Fear of Flying
What’s wrong with this picture of the Peruvian lift at Snowbird, gateway to idyllic terrain? Not a damn thing, unless, like your esteemed Editor, you suffer from FOHL. Photo by “Guru” Dave Powers. I don’t remember the first time I felt it, at least...
The Things We Do for Love, Part 1
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Will the Next Generation of Skiers Be the Last?
The future of Alpine skiing as we know it is very much in doubt. These little tykes may very well be part of the last generation of skiers. Ski resorts generally do what they can to lower barriers to kids’ participation, like discounts for kids’ tickets and...
Road Tripping
Among the many dissatisfactions of this most unusual season is that travel beyond one’s local environs has been roundly discouraged. Don’t get me wrong: I’m grateful down to my socks that we’re allowed to ski locally, and my version of same is pretty sweet. Pardon the plug, but between Alpine Meadows, Squaw Valley and Mt. Rose I have a smorgasbord of savory choices.
But skiing close to home and skiing on the road are two different beasts. Nothing is the same, really, and therein lies a great deal of the road trip’s charms.
To shed light on my premise, allow me to pull back the veil on my favorite away game, an annual pilgrimage to Little Cottonwood Canyon. By the end of this brief travelogue you will probably hate me, so please fill your vessel of good will to the rim before proceeding.