jamesdeluxe
Well-known member
- Joined
- Jul 17, 2020
It’s the end of the calendar year and by now you’ve read a few “best of” lists. Always a fun way to pass time while waiting at the airport or the doctor’s office, amazingly effective in igniting free-for-alls on internet forums, but generally, a big time-waster. Maybe you’ve sworn never to read another one, but your curiosity always wins out. And then you’ve gone and done it – lost another three minutes of your life that you’ll never get back.
My personal favorite instrument of torture is SKI Magazine’s annual Top Resort list. When I see the issue at a local ski shop in early autumn, laying there like a big powdered doughnut, I know beforehand that I’ll be reading about the same “winners” as last year and the year before that. Moreover, they’re exactly the kind of places that I’ve historically tried to avoid – the ones that claim to “have it all”: hotels, shopping, restaurants, off-mountain attractions, nightlife to go along with the skiing.
And you know how it goes from there; the resorts that win these awards proudly trumpet the fact that they’ve been recognized as a top destination by their target audience. Meanwhile, the ones left off the list use their snubbing as a badge of honor to prove that they’re too hardcore or off the beaten path to appeal to the publication’s pampered readers.
Lake Placid
With 70 million people living within a day’s drive, Lake Placid is no stranger to best-of lists. Recent accolades include Forbes Traveler website, which named it one of America’s prettiest towns thanks to its “classic Main Street, pine-speckled hills, and pristine small lakes.” MSN City Guide rated it as one of “America’s Top 10 Best Outdoor Towns.” Travel and Leisure praised it as “the kind of place that makes you angry other people get to live there year-round.” And while, as a general rule, the Northeast never takes nationwide honors in anything ski-related, Lake Placid has, for the past 16 years, been voted #1 in the nation for SKI Magazine’s “Off-Hill Activities” award.
So when I decided to spend a family weekend in Lake Placid, I did it while breaking the two cardinal rules of East Coast skiing: a) planning a destination trip more than a week in advance, and b) scheduling it for the second half of December, a classic Bermuda Triangle of Northeastern ski weather. Ignoring those two bits of conventional wisdom is traditionally a sure-fire recipe for disaster, but go figure, my gamble paid off when a storm dropped 20 inches of dry powder on Whiteface the night of our arrival.
Lots of people were mulling about Lake Placid, which gets lots of mileage out of the ’32 and ’80 Olympics. The ice rink in particular has become a pilgrimage site for hockey players, and there are tons of them here, all dressed identically in their team colors for a tournament. I was at the big 1980 game against the Russians and still remember the patriotic fury when the clock ran out.
Hockey Buds
Saranac Avenue
Rosebud Sled
Vintage Posters
Hockey Arena
Last night, we headed out in a pretty fierce snowstorm to the Van Hoevenburg Olympic Center, where ORDA has the bobsled and luge facilities — the only place in North America, I was told, where the public can take a ride for $75. I’m a real pansy when it comes to roller coasters (equilibrium issues), but I felt I had to do this, since so few people can claim to have been in a bobsled.
Claude in Training
Starting Gate
Commandeered by a professional driver and brakeman, the first few seconds went by painlessly, but when we hit a series of 3-G turns, with the ice flying by literally inches from my helmet, the possibility of immediate decapitation made me keep a death grip on the inside of the sled. I was seated directly behind the driver and had absolutely no clue how he was able to make turns going at that speed. Afterward, he saw my ashen face and mentioned that we “only” hit a top speed of 55 mph, instead of the 80 mph they can reach in real competitions.
Finish Line
Whiteface
Tall and narrow, Whiteface Mountain not only offers the biggest lift-served vertical drop east of the Rockies, it’s more than many ski areas out west. Those accustomed to smaller hills where they can zip from summit to base in a couple minutes will be impressed by Whiteface’s thigh-burning, top-to-bottom runs. And with both the high-speed Cloudsplitter Gondola and Facelift Quad leaving from the base, you can quickly rack up big vertical. Of course, whenever a ski area claims any kind of “best, longest, highest, toughest” descriptors in its advertising these days, crossing your T’s and dotting your I’s is absolutely mandatory, because the online ski community will quickly call you on any inaccuracy.
One of Whiteface’s ad campaigns last year featured a beautiful helicopter shot of the ski area with signposts indicating how other high-profile mountains compare to Whiteface in the vertical department. It’s an effective visual aimed at people who value superlatives. But when the graphic first went live in early autumn, a “3,430 feet” marker was placed at the top of the Summit lift (it’s actually a still noteworthy 3,116 feet), which quickly led to a fair number of internet posts calling foul on the claim. You’ll now see an asterisked disclaimer explaining that the larger number was measured higher up on the mountain, from The Slides.
Despite recording 225, 263, and 202 inches of snow in three consecutive seasons, very respectable by eastern standards, Whiteface is best known for its hard and fast conditions, or what some would call “a racer’s mountain.” Often out of reach of powerful lake-effect storms that, sadly, dump most of their load on the Tug Hill Plateau to the southwest, the mountain also gets hit with scouring winds that blast a good portion of its cover into the next county. So like many eastern ski areas, you have to get it while the getting’s good, because conditions can quickly change from memorable to “let’s go get a beer.” I’ve skied there in every possible condition – from deep powder to perfectly groomed corduroy to luscious spring corn to brutal sheets of ice – and by the end of almost every season, Whiteface’s clientele will have experienced all of them.
While much has been done to soften the obvious rough edges (the aforementioned high-speed lifts, along with improved grooming and expanded snowmaking), Whiteface’s marketing department long ago adopted an honesty-is-the-best-policy approach and emphasized the mountain’s stature and force-of-nature personality – from the “Take Off Your Training Wheels” tagline to my personal favorite, the “That’s Mr. Whiteface to You” campaign from almost ten years ago.
Thus, it goes without saying that you can never go wrong by bringing a pair of freshly tuned, mid-fat skis to attack Whiteface’s main offering, long cruisers, but the mountain also has some dedicated bump runs, a handful of glades pruned out of the thick forests, and, my personal favorites, several narrow, natural-snow trails like Empire, Mackenzie, and Blazer’s Bluff. And when the rope goes down on the fabled Slides, usually in late March, steeps lovers can attack 35 acres of expert, side-country terrain featuring a series of narrow chutes, a frozen waterfall, extremely variable conditions, and a few spots where you have to, as they say, “make some decisions.”
Surrounded by New York State “Forever Wild” lands, you’ll never see any resort-related development of any kind outside of the ski area perimeter. As the mountain’s website reminds you, “the fresh air filling your lungs has just blown over a protected park larger than Yellowstone and Yosemite combined.” However, the downside of being in the middle of a state-sanctioned no-development zone is exactly that – you can’t develop anything, and that includes ski terrain. This predicament has contributed to what many have always considered to be a major drawback at Whiteface: the relatively low number of skiable acres for such a tall mountain.
The snow report from this morning was legit: 20 on the upper mountain and 14 on the lower half. But if you stayed on the open trails all day, you wouldn’t have known it. Apparently, Monday’s all-day gusher did a real job on Whiteface, liquidating the base in the woods and turning the on-piste into cement.
The dump that we got was so dry and soft, it didn’t do much of a job covering the nastiness underneath on the groomed runs, but if you ventured into the “reserved powder zones,” it was pure $$$.
A snowdog on Little Whiteface
Warm-Up Run on Lower Cloudspin
Me on Upper Parkway
Juliet on Lower Parkway
My personal favorite instrument of torture is SKI Magazine’s annual Top Resort list. When I see the issue at a local ski shop in early autumn, laying there like a big powdered doughnut, I know beforehand that I’ll be reading about the same “winners” as last year and the year before that. Moreover, they’re exactly the kind of places that I’ve historically tried to avoid – the ones that claim to “have it all”: hotels, shopping, restaurants, off-mountain attractions, nightlife to go along with the skiing.
And you know how it goes from there; the resorts that win these awards proudly trumpet the fact that they’ve been recognized as a top destination by their target audience. Meanwhile, the ones left off the list use their snubbing as a badge of honor to prove that they’re too hardcore or off the beaten path to appeal to the publication’s pampered readers.
Lake Placid
With 70 million people living within a day’s drive, Lake Placid is no stranger to best-of lists. Recent accolades include Forbes Traveler website, which named it one of America’s prettiest towns thanks to its “classic Main Street, pine-speckled hills, and pristine small lakes.” MSN City Guide rated it as one of “America’s Top 10 Best Outdoor Towns.” Travel and Leisure praised it as “the kind of place that makes you angry other people get to live there year-round.” And while, as a general rule, the Northeast never takes nationwide honors in anything ski-related, Lake Placid has, for the past 16 years, been voted #1 in the nation for SKI Magazine’s “Off-Hill Activities” award.
So when I decided to spend a family weekend in Lake Placid, I did it while breaking the two cardinal rules of East Coast skiing: a) planning a destination trip more than a week in advance, and b) scheduling it for the second half of December, a classic Bermuda Triangle of Northeastern ski weather. Ignoring those two bits of conventional wisdom is traditionally a sure-fire recipe for disaster, but go figure, my gamble paid off when a storm dropped 20 inches of dry powder on Whiteface the night of our arrival.
Lots of people were mulling about Lake Placid, which gets lots of mileage out of the ’32 and ’80 Olympics. The ice rink in particular has become a pilgrimage site for hockey players, and there are tons of them here, all dressed identically in their team colors for a tournament. I was at the big 1980 game against the Russians and still remember the patriotic fury when the clock ran out.
Hockey Buds
Saranac Avenue
Rosebud Sled
Vintage Posters
Hockey Arena
Last night, we headed out in a pretty fierce snowstorm to the Van Hoevenburg Olympic Center, where ORDA has the bobsled and luge facilities — the only place in North America, I was told, where the public can take a ride for $75. I’m a real pansy when it comes to roller coasters (equilibrium issues), but I felt I had to do this, since so few people can claim to have been in a bobsled.
Claude in Training
Starting Gate
Commandeered by a professional driver and brakeman, the first few seconds went by painlessly, but when we hit a series of 3-G turns, with the ice flying by literally inches from my helmet, the possibility of immediate decapitation made me keep a death grip on the inside of the sled. I was seated directly behind the driver and had absolutely no clue how he was able to make turns going at that speed. Afterward, he saw my ashen face and mentioned that we “only” hit a top speed of 55 mph, instead of the 80 mph they can reach in real competitions.
Finish Line
Whiteface
Tall and narrow, Whiteface Mountain not only offers the biggest lift-served vertical drop east of the Rockies, it’s more than many ski areas out west. Those accustomed to smaller hills where they can zip from summit to base in a couple minutes will be impressed by Whiteface’s thigh-burning, top-to-bottom runs. And with both the high-speed Cloudsplitter Gondola and Facelift Quad leaving from the base, you can quickly rack up big vertical. Of course, whenever a ski area claims any kind of “best, longest, highest, toughest” descriptors in its advertising these days, crossing your T’s and dotting your I’s is absolutely mandatory, because the online ski community will quickly call you on any inaccuracy.
One of Whiteface’s ad campaigns last year featured a beautiful helicopter shot of the ski area with signposts indicating how other high-profile mountains compare to Whiteface in the vertical department. It’s an effective visual aimed at people who value superlatives. But when the graphic first went live in early autumn, a “3,430 feet” marker was placed at the top of the Summit lift (it’s actually a still noteworthy 3,116 feet), which quickly led to a fair number of internet posts calling foul on the claim. You’ll now see an asterisked disclaimer explaining that the larger number was measured higher up on the mountain, from The Slides.
Despite recording 225, 263, and 202 inches of snow in three consecutive seasons, very respectable by eastern standards, Whiteface is best known for its hard and fast conditions, or what some would call “a racer’s mountain.” Often out of reach of powerful lake-effect storms that, sadly, dump most of their load on the Tug Hill Plateau to the southwest, the mountain also gets hit with scouring winds that blast a good portion of its cover into the next county. So like many eastern ski areas, you have to get it while the getting’s good, because conditions can quickly change from memorable to “let’s go get a beer.” I’ve skied there in every possible condition – from deep powder to perfectly groomed corduroy to luscious spring corn to brutal sheets of ice – and by the end of almost every season, Whiteface’s clientele will have experienced all of them.
While much has been done to soften the obvious rough edges (the aforementioned high-speed lifts, along with improved grooming and expanded snowmaking), Whiteface’s marketing department long ago adopted an honesty-is-the-best-policy approach and emphasized the mountain’s stature and force-of-nature personality – from the “Take Off Your Training Wheels” tagline to my personal favorite, the “That’s Mr. Whiteface to You” campaign from almost ten years ago.
Thus, it goes without saying that you can never go wrong by bringing a pair of freshly tuned, mid-fat skis to attack Whiteface’s main offering, long cruisers, but the mountain also has some dedicated bump runs, a handful of glades pruned out of the thick forests, and, my personal favorites, several narrow, natural-snow trails like Empire, Mackenzie, and Blazer’s Bluff. And when the rope goes down on the fabled Slides, usually in late March, steeps lovers can attack 35 acres of expert, side-country terrain featuring a series of narrow chutes, a frozen waterfall, extremely variable conditions, and a few spots where you have to, as they say, “make some decisions.”
Surrounded by New York State “Forever Wild” lands, you’ll never see any resort-related development of any kind outside of the ski area perimeter. As the mountain’s website reminds you, “the fresh air filling your lungs has just blown over a protected park larger than Yellowstone and Yosemite combined.” However, the downside of being in the middle of a state-sanctioned no-development zone is exactly that – you can’t develop anything, and that includes ski terrain. This predicament has contributed to what many have always considered to be a major drawback at Whiteface: the relatively low number of skiable acres for such a tall mountain.
The snow report from this morning was legit: 20 on the upper mountain and 14 on the lower half. But if you stayed on the open trails all day, you wouldn’t have known it. Apparently, Monday’s all-day gusher did a real job on Whiteface, liquidating the base in the woods and turning the on-piste into cement.
The dump that we got was so dry and soft, it didn’t do much of a job covering the nastiness underneath on the groomed runs, but if you ventured into the “reserved powder zones,” it was pure $$$.
A snowdog on Little Whiteface
Warm-Up Run on Lower Cloudspin
Me on Upper Parkway
Juliet on Lower Parkway
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