Lincoln, NH – The best-laid plans do not
always go according to design. Skiers, especially eastern skiers, know this
fact intimately. Weather is no one’s friend in New England, and we all know
the best conditions in the east often match the worst it ever gets out west.
The clouds seemingly conspire to produce ill-timed storms and a recent visit
to Loon Mountain in New Hampshire’s White Mountains proved no exception.
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Like a phoenix rising in the north, however, Loon offers some
salvation from harsh conditions, like the winds that usually pummel the northeast.
My friend Joe and I realized this firsthand when the mountain took our ailing
ski trip off of life support.
We got out of the car and precipitation poured down all around
us, but we silently kindled thoughts of quality terrain.
“Damn the fog and freezing rain, we’re from New England,” we
thought. “What do we expect? Fresh tracks and sun-drenched afternoons?”
“New Hampshire native Bode Miller didn’t learn to kick ass by
skiing perfectly groomed powder. No, he learned on ice and boilerplate.”
Truthfully, the conditions were amazing good considering the
freezing rain that relentlessly pelted us with every turn down the mountain
and collected on our jackets on each trip up the Kancamangus Quad and the
North Peak Triple chairs.
AN OLD FRIEND
Former New Hampshire Governor Sherman Adams founded Loon in
the 1960s in an effort to revitalize the economy of the Lincoln area, downtrodden
as a result of the closure of mills in the area. It worked – today, Lincoln
is a busy commercial strip of hotels, motels, shops and restaurants lining
the western end of the popular Kancamagus Highway. The ski and snowboard
resort alone attracts some 340,000 visits per year. Loon is now part of the
Booth Creek Ski Holdings family that includes neighboring Waterville Valley
and Cranmore, both in New Hampshire sharing Booth Creek’s annual Threedom
Pass with Loon, as well as other holdings throughout the western United States.
Joe and I had visited Loon before, and its narrow trails and
glades greeted us like an old friend. I had first skied the popular mountain
in shorts and a Hawaiian shirt one Easter Monday back in college. It was among
the best days of my life. Not just of my life on skis, but of the whole thing,
the sum total of all my days on earth.
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Click on image to open a full-size trail map in a new |
Joe, on the other hand, raced at Loon during his stint on the
Worcester Polytechnic Institute ski team. He knew some of the mountain, but
spend the majority of his time on Upper Rumrunner, probably the most aptly-named
collegiate racecourse in America.
On our first run, I led him onto Upper Flying Fox and down to
Crosscut. Somehow, those trails have always been free of skiers, even when
other trails are filled with more yahoos than snowflakes. Joe made crisp turns
on his Rossignols, displaying the form that makes him the best skier I’ve
ever had the privilege to carve next to. Much like a natural roller coaster,
the two trails form a series of turns and drops in the great New England tradition,
where frugality is a virtue and everything is built to expand scant resources.
The trails hug the mountain, allowing for the maximum pitch and a number of
small, sharp drops interspersed between flatter sections.
“I’m surprised the trail is in such good shape,” Joe smiled.
“I know, and I can’t wait to try out everything,” I replied,
thinking all the terrain was a welcome invite.
We then headed over to the North Peak, where my “anything open
is ok” theory was sorely tested. Loon doesn’t offer up anything an expert
skier can’t handle, but does provide some challenging steeps, especially along
the North Peak.
Usually, those trails are in good shape, but the freezing rain
made Upper Flume absolutely bulletproof. Patches of skiable terrain were quickly
consumed by ungroomed crust a half inch thick, which made any sort of consistency
a pipe dream.
We used the escape valve, usually reserved for beginners who
thought they could handle the pitch, and entered Lower Walking Boss eager
for some smoother terrain. We eventually ended up on Brookway, a very flat
green trail that dumps back in front of the main lodge and the gondola. It’s
a nice cruiser, pure and simple: good enough for the novice or the grandmother
who is more concerned with the view than her turns. However, since the trail
winds through the woods and across a stream, it makes for some interesting
tuck runs when no one else is around.
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Loon’s trails include some gladed terrain. |
The weather forced us into the gondola for most of the remaining
day, and often Joe and I divided up in the singles line—which is perhaps the
best-known secret in all of skiing. Too many people are reluctant to split
up at the lifts even though doing so gets them up the mountain twice as fast.
I can see avoiding the singles line if you’re on a date with
a gorgeous member of the opposite sex. In that situation it makes no sense
to go up alone. In fact, it would be downright stupid. I love skiing like
the air I breathe, but even I would trade a couple runs for an opportunity
to share a cozy gondola cabin. True love aside, the singles line is the greatest
scam since New Coke, and who doesn’t like meeting knew and interesting people?
I met a group of foreign skiers on my first trip up. For all my great interpretive
skills they spoke Russian, but I don’t rule out Dutch, Hungarian, Polish,
Norwegian, or any of a handful of other languages that I unfortunately don’t
have a clue about.
However, it wasn’t their speech that first tipped me off that
they weren’t from the United States. The moment the trio entered the cabin,
it was filled with the pungent smell of cologne. The smell could have revived
a dead horse, which is not to say that cologne isn’t preferable to the lovely
American aroma of sweaty ski gear and last night’s cocktails that usually
fill a gondola. It is just different, since few American men would ever contemplate
putting on deodorant to go skiing, let alone cologne.
I closed my eyes, listened to the foreign conversation and soaked
up my fair share of their after-shave. I could have been in Europe for all
I knew and I loved it. I unfortunately didn’t get to thank my fellow passengers
for unwittingly bettering my day, but I did congratulate myself for scamming
the singles line.
Joe and I eventually made it to Rumrunner, which is a fairly
straightforward race trail. Steep and more wide-open than other trails at
Loon, Rumrunner provides skiers with a great chance to crank some GS turns
and do their best Alberto Tomba impersonations.
“Let’s try it over here,” Joe later urged, pointing his ski
tips toward Loon’s terrain and snowboard park.
“I’ll follow you,” I replied, knowing that the park could easily
turn into a circus for me. I’ve never been a huge jump aficionado, preferring
to search for that ever-elusive perfect turn, but I’ve also never avoided
a friendly challenge.
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Loon is well-known for intermediate corduroy. |
Joe entered the park first and quick turned his way down the
right edge. I followed close behind and viewed the large mounds that dotted
the center of the trail like whale humps.
Snowboarders clearly controlled the slopes here and they moved
about with ease, landing jumps as if it was the X Games trials. We tried our
own hand at it, but after Joe went yard sale on one jump we headed to the
halfpipe.
To be honest, as a skier, I am fascinated with halfpipes. I
love the sensation of rocking side to side, gaining momentum in each turn,
and I love the fact that if one move doesn’t work you are immediately faced
with another opportunity to rectify it. Loon’s pipe provides many such chances.
Roughly 50 yards long, the halfpipe rises several snowboarders-high on each
side. It’s a perfect height, though the incline could have been sharper in
some areas.
Neither of us fell on our two trips through and after a few
more runs we rewarded ourselves with a much-needed trip to the lodge. The
snow held up very well, especially on blue cruisers like Blue Ox and Lower
Picked Rock, which line the mountain’s face. But heavy rain developed and
I was beginning to swim in my gloves while Joe’s pants had lost the requisite
ability to repel any more water. We decided to pack it in for the afternoon.
Sitting in the lodge amid our wet outer layers, Loon had won
us over once again, which is a real testament considering that the day’s weather
was so fierce that New Hampshire’s nearby “Old Man of the Mountains” never
bothered peeking his head out.
“I’m so glad we went skiing today,” I remarked.
“All things considered, everything was great,” he replied.
CHANGES AFOOT
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Loon’s trails rise above the Pemigewasset River. |
Already the busiest ski area in New Hampshire, Loon has actively
sought to increase its capacity for quite some time. Following a protracted
15-year battle wherein Loon was pitted against the U.S. Forest Service and
various environmental groups including the Conservation Law Foundation, the
Society for the Protection of New Hampshire Forests, the Wilderness Society
of New England and the Audubon Society of New Hampshire, the Forest Service
announced in March 2002 that it has finally granted approval to the latest
incarnation of Loon’s South Mountain expansion proposal. The expansion will
increase the resort’s skiable acreage from 275 to 382, and increase daily
skier and snowboarder capacity from 6,100 to 9,000, still somewhat less than
the 15,000-person capacity originally sought by Loon Mountain.
The expansion will take the form of 12 new trails, three new
high-speed lifts, a third base lodge at South Mountain and additional parking.
Plans also call for the upgrade of several existing lifts to new ones with
higher line speeds and greater capacities. While earlier proposals to draw
snowmaking water from Loon Pond and the Pemigewasset River were defeated,
following appeals that reached the U.S. District First Circuit Court of Appeals,
the approved expansion allows the resort to feed a snowmaking system with
water from a sand pit on the west side of I-93 that was originally excavated
to supply the construction of the interstate.
Current criticisms of Loon float from advanced ski and snowboard
enthusiasts frustrated by the abundance of intermediate terrain and paucity
of expert runs. Resort officials, however, have touted the South Mountain
expansion as the solution to this deficiency.
The March announcement by the Forest Service begins a 90-day
appeal period, so it is unlikely that any construction will take place in
time to add facilities for the 2002-2003 ski and snowboard season, although
the public comment period for the approved plan during the spring of 2001
elicited little opposition. Early in the approval discussions, Loon fueled
the flames of discontent by carving several trails on South Mountain before
the project was approved. Such trails may be cleaned up and made available
for snowcat access by 2002-2003, according to Loon’s Director of Environmental
and Governmental Relations, Ted Sutton.
IF YOU GO …Lodging: The Grub: Among many area eateries, Activities: Families aren’t
Loon’s tubing hill lies |
