Grays On Trays

Sometimes the value of a ski area isn’t measured in its terrain, but in the support it receives.

The Ski Bowl at Mulligan’s Hollow is in Grand Haven, Michigan, perhaps two miles from Lake Michigan.

You won’t confuse the ski bowl for Vail or Stowe or even the typical Midwestern ski area. At just seven acres, it’s smaller than the parking lots at major destination resorts.

Even a slow double chair would be outsized. The bowl, which has six named slopes, is served by five tow ropes. The longest slope is 700 feet–about the length of two Wal-Mart or Target stores.

On the upside, there’s another small dimension: A season pass is $65. You can take lessons as well as develop your skills in slalom racing or in freestyle snowboarding or skiing.

You can also develop your muscles in civic participation by supporting the bowl, which has depended, in part, on the local Rotary, volunteer workers, area businesses, and the local community foundation.

Recently supporters held Burgers on the Bowl, one of several fundraising events that has helped pay for lighting, snow-making equipment, and a groomer.

The bowl has seen its share of financial difficulties through the years:

The city opened the Ski Bowl in December 1963, but the facility closed in the late 1970s because the city had higher priorities at the time than to repair the aging ski hill equipment. Several residents and supporters stepped in and raised money to reopen the Ski Bowl in 1981.

The adjacent Tri-Cities Family YMCA took over the operation in the early 1990s, which may have kept it from being closed down again. The YMCA ran it until 2005 when its own budget constraints became an issue, and the city took it over again. That’s when the group — many of whom were already involved in the support of the ski facility over the years — stepped up and asked to take over the operations.

By the way, the bowl is the ski “area” closest to Muskegon, the home of the Snurfer, the predecessor of today’s snowboard.

Ski areas are starting to add Facebook, Twitter, and other social media tools to their marketing mix. Unfortunately, putting your name out there in the public sphere can also give members of the public–that is, your (would-be) customers–the opportunity to criticize you.

So how’s a ski area to respond? Somehow I don’t think that Welch Village, Minnesota, has the right idea. Here’s a notice from its Facebook fan page:

Attention Terrain Park Complainers: There are 60 runs at Welch Village that we are trying to open for all of our guests. We are taking advantage of this cold weather to make snow for the entire ski area, this maybe our last opportunity to do so. A lot of our park crew is working long hours making snow this year. We …will block users who only complain about the terrain park and erase negative and abusive comments.

In an earlier post, the Welch Village Facebook manager told customers, “You should just relax about the terrain park.”

Removing negative comments, from my understanding of online PR, is not the way to go. Announcing that you’re going to do it makes things worse. Telling customers to be quiet doesn’t help.

Welch Village has “fans” who defend it, and it ought to let them carry the load, while patiently explaining its plan for preparing the terrain for the season.

Some ski areas are owned and run by big companies (think Vail Resort) or enterprises that can boast of world-class terrain (think of the Aspen Ski Company). Then there are the industrialists who have a ski business on the side.

The March/April 2009 edition of Enterprise Minnesota (article not online) has a one-page write-up of Vern Anderson and Paul Anderson, who are the brothers behind Andes Tower Hills.

ATH is about 50 miles east of the Minnesota-South Dakota border, so don’t expect half-hour runs. Neither the company web site nor the 2008-09 season brochure give any indication of the vertical drop, though OnTheSnow.com says it’s 290 feet, on 35 acres.

So none of the three words in the name–Andes, tower, hills–is that informative. But you make do with what you have. At least that was the motto of hill owner Vern Anderson, who says “I’ve always enjoyed the winter … and as a family we really enjoyed skiing.” Since the nearest lift-served terrain (Powder Ridge, 300 vertical feet and 60 acres) was 75 miles away, “the only solution, Anderson decided, was to build a ski resort himself.”

Today, the magazine says, ATH gets 60,000 visits a year. That’s a pretty good amount of traffic, considering that the county the hills is in has a population of just over 38,000.

Anderson is the CEO of Douglas Machine, so he turns the operations over to manager John Bitner. Bitner talks up the area’s vibe: “We–flat out–have the best family atmosphere for skiers and snowboarders in the state of Minnesota. That’s what’s unique about us.” Anderson, for his part, says “Seeing kids and families have a really great tine. That’s what’s exciting.”

If you’re one of those people who chafes at the commercialization of winter sports (my attitude: Meh), think of Andes Tower Hills, and many other small places like it, where the passion of owners and managers keep the wheels turning.

Being a Midwesterner, I’ve wondered how my fellow journalists would respond to their trip to Lutsen Mountain. Here are excerpts of what I found so far:

Lutsen Mountains … a Midwest gem
Dan Cassidy
Maine Today

One thing you won’t get at Lutsen is altitude sickness. No, that won’t happen here. However, you’ll ski more relaxed. The lifts are a little on the slow side. They’re the older two seats with a pole in the middle that travels a little slower than the more modern quads. It gives you time to relax, enjoy the scenery and get to know your neighbor.

From Moose Mountain Summit Chalet, you can enjoy a wonderful meal, sit outside on the wrap around deck and enjoy the vistas of Lake Superior. On a recent evening while attending our North American Snowsports Journalists Association (NASJA) reception and banquet, I took a walk outside just to watch the sunset and look over the Lake in the distance, and noticed five white tail deer walking across the trails below. Deer sighting are common all over the resort.

Indeed. One of my fellow convention-goers told me of spotting a dead deer in the woods.

Cassidy has several other blog entries on his trip, including one on a 150-mile snowmobile journey to the Canadian border and back, which occurred before the convention.

He also wrote of a trip to the nearby town of Grand Marais, writing

“Having just spent a week snowmobiling, skiing and touring along the western shore of Minnesota’s Lake Superior, I had the feeling of a touch of home. The shoreline and forests from Lutsen to Grand Marais resembled the coast and woods of Maine’s villages and towns.”

Minnesota’s Lake Superior? As a native Michigander, I’d have to take issue with that. More of the lake is in Michigan’s jurisdiction than that of the other units of government that border the lake, Wisconsin, Minnesota, and Ontario. But I would agree that the North Shore of Minnesota and the Maine coast have a similar feel.

You’re Going Where…On Purpose?!
Neal Estano
Albany Times-Union

Duluth is a small city of about 85,000 hardy residence. Sitting on the western tip of Lake Superior it gets some of the harshest weather in the lower 48. Duluth’s nickname is “The Air-Conditioned City” because of cooling effect of Lake Superior who’s water temperature struggles to reach the 50 degree mark.

Duluth is about a 90-minute drive from Lutsen, and the nearest “big” city.

Estano also wrote “A Pleasant Surprise in the North Country” on March 24. He said, in part,

With just under 1000 vertical feet Lutsen is not a big mountain but they do a lot with what they have. As my fellow NASJA member and friend Phil Johnson of Clifton Park said: “There’s not a lot of vertical…but there a heck of a lot of horizontal”.

Estano also has some photos of convention-goers climbing up a frozen waterfall.

Weekly Skiing Column
Bob Cox
Torrance (Calif.) Daily Breeze

Lutsen Mountain, Minn., is not one of the major stops or even one of the best-known ski areas in America. Yet that’s where [World Cup champion Lindsey] Vonn started her career, following in the footsteps of another great Minnesota racer, Cindy Nelson.

The resort was founded by Nelson’s family, and is hard by the shores of Lake Superior. It is located about 100 miles north of Duluth, which puts it close to the Canadian border.

To get a perspective on racers coming from Lutsen, consider that the mountain has a vertical drop of only 975 feet. To create an FIS-approved race course, the mountain had to build a start platform 25 feet above the peak, to achieve a vertical drop of 1,000 feet.

We started our NASTAR race about 50 feet below the bottom of the platform.

Oh deer. A nature and snowmobile lesson in Lutsen
Martin Griff
The Times of Trenton

Griff has several articles about two different trips he made to Lutsen. The link above takes you to a short article about a snowmobile trip (not the 150-mile trek that Cassidy wrote about), and a good photo of death, animal-style, on the trail.

The New York Times ran a review of Lutsen Mountains, where I spent a few days last week.

It overstates the amount of vertical by about 100 feet, but offers the interesting fact that the gondola ride is a mile long. (Given the previous misstatement, I wonder if that’s correct). The gondola is a nifty novelty for the Midwest, but it’s fairly slow; don’t plan on using it to make laps.

“Runs at the Minnesota resort wind through the woods for almost two miles — intermediate avenues that roll and drop, then roll on some more.”

That’s true for some of the runs, though certainly not all. During my trip, I could tell that I haven’t been working out at the gym very much. My legs actually got a bit tired at the end of the first day there.

The article says that Lutsen get 100,000 skier visits a year. The Minneapolis-St. Paul metro area, 4.5 hours to the south, is home to five small ski areas (Afton Alps, Buck Hill, Hyland Hills, Welch Village, Wild Mountain), each of which has about 300 feet of vertical. Together, they take in (my guess based on some conversations I’ve had) 600,000 visits a year. The fact that they get so many more visits with much less extensive and impressive terrain only serves to show that even in the ski business, location, location, location are three important words.

Location, in fact, is the most serious problem that Lutsen faces: “Lutsen is remote. For skiers from Milwaukee or Chicago, boarding a plane to ski Crested Butte in Colorado or Jackson Hole in Wyoming can be almost as quick as driving to the North Shore in Minnesota.” On the other hand, getting to those places requires a substantial outlay for airfare, which could be a problem for families.

One writer mentioned in the article compares the drive along Lake Superior to parts of Maine. In parts, yes. Just be sure to take the scene route, else you miss the most interesting parts of the drive. Watch for the deer, though!

In pursuit of a different topic, I came across an interesting discussion on the site EpicSki.com, titled “Why do we ski in the Midwest?” It’s a great question for anyone who skis or rides. I’m not one of those riders who gets insulted when someone asks “Did you go skiing this weekend?” So when you read “ski,” read it to include “snowboarding” as well.

Here are some of the answers that people submitted. I’ve slightly edited a few responses for grammar and presentation, and grouped them into categories.

CAMARADERIE
- You are seldom more than a minute or two away from the bar.

- If you get on the lift with a real a**hole, don’t worry, you’ll be off the lift in just a few minutes.

- Because 30 chair rides gives you 30 chances to meet new friends.

- You do get to know the other “regulars” because on many weekdays you are the only skiers there.

- The joy of teaching a new skier [or rider].

- Because even 400′ gives you time with your family and friends building memories that will last forever.

SAFETY
- You can’t get lost.

- Good place to ski if you are scared of heights.

- If you get hurt, it is a short toboggan ride to the Ski Patrol room.

- The saving grace of Midwest skiing is kids love it and parents can let them have the run of the hill without them getting into trouble.

CONVENIENCE
- Of course the main reason we ski in the Midwest is because it is close to home.

- I am content to make the most out of what is in easy driving distance.

- I may not ski Mountains, but I ski 3-4 times a week and have a smile on my face all the time I’m doing it. That smile on my face is reason enough!

- We tend to ski out-west or in Vermont now, but our ski trips to Michigan were more pure fun and less headache than our “better” trips to larger resorts.

- Because it is fun and accessible.

MAKING THE MOST OF TECHNIQUES
- I think that Midwest skiing really teaches skiers to love the sport and every turn possible.

- Skiing in the Midwest teaches you to turn. If you don’t make turns, the ride is short and boring.

- Because it’s fun to see how many times you can turn in one run.

- You can refine techniques to perfection on a small hill just as you can anywhere else.

IT BEATS THE MOST LIKELY ALTERNATIVES
- Because it’s better than working.

- Because it’s more fun than ice fishing.

- What else is there to do outside in the winter in Minnesota.

IT’S ALL GOOD
- I’ve never had a bad day on skis, regardless of location.

- Because it’s better than not skiing.

- The overall level of fun has never seemed higher to me at a big mountain; it’s just interrupted less frequently.

MY OWN TAKE
I agree with many of statements above. I would add a few more.

- Skiing can occur in some beautiful places, even in the Midwest. I must admit that skiing and snowboarding in the Midwest can occur at places that aren’t as pleasant as many places in the Rockies. The dozen or so Midwestern ski areas I’ve been to are, in addition to being relatively flat and short, tend to be cut from less impressive forests, have fewer trees, and generally have less visual beauty. But if you use your imagination, you can visit vast forests while riding up the chairlift. And a gentle snowfall can be beautiful, no matter where you are.

- Skiing and riding are a way of giving a big “says you” to big, bad winter. Winter becomes something to enjoy, not dread.

- There’s a special joy to be found in skiing or snowboarding during an extremely cold day. Once you get over the initial shock, you think “Good Lord, I’m ALIVE!”

- Setting skiing and riding goals and achieving them can be personally satisfying. Learn a new trick. Manage your fear of steeps or of ice. Set a new personal best in racing. If you’re a skier, try snowboarding. If you’re a snowboarder, try racing. And so on.

- Even on a small hill, you can get the rhythm and dance on the snow.

My first season pass was at Buck Hill, a place so small that boredom from doing laps on skis made me look into snowboarding. The “Buck Hill” name precedes the ski operation, allegedly stemming from–you guessed it–the bucks that could have, at one time, been seen grazing on the hill, with today. You won’t find any bucks around today, though from many points on the hill you’ll be able to see Interstate 35, which travels from Minnesota, down through the center of the country, and into Texas.

Buck is a day (and night) area where residents of the Minneapolis-St. Paul metropolitan area can get some quick turns. Once out in the sticks, it’s now easily accessible from both major cities as well as the southern suburbs that have expanded over the last 40 years.

Its claim to fame is not its terrain (100 acres, 300 vertical feet) but its ski racing heritage. Many adults race in leagues and high school teams seem to take over the place from 3pm until 6pm. Buck has been the training ground for World Cup downhill skiers such as Kristina Koznick (now retired) and Lindsey Kildow Vonn, who finished the 2007-08 season as the world’s downhill and overall champion.

The best time to visit is mid-day during the week. Ten dollars will get you three hours of riding or skiing, which is more than you’ll need to cover all the slopes if you’re a freerider. An hour will be enough to let you visit all the named slopes, so use the other two to revisit favorite slopes or experiment with riding switch.

If you want to try the terrain park or halfpipe mid-day, you’re (mostly) out of luck. Those areas are open mid-day, but they’re not too accessible. The easiest way to lap the halfpipe is to take a dedicated rope tow, which doesn’t start running until 3pm. When the rope isn’t working, you may find yourself having to hoof it uphill to a chair. As far as the park goes, you can get there on a lift at any time, but you may have to be careful to keep your speed at the end or you face a short uphill walk.

I’ve mentioned skiers. How about snowboarders? Steve Fisher, a noted halfpipe competitor, got his beginning at Buck Hill.

This season Buck introduces what it claims to be the country’s longest moving carpet. The carpet replaces both a rope tow and a j-bar lift.

A portion of the carpet is covered, to keep kids (and anyone else) from falling off onto the trail below.

Approaching the covered portion:

And inside it:

One thing I like about Buck is its modesty, starting with the name: not Buck Mountain, Buck Alps or Buck Highland, but Buck HILL.

The folks also have a self-depreciating sense of humor, too. On one of my visits there, I noticed a lift attendant having a conversation with a person who had a “Vail” sticker on his gear.

“We’re like Vail,” the liftie said. “They’ve got snow. We’ve got snow. They’ve got an interstate, we’ve got an interstate.” He laughed.

Finally, a tongue-in-cheek sign that I spotted (I’d love to include it, but I refuse to let it take up your whole screen and I’m giving up on trying to reduce its size after 15 minutes of fruitless labor.) It must have been put in place a couple of years ago, after they added some height to one of the “peaks” and created a couple of new named slopes.

It reads:

Moose Pass Summit
Ele 1180
CAUTION
Avalanche Danger

Buck Hill isn’t Keystone, Vail, or Jackson Hole it isn’t. On the other hand, it has done its share to introduce people to the joys of sliding. Doing laps on a 300-foot hill is better than sitting on the couch eating Cheetos.

* Not only does Buck Hill lack the vertical height to have avalanche-prone snow, but the staff grooms everything on a daily basis.

I suppose it’s time to take back, at least partly, my complaint about ski areas grooming away the powder.

My preference for powder over groomers remains. But today I got a better appreciation for the value of stomping down the powder: It keeps the base around longer.

This fact is one of those things you know in your head, but have to experience to truly appreciate.

Last week, this is what I saw:

A golf course cart path. The path is not in this case part of the ski trail, and the ski trails themselves were not melting away. Still, the visible cart path and the visible grass were both bad signs for the snowboard and ski season.

Today, the path was not visible. Nor was the grass. Areas that had lost their snow were now good off-the-path places to catch some slight (about 4 inches) powder. And the groomed slopes had an addition applied to their base.

Was I disappointed to find that the only powder available was on the extreme outside edges of the trails? Certainly. On the other hand, the packed-and-groomed new snow should now make for a better rest of the season.

Snowboarding is a physical activity, to be sure, but attitudes and thoughts can play a large role in your riding experience.

I’ve been blessed to visit some mountains with fantastic scenery, including A-Basin:

Aspen:

and Vail:

On the other hand, my local conditions aren’t nearly as spectacular. Our plunges around here are a mere 300 vertical feet, the largest of the several ski areas reports 250 acres (respectable in acreage alone, if placed in New England, but small by Rocky Mountain standards), and most of the trees that we lose their leaves in the fall. Now, a summer walk in a deciduous forest can be fun, but for winter enjoyment, evergreens are best.

But when I paid a visit to a local hill recently, I caught a hint of an evergreen forest. Not an actual forest, mind you, but enough green to set my mind thinking of grander vistas.

Here’s a photo from much earlier in the season:

The trees in the photo are not the ones that I’m talking about; they’re further down the hill and not as visually pleasing. For one thing, they’re lined up, single-file, serving as a lane marker in an otherwise wide-open space rather than elements of a true forest.

Yet somehow, their cousins further up the hill, guarding customers against a 100 foot drop-off to the parking lot below, put me in a peaceful state of mind. I would stare at one tree as I passed it by, or even just a few branches. And then I would close my eyes and imagine myself on a lift that was cut through a massive evergreen forest, not running up against a thin strand of trees.

And for a short time, it worked.

Here’s a photo, same ski area, that briefly reminded me of the west side of Aspen’s Butermilk Mountain:

Obviously, not the same experience, visually or otherwise. But for me the winter alternatives are ice fishing (too stationery), cross-country skiing (usually not enough natural snow cover) or staying inside (too fattening and unhealthy).

So if, like me, you’re faced with less than ideal conditions, exercise your imagination.

The western U.S. has the best terrain and snow, while the eastern U.S. has skiing history.

And the Midwest? It’s actually got more contributions to the industry than people think.

Mike Terrell points out that skiing got started here about the same time as it did in the eastern U.S.–in the 1930s.