Gore Mountain: Snacking on a Donut

The rain has been relentless. On my last two drives to the mountains I found myself doing my best Brook Benton baritone. It helps me adjust to a March that looks like April. Still, I haven’t given up on winter. Last week, with a chance of snow in NY, and a bit of now or neverism in my mind, I started making plans.

I skipped skiing Saturday, convincing Scott to roll with me to our camp in the Adirondacks that night. More accurately I convinced Scott to roll the dice with me, and ski Gore on Sunday. When I left NJ in early afternoon, I was driving up in a dreary winter downpour at 41 degrees.

120 miles to the north, temps had only dropped to 39 when I met up with Scott at the Park&Ride near Exit 20 in Saugerties. Just being with Scott cheered me up. Driving together, the miles go quickly.

North of Albany temps were still too high. As we drove up the big hill into Warrensburg, it quickly dropped to 33 degrees and the precipitation changed to wet snow. Some hope! Snow was falling in North Creek when we went through town, and as we drove up from the river to our camp at 1900 feet, it was definitely snowier.

Even after a recent regrading, the steepest part of the drive is still our driveway, and we left my CRV at the bottom of the hill.  Next year, when I’m assimilated into the borg in Johnsburg, I’ll have snowtires on dedicated rims full time, I swear. Scott shoveled the porches and moved our gear up from the bottom, while I built the fire in the stove.

Scott brought what we needed to wax our boards. I’m not the most religious about ski prep, but this storm looked more marginal than usual. I was convinced that if it actually did snow, we were going to need some wax. Scott brought a metal iron that he warmed on the woodstove. Then he melted and spread some nordic wax rated for 32 degrees.

We were losing an hour of sleep to the daylight savings time change and at “11:30” we decided to crash.  Six inches had fallen. It sounded a bit like rain on the roof.  I went out and swept the back porch down to the planks, and then we hit the sack.  The radar looked strong and blue, but we were getting wet.

I woke up in the middle of the night, one time before the 6am alarm. I looked out on the porch and another six inches had fallen.  It was much lighter than the snow that fell before midnight.

My friend James is a Belleayre homer who often reminds me of Gore’s reputation for lying in a snow shadow.  There’s some truth to it, some of it is a limitation of technology, and the rest is legend.  Certainly lake effect has a hard time reaching Gore. But, Gore is also far from the primary sources of radar in Albany and Burlington VT, and some snowfalls can be missed. We’ve come to refer to it as the Gore Donut Hole.

All night I watched the radar. Gore was in the blue, surrounded by what looked like thunderstorms in the summer. This was the emergence of a reverse donut hole — a snow pocket — the product of a very unusual storm. I wish I had saved a copy of the radar when it was happening.

In the morning we were up early making coffee and getting ready to head out. At that point it looked like 14 inches of snow at our place (1900 feet). We took our time driving down the hill. When we got down to Route 28 it was clear.  I guess it was warm enough for the road to melt the snow. Maybe it was salted.

At the main Gore base, there was some new snow around, but not as much as we had back at camp, just 400 feet higher up. We booted up and headed out to get in line. We got into the singles line around 7:50 and the lifts spun a few minutes late, maybe 50 minutes later.

We got off the gondola and booked for Foxlair. Windblown snow was piled up on skiers right and it was drier and more skiable then I expected. I was in the very first gondola so I was upfront on the first charge. It was challenging and fun untracked much of the way. Down on Sunway, there was little loose snow but the skiing was good. Farther down it was wetter and tougher to ski. I lost my place in the stampede with a crash that resulted from an ill-advised drop into ungroomed snow on Pot Luck.

Back at the top of the gondola, the rope was still across access to the summit via Top Ridge. We dropped down to the saddle, where we ripped two deluxe runs on the North Side.

We skated over to the Dark Side and went up top. Wind was in the forecast, but nowhere to be found on the mountain. I don’t think I’ve ever seen 100% absolute calm, when forecasts were for high winds and I was on top of a mountain.

Normally when it’s really windy, I ride the Straightbrook chair. This time it was calm, but we headed over because Scott remembered skiing under the lift, and wanted to check it out.

The snow was significantly better and deeper up top.  Farther down, some spots were fat, and others were thin. We never quite figured out what aspects got the most snow. The wet snow underneath really made a difference, bonding with everything and anything.

We were originally part of a pretty big group, a full gondola car.  We quickly split in half.  Scott and I skied with Mark and John, and it made the morning.  Those guys were loaded with good ideas.

We skied hard and needed a break. Every single run was excellent and we didn’t want to stop. But recently I’ve been punished for letting myself get dehydrated. I was working hard to get enough water and when I ran out, we went into the Straightbrook Lodge and filled my bottle. A few runs later Scott and I stopped for lunch. In the afternoon we skied alone.

Scott said it was the best snow of the season for him, which certainly made the effort feel worthwhile.  At Gore, we know we don’t get the most snow, but the mountain is setup to turn a little good luck with the weather into a huge pile of fun.