The Next Valley Over

This is a small slice of the view from the Lincoln Peak base area at Sugarbush.

When I’m in New Zealand during the summer / winter / whatever it is, I often encounter people who have no sense of Vermont – where we are, who we are, what it’s like culturally, topographically, economically, and so forth. In order to describe where I live and work, I usually explain that the whole place is covered by mountains, that the mountains run in ridges that are typically on a North-South axis, that at the foot of every mountain is a river on the valley bottom, that next to every river is a road, and that every town is sited at the bend in one of those rivers. Last year, it helped put the devastation of tropical storm Irene in context – the storm’s destruction made the news in New Zealand for days on end. At the moment, for me personally and professionally, this way of looking at Vermont puts my recent change of job, change of resort, and change of location in context.

Okemo is in Ludlow, which sits at a bend in the Black River as it turns to the East and makes its way towards the Connecticut River. The Connecticut is a major waterway that forms the border between Vermont and New Hampshire, travels through Massachusetts and eventually spills out into Long Island Sound at between the towns of Saybrook and Lyme, Connecticut. In the Black River Valley, the mountains are older and a little lower, so the valleys are a bit wider and shallower, and the rivers are a bit gentler, more placid. Sugarbush, where I am now the Director of the Ski & Ride School, is quite a bit further North and sits in the Mad River Valley with the towns of Warren and Waitsfield at its base. The section of mountains where Sugarbush is located is known as the “Spine of the Greens” and contains some of the highest mountains in the state – highest, steepest, and craggiest. For perspective, Mount Ellen, one of the two lift-serviced peaks in the resort, includes the longest ski lift and longest vertical drop in the state. The river is called the Mad River because, unlike every other waterway in the state, it flows from South to North, going up the valley and then around to the West before spilling into Lake Champlain. Because the peaks are so tall and steep, the valley floor is quite narrow and the towns are densely settled, with all development in Warren and Waitsfield perched directly on the banks of the river. Both towns were hit incredibly hard by Irene even by Vermont standards and, like all of our towns including Ludlow, Warren and Waitsfield have bounced back amazingly well in typical Yankee fashion.

What all of this means for me at the moment is that I haven’t simply switched resorts and communities, I have switched valleys. The Mad River Valley, as I’ve found over the past week, looms large in the minds and hearts of the people who live there. Someone is either from The Valley or not, has worked in The Valley before or not, and understands the particular sensibilities of the folks in The Valley or not. Though it is striking in its use in the lexicon of the area and the resort, it’s particularly interesting in what it tells us about the people who live and make their livelihood in The Valley. People in The Valley are very prideful of their small place in the world and proud to be deep in the heart of Vermont, both literally and figuratively - it is strikingly beautiful and definitely draws people who are particularly devoted to their passions, skiing and riding at Sugarbush among them. I don’t mean prideful in a chest-thumping sort of way, rather it gives them a sense of being in a place that’s a little different, a little bit separated, and definitely reliant on themselves as a community to sink or swim together. I am not from The Valley, I haven’t had a lot of exposure to The Valley, and as an outsider coming in, it’s important that I respect what makes the place so great and so different.

My sense of things is that the ski industry in America is at the end of an era where the watering down of skiing and riding and the resorts where we pursue them was the norm, and at the start of one where adventure is coming back into it’s rightful place in our lives. At Sugarbush and in The Valley, the response to this idea is “Duh, where have you been?!” Well, I’ve been in a very different valley, not better or worse but different, and I’m now very excited to be in The Valley. Every morning when I arrive at work and I look up from the Mad River to the tops of Lincoln Peak and Mount Ellen, I’m aware that I’ve arrived somewhere special. T.S. Elliot said in 'Little Gidding' “The end is where we start from”, and that’s true of moving from one valley to the next and from one resort to another. My time at Okemo and the Black River Valley has ended and my time at Sugarbush and the Mad River Valley has started. And I just can’t wait to ski here!

Signing Off from Wanaka

As often as I travel, some things never fail to amaze me. This morning, Monday, I woke in Wanaka, New Zealand where I am now sitting amidst packed bags. At the end of my day, a very long day, I'll be in the high desert of Arizona for a few days of contemplation before heading home to Vermont. Despite the lack of snow here in New Zealand (until today, apparently), I've had a terrific season of teaching at Cardrona, benefiting from their exceptionally professional staff and their incredibly welcoming atmosphere. They really made me feel at home, something for which I'm very grateful. I've enjoyed being a ski teacher this season as much as I have in a very long time. Still, new adventures await me at Sugarbush Resort in Vermont - I'm definitely excited, I have a lot to learn and there's a lot to do. In the meantime, I'll take one last look at the always jaw-dropping Southern Alps before getting my flip-flops some much-needed outdoor exercise on my way home. So, that's me done, signing off from Wanaka after another winter. Until next time ...