by James Michaud

Highmount, NY - While the formation of a citizen's group to help save a local ski area in danger of closing isn't unheard-of, the longevity, enthusiasm, and organizational powers of the Coalition To Save Belleayre Mountain are. Formed in the early 1980s when New York State threatened to shutter this government-owned and -operated ski operation in the western Catskills, the Coalition has, over more than a quarter century, served as a vigilant watchdog and public-relations advocate for an unspoiled, but economically struggling region.

How I Came To View North Carolina As A Legitimate Ski Destination
By Jeff Hemmel

A ski and snowboard vacation in the mountains of the Kitty Hawk state can be summed up in a variation on one simple phrase: “We’re in North Carolina.”

by James Michaud

Windham, NY - Is there a ski area within easy driving distance of where you live that you never got around to – either because you heard that it’s too expensive, or crowded, or that the terrain wasn’t that interesting, or you didn’t like the crowd that hung out there, or some other reason that you can’t even recall? Most people have one of these blindspots, and Windham Mountain was mine.

Story and photos by James Michaud

Highmount, NY - When you go back to visit your childhood neighborhood or a town where you spent part of your earlier life, things are rarely the same as before. Change or "progress" has occurred. The family-owned dairy that made and sold its ice cream on-premises has been razed and replaced by a Chili's. The forest where you cut bike trails as a kid (before there were mountain bikes) was bought by a developer and transformed into a subdivision filled with identikit houses. The baseball stadium where you used to watch the hometown team is now named after a supermarket chain, bank, or soft drink. Maybe it’s different for you, but that’s my story and I'm sticking with it.

I guess the short version of this setup is that these days, it's getting more and more difficult to find "places" rather than brand outposts. And it’s not just cities and suburbs; ski areas are moving in this direction too. Meat-and-potato skiers who prefer atmosphere to amenities are getting increasingly disenchanted about the fact that many of today's mountains seem to be increasingly dedicated to one thing –separating guests from their discretionary income. But with snowmaking and other costs pushing the number of "lost" ski areas here in the northeast into the mid three figures, realists also have to come to terms with some unpleasant truths.

Story by Sharon Heller
Photos courtesy Gore Mountain

North Creek, NY - I first visited Gore Mountain during graduate school in the mid 1980s. The southern Adirondack ski and snowboard area felt like an intermediate local hill just north of the ever-growing Capital District surrounding Albany, with lots of crowds, long lift lines, and a lack of challenging terrain. For most of the next two decades I would cut east just south of Lake George and drive an extra hour or two to ski and snowboard resorts in Vermont's Green Mountains for my fix of big mountain eastern skiing. Nearly twenty years later, I revisited the New York State-owned and operated ski area in North Creek and found much more than back in my college days.

by Marc Guido

Hancock, VT - Vermont is a state of wonderfully diverse ski and snowboard experiences. At one end of the spectrum, luxury resorts such as Stratton and Stowe offer every plush amenity that a visitor could desire. At the other end of the spectrum are down-home, old-fashioned family ski areas like Middlebury College Snow Bowl.

by Sharon Heller

Ludlow, VT (November 2004) - Jackson Gore is the newest addition to Okemo’s already expansive mountain facilities. It includes the Jackson Gore Inn, the Jackson Gore Base Area and Jackson Gore Peak – a fifth mountain area, adding 14 trails and a learning area to this central Vermont resort.

by Marc Guido

Plymouth, VT - My mission was a daunting one: to find lift-served elbow room in Vermont during the extended President’s Weekend holiday. Longing to escape the crowds and find my own personal enclave of solitude amongst the state’s numerous ski lifts, I had already spent hours on Saturday night mulling over the various pros and cons of my many options when a previously overlooked choice popped into my head: Bear Creek Mountain Club.

by Marc Guido

Roxbury, NY - The weather radio crackled with a Winter Storm Warning issued by the National Weather Service in Albany. Six to 10 inches of snow were expected overnight in New York State's Capital District, and 11 to 14 inches to the south in the Catskills. The situation was setting up perfectly for a "Powder Daize."

by Sharon Heller

Londonderry, VT - When I was in graduate school in 1988 I skied at Magic Mountain. The weekday lift tickets were $15 back then, an attractive price for a poor student. It may have been cheap, but I remember good skiing for such a small place, with nice terrain and no frills barely more than an hour from my school in New York State’s Capital District. The following year, Magic Mountain shut down operations for eight years and I turned my ski interests to the bigger Vermont ski areas further north.

Story by Sharon Heller Photos by Marc Guido

Ellicottville, NY - The warm rain washed away the early December snow that had fallen in copious amounts the prior weekend and frigid air was on its tails. The conditions for the coming weekend were looking like refrozen saturated snow, in other words “boilerplate” and “death cookies.” The cold air worked up the moisture from the Great lakes, causing bands of lake effect snow to reach across New York State that dumped up to a foot in some places on the lee side of the state’s two neighboring Great Lakes. These bands of heavy snow gave us hope for powdery surfaces at the ski areas in the path of these bands.

Story by Sharon Heller Photos by Marc Guido

Six warm, snowless months have passed. The leaves have fallen from the trees, and the first stretches of cold weather have come to the northeastern United States. On the Internet, ski-related chat rooms, message boards and listservs are busy with the buzz of the dawning winter season. Ski swaps, pre-season shop sales, ski shows and films have made their season debuts, pumping skiers with excitement about the upcoming season with prospects of using new gear on new snow. Ski rags arrive in the mail with their gear and resort reviews that make you drool. The first flakes fly, but it will be at least another month before any significant base accumulates in the woods. Thanks to modern technology, though, early season sliding can happen with just a few cold days, and New England is no exception to that rule.

by Sharon Heller

Cortland, NY - When the lake-effect snow cranks up off Lakes Ontario or Erie, work in New York’s Southern Tier ends early, and the rest of the day is spent choking on powder turns in a blinding blizzard into the night under the lights of Greek Peak. Dinner is a Power Bar, or waits until the lifts stop loading at 10 pm. For those with day jobs, the real virtue of Greek Peak lies in their night skiing that provides a 13-hour window to get in some runs each day. Any night of skiing is better than going to the health club after work or going home and watching TV. It is rarely too late to take a few runs.

by Marc Guido

Lake Placid, NY - What makes a perfect family ski vacation? Is it a mountain large and diverse enough to satisfy all abilities, preferences and choices? Or, is it a quaint village with historical values, a feeling of remote tranquility, invariably warm and hospitable locals, and a festive atmosphere? Perhaps it’s an ample choice of non-ski diversions, to satisfy both the non-sliders in the group and even the skiers and riders in the clan on an “off-day”?

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s all of the above. Maybe it’s Lake Placid, New York.

by Marc Guido

Warren, VT - It was giving me a headache … and heartache, too.

The raindrops rolled off the roof of the Sugarbush Inn and struck the ground outside the porch door of my room, creating an unyielding drone that comforted my soul no more than the piercing screech of fingernails on a blackboard. I grew increasingly weary of the sound. It mocked me, laughing at my cruel twist of fortune.