, and mostly manmade with a slick layer of ice hiding underneath. When I saw the next morning that Jay Peak had landed nearly two feet of surprise snowfall, I headed north in search of powder, with or without my friends.

I arrived to waist-deep powder runs on some of the steepest trails and glades in the northeast, making the day trip well worth the five hours of extra driving. That was my first day as a “powderhound,” obsessively checking the weather and allowing Mother Nature to steer my Subaru to the mountains I would visit.

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Tales from a NYC Ski Bum: Back to Vermont

New York City ski bums are something of a rare breed. There’s a special kind of stubborn resolve required to juggle a love for this town and a love for sliding down frozen mountains. No matter where we are, we’re always a bit torn, a bit displaced.

killington alpenglow

I’m a city kid born and raised, and unlike many of those I grew up with and around, I’ve somehow held on in this unforgiving town while friends and family have been scattered either to the suburbs or to more laid back cities in other states. Despite skyrocketing rents and the promise of better jobs elsewhere, I’ve clung desperately to my hometown. I’d never once considered leaving – until I went skiing for the first time three years ago at the age of 42.

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