Space Between My Skis

Souzz is on the Alumni Board for her college, St.Michael’s, near Burlington, Vermont, and there was a board meeting this past weekend…so of course I tagged along to enjoy the winter fun. Afterwards, we were able to squeeze in a day of skiing at Stowe—a place that I hadn’t visited in forty years (!).

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I’ve enjoyed downhill skiing for a long time, as I was taught to ski by my dad at age seven (my age, not his) in the Black Hills of South Dakota. When we lived in Rapid City, we had season tickets to nearby Terry Peak, and the whole family had a chance to learn the sport, pretty special (thanks, dad!).

My Stowe history began in 1979, when my high school ski club came up to Vermont from Virginia on a four-day bus trip. Back then, I had bushy hair, Stowe’s lift tickets were $16, the mountain had 34 trails, and skiing was my main passion. In the present day, my hair looks best under a helmet, lift tickets are $147, and Stowe has more than a hundred trails…but I still have a passion for skiing.

Souzz spent a lot of time during college in the 1980s gazing out at Mount Mansfield–the highest point in the state of Vermont, and one of the two mountains that form Stowe (Spruce Peak is the other). She didn’t downhill ski back then, only recently having found the sport, so she welcomed the chance to appreciate the view from the other direction.

There is a lot of history to this place. Stowe started as a lumber camp in the late 1700s, and skiing here likely began in the 1800s. The first known recreational skiing was in 1914, when a Dartmouth librarian skied down a trail now called the “Toll Road.”

During the Great Depression, the Civilian Conservation Corps built a road to Stowe for automobiles, and the US Ski Patrol was started at Stowe in 1934. The resort fully opened for business in 1936, and lift tickets were a dollar (still a hefty sum during the Depression).

Stowe felt the impact of World War II in a lot of ways. For starters, the Stowe ski patrol had a big hand in training the US Army’s 10th Mountain Division (specializing in winter warfare, often on skis). And in the midst of the war, Stowe’s only chairlift had to operate on a limited schedule due to fuel rationing.

Today Stowe is big business, with a lot of fancy lifts and services, and an entire village at the base of Spruce Peak (some call the village the Vail of the East).

Still, in some ways, the mountains are just as they have always been.

Another thing that is unchanged about Stowe is the cold. On that 1979 trip, I remember that the lift operator on the single chair handed me a pancho-style wool blanket before I got on the lift. At the top, I handed my blanket back to an attendant who then stacked it onto a pile of blankets that rode down on returning chairs. This practice continued until the single chair was replaced with a faster four-person chair in 1986.

As a teenager, I also remember aggressive runs down steep trails with huge moguls, as well as a big wipeout on a trail called Hayride. I’ve had a lot of falls over the years, but that one was particularly memorable because I knocked the wind out of myself on my thermos (tucked neatly inside the chest pocket of my anorak). Gasping for air after a faceplant is no way to look cool in front of your high school buddies.

It was also at Stowe that my high school idol, Tye, broke a ski binding in the middle of a trail called Goat (part of Stowe’s fabled “Front Four”) and then promptly one-skied the rest of the way down (clearly a cooler move than doing the Heimlich on yourself with a thermos). I had been trying hard to keep up with Tye on that trip, but it always felt like he was trying to lose me (well, maybe he was).

My return trip to Stowe this year was marked by a more conservative approach, but there was still some nice skiing, including a bunch of trails recommended by Souzz’s friend George. I even got back onto Hayride (sans faceplant)–and I love that George calls Hayride a “cruiser” (see his note below). It occurs to me that George might be a better skier than I am.

I’m no expert skier, but I’ve had the chance to travel and ski a fair amount—and Stowe remains my absolute favorite. The conditions have been great on my trips, the terrain is super interesting, and the mountain has a great vibe.

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I shared a chair with these fine folks. Is it still 1979?

Lastly, my Stowe advice: leave the thermos at home, skip Hayride, and don’t try to keep up with anybody named Tye.

This Palace is All Ears

A few posts ago, I mentioned that there were some stops that one just has to make on a road trip. The Corn Palace in Mitchell, South Dakota is one such place. It was built in 1892 to showcase the rich soil of South Dakota and to promote one of the state’s most popular crops. Some 120+ years later, it still claims to be the only palace made of corn in the entire world–a dubious claim when one considers how popular corn must be as a building material.

DSC_0295Ok, so the Corn Palace isn’t actually made of corn; it’s just decorated with it–and the decorations change every year. It’s only partially completed now–although it will be done in time for the Corn Palace Festival in late August. But even without the towers on top, it’s looking good, and it brought back more childhood memories.

Here’s a look at the Corn Palace today versus 1968. 

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In a fit of tourist fever, we bought some popping corn at the gift shop; I really hope we didn’t compromise the foundation.

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