Mount Peter: Home Again

A home mountain is more then 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.

Continue reading →

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.

Continue reading →

Chasing Plake

We were on our way north when my preferred social media network alerted me that Glen Plake was bringing his Down Home Tour to Plattekill this weekend. I heard just in time too — right before we had to make that Freedom Pass call: Plattekill or Magic.

Glen Plake hucks
First Descent of Plake Chute courtesy John Tunis

There was no way I was gonna miss the chance to meet the star of the “Blizzard of Aahhhs” —  Glen has to be considered one of the legendary pro skiers of all time.

Plattekill is always fun, and even if it turned out that Plake’s visit was a photo-and-handshake publicity stunt, I knew we would have a great time. We turned onto Route 28 and headed west.

Continue reading →