Plattekill: Now I Get It

I’ve been lucky to ski many areas across New York, but I haven’t skied the Catskills, until now. When a nor’easter swept up the coast and blanketed the Cats in snow, it felt like the opportunity for Tiff and I to explore. We kicked things off at Belleayre on Tuesday for a sunny machine groomed packed powder day, after the storm. And on Friday we finally made it to Plattekill.

Plattekill operates a little differently. As the last standing family-owned resort in the region, they aren’t chasing flashy. They’re typically open Friday through Sunday to the public, with private mountain rentals at various times during the week. Throughout last week, ten inches of fresh snow had stacked up. Our arrival on Friday was shaping up to be perfect.

Over the years, the writers at NYSkiBlog have expressed excitement about Plattekill, and our expectations were extremely high. Driving up the access road, the mountain revealed itself as a quiet operation with two chairs accessing opposite ends of the bowl shaped mountain. We arrived an hour before opening and were treated by a friendly parking attendant, immaculate mountain views, and few happy riders parked on either side of us. We sensed the energy.

We took a lap around the lodge to get our bearings. Tickets and rentals on the first floor, a bustling cafeteria, panoramic window views, and a fireplace on the second, followed by a wooden bar with views of the slopes on the third. We grabbed a spot by the wood-burning fireplace, sipped coffee, and booted up.

There was something in the air, shared between us and the excited skiers around us, who knew exactly what the storm had left behind. Heading out without a plan made it even better. New mountain, fresh snow, total freedom.

A small group lined up at the Triple, but we rode the Double Chair. Halfway up the lift, watching the first skier drop down Plunge, we knew it was going to be a spectacular day.

Under a flawless bluebird sky, the mountain looked so pristine that it was almost disorienting. Tiff was “wowing” at the beauty of every frosted tree, turning to me more than once to say it didn’t even feel like we were in New York anymore. I laughed and agreed, an East Coast bluebird powder day is a rarity.

Plattekill skied like a dream, an uncrowded mountain with steep fall lines, playful terrain, and endless options. There were no wrong turns, everything was in play. We pointed our tips downhill and let it rip. We tackled the “Front Four” double blacks from looker’s left to right, each run skied like 4” of fresh on top, with snow stacked deeper along the edges, and every turn threw up cold smoke.

Traversing toward Blockbuster, I started eyeing the trees for my next lap. What followed was the best tree skiing I’ve had on the East Coast. The snow was deeper, untouched, sparkling in the sun. The spacing was perfect, open enough to carry speed but tight enough to keep you honest. I was downright giddy, wanting to repeat the run over and over. While I dove into the glades, Tiff was cruising Switchback, finding her own flow in what she referred to as a winter wonderland.

As much as I wanted to lap that area all day, we knew we had to explore more. The terrain off the Triple Chair was baking in direct sun, so we headed that way before it softened up. A long, scenic trip down Powder Puff let the legs reset before we carved machine groomed packed powder blue runs Bailout and Sundown.

Even the downhill mountain bike trails added a fun web of bonus connectors that made the mountain feel like one giant playground. We finished the afternoon back off the Double, exploring Twist and Home Run before taking a final scenic cruise down Overlook.

We ended our day as all great ski days should, with a beer and lunch on the sun soaked deck. Boots loosened and sun on our faces, we sat at a picnic table overlooking the Catskills and skiers of all abilities continuing their runs on the mountain. We were surrounded by others doing the same as a fire crackled nearby and music blared from the Platty Shack roof.

Over the years I have come to learn that we don’t need flashy villages or high speed bubbles, if anything what we prefer is the opposite. You can feel that everyone who is a part of this mountain has a deep appreciation for what Plattekill represents. Its authentic energy is something that is impossible to replicate and even harder to put into words.

We talked about the mountain and how lucky we are to experience places with such personality. Tiff and I both agreed: this was our favorite ski area in New York. Plattekill has a rare combination of charm, authenticity, and passion that’s hard to manufacture.

Then I did what any rational skier would do: grabbed another beverage, opened my phone, booked lodging for the night, and bought our tickets for Saturday.