Photos by Scott Murphy

Snowshoe Mt., WV (January, 2001) – We drove for hours in the pitch dark.
Past gas stations and mobile homes and shuttered barbecue joints. Up corkscrew
mountain curves and through national forests, Orion burning brighter on the
horizon with each mile into the middle of nowhere we pushed. Was this going
to be worth it, my husband and I groaned as the highway sign announced Snowshoe
Mountain was yet another 90 minutes off. We were still going to be skiing in
the South, after all. If what we wanted was a little hill and a dusting of man-made
snow, we could be at any number of smaller resorts in half the time. How much
better could it be all these winding miles away?

n

A ski village on the mountain top. Intrawest is building a $100 million Village at Snowshoe. Highland House, the mountain’s newest lodge, opened this season.

Finally, we began our chug to the top of the mountain. We pulled into the parking
lot and headed for the check-in center. Through the cherry and glass doors,
across a stone floor, past the rustic timber beams, the welcome desk was positively
posh. A cozy couch beckoned just beyond. Down the hallway, a fire flickered
behind an artful brick hearth. “Wow.” My eyes took in a scene worthy of Vermont
or Colorado. “This is really nice.”

It turned out these weren’t just first impressions, either. I had several
more catch-my-breath moments during my three-day visit to this 26-year-old resort
that has been undergoing a serious renaissance. If what you remember of Snowshoe
is boxy, utilitarian accommodations, crowded runs and cafeteria food, it’s time
to visit this resort again. Sure, the no-frill rooms, the crowds and the cafeterias
are still there. But so is much more. New trails, more snow-making, faster lifts,
fine dining and plenty to do even if someone in your party doesn’t ski or snowboard.
Snowshoe mountain, it’s safe to say, is finally living up to the potential old
Doc Brigham saw in it all those years ago.

Brigham was something of a Sugar Daddy for skiing in the South. A dentist by
trade, he first developed the Beech and Sugar mountain resorts in North Carolina
in the early ’70s. Then, when he was ready to set his sights on someplace new,
he began taking the entire region’s temperature. He was looking for signs of
cold weather: high snow fall, the presence of fir trees and the southernmost
native habitat of the snowshoe rabbit.

The sun rises over Snowshoe mountain. In the midst of a major renovation, Snowshoe offers 57 runs, first-class accommodations and dining and nearly anything else you could want from a mountain vacation.

He found all three in a patch of logging country smack in the middle of West
Virginia. And he snatched them up faster than you can schuss the 1,500 feet
of vertical drop at one of the resort’s first — and still best — trails. The
trail is Cupp Run, designed by 1968 Olympic downhill winner Jean Claude Killy,
and its gently curving, always surprising, sometimes steep, sometimes sloping
layout is arguably the best trail at any southern ski resort.

But despite this flash of brilliance and the conducive weather conditions,
Brigham was forced to sell in the early ’80s. The next decade was not kind to
Snowshoe mountain. The resort suffered through a series of owners and bankruptcies.
It was still attracting skiers, still offering basic services, but not growing
or updating or getting the word out. That began changing, slowly at first, in
the early ’90s. The owners, then a Japanese broadcast company, purchased the
Silver Creek resort just down the road, bumping the resort’s total acreage to
11,000. They began making the mountain a year-round destination and opened a
golf course at the base in 1993. Then, ski-resort mogul Intrawest entered the
picture when they purchased Snowshoe in October 1995.

The years since have been a gust of change, of building, of improving. In 1996
came the first high-speed quad; in 1998, a second one and the resort’s first
(and so far only) double-black diamond run, Shay’s Revenge. In 2000, a major
overhaul of the ski village. In 2001, further development of a new beginner-trails
area called The Northern Tract. The upgrades in everything from snow-making
to bed-making have been positively dizzying. At today’s Snowshoe, you can power
down 57 slopes, kick back for a beer in one of the resort’s four bars, head
for a soak in the jacuzzi, clean up for a dinner of quail, polenta and foccacia
and then regroup for a moonlight snowmobile tour. Now that’s a mountain vacation.

On our first morning, a Friday, we waited with the other eager beavers for
the rope barring skiers from the slopes to be lifted. And at 8:30, we were off,
cutting and hooting in a race to the bottom. Since the resort is at the top
of the mountain, there’s no starting the day in a line. First thing, you’re
skiing. It’s tough to remember you’ve got to take a lift home at the end of
the day, but the mountain’s upside-down orientation makes for a great morning
start. This mid-December day was bright and crisp, some natural snowfall over
the previous weeks and lower-than-regular-temperatures meant conditions were
just about perfect: great cover, nearly all the trails open, every surface meticulously
groomed. We made our way over to the Ball Hooter lift, where I again found myself
amazed at what we happened upon. Knot Bumper to Glades was a great little run,
the tight and moguly Knot Bumper forcing quick turns and Glades offering a taste
of skiing in the trees (albeit a short one) that I wasn’t expecting.

Later in the day, we ventured over to Grab Hammer, which became one of our
favorite runs. We’d come off the Ball Hooter lift and stayed to the far left
where a few forgiving bumps had formed, then down Grab Hammer’s steep drop,
into the sloping narrows of Skip Jack and back up again. It wasn’t long, though,
before we stepped out of our skis, crossed the street and took in the wonders
of Cupp Run. Shay’s Revenge wasn’t open this early in the season but I can imagine
that when it and Cupp are, there would be little to entice me out of the Western
Territory. Cupp is a brilliant 1.5 miles that even when over-skied and just
beginning to get slushy (we experienced some of this the next day) can be a
joy. The trail’s wooded edges offer a powder-like feeling even when no new snow
has fallen. And the bottom of the run is wide-open enough to let you play in
the trees, sail over a jump or bolt like lightening to the lift. If only there
were more runs like this.

Saturday brought the expected crowds and the lift lines that go with them.
I heard a fair amount of grousing in line but personally didn’t wait more than
10 minutes for any lift. And there is a way to avoid the crowds. The Silver
Creek ski area is a quick car or bus ride away. Yet here, there are almost no
skiers. There’s a boarder park that looks like loads of fun (neither me nor
the hubby snowboard). The feats these kids accomplish are mind-blowing — and
fun to watch as you ride up the lift. No, Silver Creek isn’t as big and no,
there’s nothing that comes close to Cupp Run here. But if you’re tired of the
Cupp and sick of the crowds, the Bear Claw, Fox Chase and Cascade runs (Flying
Eagle wasn’t open when we were there) are great alternatives to the Snowshoe
area’s blues and blacks. Best part: You’ll have them all to yourself.

Then, on Sunday, something magical happened: It snowed. It started early and
kept on through the afternoon. This wasn’t a whiteout that totally changed the
conditions but it was a nice reminder that it’s not all man-made stuff out here.
And it did a heck-of-a-job of adding cover to some trails that had seen damage
over a busy and warm Saturday. As my hair froze and whitened and my gloves fought
the dampness, all I could think was, “I guess Doc Brigham really did know what
he was doing.”

But ski resorts are not just for skiing and boarding (and keeping warm and
eating) anymore. All the top ones these days have snowmobiling, dog-sledding,
cross-country skiing and shopping. Snowshoe is no exception. They offer all
those activities plus a back-country hut, horse-drawn sleigh rides, snowshoeing
trails and tubing (for those who want to relive their neighborhood sledding
days, but on steroids). Personally, I was dying to go dog-sledding. How cool
would that be: bundled up against the mountain air, dogs taking you over terrain
that skis couldn’t. Suffice it say we were bummed when told the woman the resort
contracts out with had canceled. How much this happens, I don’t know. But if
you get to go dog-sledding, let me know how it is!

Instead, we went snowmobiling. It was my first foray in the world of motorized
’biles or cycles of any kind. And I have to say it was a rush, especially charging
uphill, something I’ve always wished I could do in my skis. Plus the moon was
shining, it was a trip to see the Snowcats bustling up and down the mountain
and my husband even caught sight of a deer. Where the tour was a disappointment
was in the ground that was covered. We went up and down the same hills I had
skied earlier that day. Granted it was night and granted we were using a new
medium. But I think tools like snowmobiles should take you places you couldn’t
otherwise go. At this stage of the game, anyway, Snowshoe’s not doing that.

But if you ask me, would I spend another three-day weekend at Snowshoe? My
answer is: Absolutely. If you ask me, would I recommend the mountain to anyone
living east of Colorado and south of New York? Again: Without a doubt. And if
you ask me, is the skiing at Snowshoe worth that long and winding drive? I say:
Yes, a thousand times, yes. Stacked up against other resorts in the South, there’s
no comparison.