On sustaining 50 years of business off heli drops and pillow pops.
Crouched on the edge of the pickup zone, we were in position, covering our faces to shield the ice and snow pelting we anticipated from the incoming helicopter. A mix of heli-skiing veterans and newbies, we are ecstatic—and maybe a touch nervous.
It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve been in a helicopter–dressed from head-to-toe in Gore-Tex, ready for blower snow and turns that dreams are made of. When you see that belly coming in hot for landing it’s powerfully exciting.
We were never hardcore skiers. Just a hardcore family.
I'm finalizing the details of a family ski vacation to Mount Snow, Vermont. It occurs to me that it may well be our last family ski trip as a foursome, and I’m having a difficult time getting my head around that fact.
What’s ending our run? Not ill health, not divorce, not boredom with the sport or the mountains. Thankfully, there isn’t job relocation taking us away from the snow. No, my two girls are growing up. Actually, they have grown up. And damn, are they busy.
Killington’s Bear Mountain Mogul Challenge and Sugarloaf’s Reggae Fest dominate the East Coast slopeside party scene.
One of these days, this cold is going to break…that much we know. Also this: When it does, the 2015 spring skiing season promises to be one of the best ever.
From the Berkshires to Tuckerman Ravine, the Eastern snowpack remains in full lockdown mode…hardly a flake of snow has been lost since about Christmas, thanks to a freakishly stubborn weather pattern that keeps pumping arctic air and steady snowfall into the region while Western resorts suffer warm days and persistent drought.
From Pink Vail to Skiing With Heroes, on-snow charities give extra meaning to a day on the mountain.
Voluptuous tutus, sequined pirate hats, flowing superhero capes—all pink—proliferated on Vail’s slopes. In costumes and with flare, skiers joined an annual charity event called Pink Vail, which is held each spring.
All aboard the Winter Park Express, this skier experiences the reinvigoration of a Colorado ski train.
The jingling alarm didn’t wake me, but the sound of a train whistle did. I sat up straight. It was Ski Train Day—no regular Saturday ski day—when the Winter Park Express would run from Denver’s Union Station to Winter Park Resort and back.