
Free Daily Podcast Summary
by Stuart Winchester
Everyone’s searching for skiing’s soul. I’m trying to find its brains.
The most recent episodes — sign up to get AI-powered summaries of each one.
The Storm Skiing Journal and Podcast still has a podcast. Get new episodes the moment they’re live by subscribing to the email newsletter:WhoJohn Kelly, CEO of Taos Ski Valley, New MexicoRecorded onNovember 13, 2025About Taos Ski ValleyClick here for a mountain stats overviewOwned by: Louis Bacon (since December 2013)Located in: Taos Ski Valley, New MexicoYear founded: 1955Pass affiliations:* Ikon Pass – 7 days, no blackouts* Ikon Base Pass – 5 days, holiday blackouts* Ikon Session Pass – 1-4 days, holiday blackouts* Mountain Collective – 2 days, no blackouts* Ski New Mexico True Pass – 2 days, holiday blackoutsBase elevation: 9,350 feetSummit elevation: 12,450 feet lift-served, 12,481 hike-toVertical drop: 3,100 feet lift-served, 3,131 hike-to.Skiable acres: 1,294 (some hike-to)Average annual snowfall: 300 inches claimed on website; calculated 36-year average using data sourced from Taos’ 2010 master development plan, Ski New Mexico tallies, and media reports is 233 inches. The 10-year average falls to 166 inches. Here’s the year-by-year breakdown:Trail count: 110 (24% beginner, 25% intermediate, 51% expert)Lift count: 13 (1 pulse gondola, 2 high-speed quads, 2 fixed-grip quads, 4 triples, 1 double, 3 carpets)Why I interviewed himLet’s start with a superficially troubling number: Taos’ long, steady decline in average annual skier visits:That doesn’t look so good, especially when laid alongside the long-term increase in national skier visits:Taos not only declined in the context of national skier visits, but also among its peers. In winter 1983-84, Taos drew more skiers (241,000) than Telluride (132,460), Big Sky (136,000), Jackson Hole (177,000), Whitefish (I’m lacking an estimate for that winter, but the ski area then known as “Big Mountain” logged 209,000 skiers in 1980-81 and 170,581 in 1985-86). Taos (dark blue line below), continued to out-duel this group through about the mid-90s before falling off a cliff:So what happened? 1995 Taos, a freeride mecca before freeride was cool, should have been perfectly suited to flourish in a cultural moment when skiers began demanding more interesting terrain than the groomed superhighways that had become the industry’s default setting. Sure, Taos was remote and a bit harder to access than, say, Keystone or Park City, but so were Jackson and Whitefish and Big Sky and Telluride. A partial explanation: Taos stopped modernizing. After replacing the Lift 2 double with a fixed-grip quad in 1994, Taos didn’t install another new chairlift for 19 years. The first detachable didn’t arrive until 2018. The resort banned snowboards until 2008. Meanwhile, Big Sky laced a tram to the summit of Lone Peak in 1995 and started pushing detachable quads up the mountain; the first high-speed quads arrived at Telluride in 1986 and Whitefish in 1989.It’s not a perfect narrative – while Jackson Hole rolled out its short Sublette detach in the mid-90s, the mountain didn’t install an upper-mountain high-speed chairlift until Casper in 2012. Skier visits went up and up and up all that time, probably due in large part to aggressive improvements at the Jackson Hole airport.Maybe, though, it’s as simple as this: banger snow years descended upon Taos – and New Mexico in general – from the late ‘80s through mid-‘90s. It’s little surprise that attendance ups-and-downs largely mirror snowfall patterns:But, as the corresponding trendlines show, Taos’ skier visits have not declined at the same rate as the mountain’s average annual snowfall. And while Jackson’s long-term average snowfall has remained relatively constant, attendance has crept steadily upward. Attendance spiked at both mountains when the 2018-19 season brought both plentiful snow and the introduction of the Ikon Pass:Unfortunately, Taos stopped reporting skier visits after the Covid-shortened 2019-20 season, so we have less concrete insight into whether the mountain’s recent investments in a reconfigured beginner area and a second detachable on the backside have insulated it from two historically poor snow years. This is why it’s nice to have basic visitation data, and why I’m pushing the ski industry to again publicize annual attendance for ski areas occupying public lands (since going live with a <a target="_blank" href="https://www.stormskiing.com/p/here-is-2406-years-of-us-skier-vis
WhoDan Skelton, President and Chief Operating Officer of Blue Mountain, OntarioRecorded onJune 26, 2025About Blue Mountain, OntarioClick here for a mountain stats overviewOwned by: Alterra Mountain CompanyLocated in: The Blue Mountains, Ontario, CanadaYear founded: 1941Pass affiliations: Unlimited on Ikon and Ikon BaseBase elevation: 229 feet/750 metersSummit elevation: 1,480 feet/451 metersVertical drop: 730 feet/223 metersSkiable acres: 364 acres/147 hectaresAverage annual snowfall: 154 inches/391 centimetersTrail count: 43Lift count: 11 (5 six-packs, 1 fixed-grip quad, 1 triple, 4 carpets – view Lift Blog’s inventory of Blue Mountain, Ontario’s lift fleet)Why I interviewed him: A Very Dumb Story About a Very Dumb Person, Volume IIn the winter of 1995-96, I developed Vertical Fever, a syndrome in which the afflicted believes, in a way that is beyond reason and immune from contrary arguments, that the skiing will be better if the ski hill is taller.This was a problem. Because in 1995, I lived, as I had all my life up to that point, in Michigan. Specifically, Sanford, a flat town in a flat county in what may be the flattest region of the country, the Tri-Cities area of Michigan’s Lower Peninsula. Fortunately for a skier, Michigan is cold and full of ski areas. Unfortunately, these ski areas are small or short or both. The tallest of the 33 ski areas inventoried on the 1995 Michigan Downhill Skiing Guide is Boyne Highlands, which then and today promotes a probably made-up vertical drop of 550 feet. Right across the street was 427-vertical-foot Nub’s Nob, one of six Lower Peninsula ski areas to exceed 400 vertical, along with Caberfae (485 feet), Shanty Creek Schuss Mountain (450 feet), Sugar Loaf (500 feet), and Boyne Mountain (495 feet).I’d skied all of these and I’d skied them all many times since my first real ski season, which was the previous winter, 1994-95. But once I’d stopped summersaulting down the hill and learned to carve and to land jumps, I grew bored. Skiing in 1995 was not like skiing in 2026. Terrain parks were rare and, anyway, off limits to skiers. Jumping was forbidden. There were signs all over saying so. Everything was groomed and everything was about carving turns, even though grooming was inconsistent and the shaped skis that would transform the average skier into a carver were years away from mass market distribution.So I scoured maps and guidebooks for ski areas of any size in any direction that I could reasonably drive to. To the south lay Ohio and Indiana. Useless. To the north, at the far western end of the Upper Peninsula, lay several 600-ish footers (Mount Bohemia did not open until 2000), but Michigan is a deceptively large state made larger by the inconvenience of driving around gigantic lakes – those UP ski areas were 10 hours away. But also to the north, east instead of west and just over the Canadian border, lay Searchmont: 750 vertical feet of ungladed bananas skiing, with little cliffs and rocks and glades all over. It was a glorious real-life validation of the less-stuffy Canadian ski-area management culture that I’d read about in Skiing and Powder. And it was only a four-hour drive each way, an easy daytrip on the cruise-control-empty interstates of northern Michigan. This is what a Canadian 700-plus-footer is like, I decided, and I searched for more of them.That’s when I became obsessed with Blue Mountain, this mysterious guidebook mapdot floating south of Lake Huron. Stat-line, as listed in contemporary guide books: 720 vertical feet, 13 chairlifts and two T-bars, 920 skiable acres (this was, um, not accurate). A Midwest hack, a backdoor to a secret mini-New England unknown to Michiganders. As with Searchmont, I would rise at 4 and arrive by lifts-on and soar all day among the woodsy wide-open drop-step terrain of Ontario yahoo skiing.Yeah it didn’t work out like that. The first time I tried to drive to Blue Mountain, I wound up at Mount Brighton, 273 miles away in Southeast Michigan. A blizzard had forced course correction to a more achievable destination. But the second time, I made it. Here’s how it went, per a journal entry I wrote few days later:Monday, March 25th, 1996 – 11:53 p.m.Let’s just call Friday the day that didn’t quite flow. In fact, it didn’t flow like
WhoTim Smith, President and General Manager of Waterville Valley, New HampshireRecorded onNovember 12, 2025About Waterville ValleyClick here for a mountain stats overviewOwned by: The Sununu FamilyLocated in: Waterville Valley, New HampshireYear founded: 1966Pass affiliations:* Indy Pass, Indy+ Pass: 2 days, no blackouts* White Mountain Super Pass: unlimited, no blackouts* Indy Learn-to-Turn: 3 days, includes rentals, lesson, lift ticket; limited lift access* Ski New Hampshire Kids Passport: 1 day with holiday blackouts* Uphill New England: no lift accessBase elevation: 1,984 feet (highest in New Hampshire, 3rd in New England)Summit elevation: 4,004 feet (2nd-highest in New Hampshire, 5th in New England)Vertical drop: 2,020 feet (4th-highest in New Hampshire, 14th in New England)Skiable acres: 265Average annual snowfall: 148 inchesTrail count: 62 (14% novice, 64% intermediate, 22% advanced)Lift count: 10 (1 six-pack, 1 high-speed quad, 2 triples, 2 doubles, 2 T-bars, 2 carpets)Why I interviewed himWell no one wants to hear this but we got to $300 lift tickets the same way we got to $80,000 pickup trucks. We’re Americans Goddamnit and we just can’t do stickshifts and we sure as s**t ain’t standin’ up on our skis to ride back up the mountain. It’s pure agony you see. We need us a nine-pack chairlift with a bubble and a breakroom and a minibar and surround sound and Lazy-Boy seats and hell no we ain’t ridin’ it with eight strangers we’ll hold back and take a whole chair to our ownselves. And it needs to move fast, Son. Like embarrass-the-Concord fast because God help us we spend more than 90 seconds with our own thoughts.I’m not aiming to get kicked out of America here, but if I may submit a few requests regarding our self-inflicted false price floors. I would like the option of purchasing a brand-new car with a manual transmission and windows rolled up and down with a hand-crank. I would like to keep pedaling my bicycle. I would like to cut the number of holidays with commercial mandates by 80 percent. I would prefer that we not set the air-conditioners to 60 when it’s 65 degrees outside. This doesn’t mean I want to get rid of all the air-conditioners but could we maybe take it easy on the frostbite-in-July overkill of it all?My Heretic Wishlist for American Skiing includes but is not limited to: more surface lifts, especially to serve terrain parks, high-altitude exposed terrain, and expert pods; on-resort lodging that does not still require a commute-by-personal-vehicle to reach the lifts; and thoughtful terrain management that retains ungroomed sections for skiers who like things about skiing other than going fast.Waterville Valley is doing all of these things. It is perhaps the only major American ski area in decades to replace a chairlift with a surface lift on a non-beginner terrain pod, and the only one to build two new T-bars this century. A planned gondola would connect Waterville Valley the town with Waterville Valley the ski area, correcting an only-in-America setup that separates these inseparable places by two miles of road. The glade network grows annually in both subtle and obvious ways.This is not a ski area going in reverse. Waterville is modern and keeps modernizing. The four-year-old Tecumseh bubble six-pack, though bookended with T-bars, is one of the nicest chairlifts in America. Skiers still go groomer-kaboom on morning cord. Suburban office-park dads with interstate commutes and a habit of lecturing the Facebook Commons about the virtues of snow tires can still park their 42-wheel-drive Abrams-Caterpillar-F-15,000 Tanktruck in sub-parking lot 42Z and walk uphill to the lifts. But Waterville Valley is one of a handful of American ski areas, along with Killington and <a target="_blan
WhoSusan Cross, Vice President of Operations at Aspen Skiing Company (and former Mountain Manager of Snowmass)Recorded onNovember 14, 2025 - which was well before I traveled to Snowmass and chased Cross around a bit in the pow. There she is tiny in the distance:About Aspen Skiing CompanyAspen Skiing Company (Skico) is part of something called Aspen One. Don’t ask me what that is because even though they rolled it out two years ago I still have no idea what they’re talking about. All I know or care about is that they own four ski areas and here is what I know about them:Don’t be fooled by the scale of the map above - at 3,342 acres, Snowmass is larger than Aspen Mountain, Buttermilk, and Aspen Highlands combined. The monster 4,400-foot vert means these lifts are massively shrunken to fit the map - Snowmass operates three of the 10 longest chairlifts in America, and seven chairlifts over one mile long:You can’t ski or ride a lift between the four mountains, but free shuttles connect them all. Aspen Mountain, Highlands, and Buttermilk are all bunched together near town, and Snowmass is a short drive (15 to 20 minutes if traffic is clear and dependent upon which base area you want to hit):Why I interviewed herAmerican ski areas will often re-use chairlifts or snowcats that other operators have outgrown. Aspen Mountain re-used a whole town.In 1879, Aspen the city didn’t exist, and by 1890 more than 5,000 people lived there. They came for silver, not snow. In less than a decade they laid out the Victorian street grid of brick and wood-framed buildings using hand tools and horses, with the Roaring Fork River as their supply road.Aspen’s population collapsed in the economic depressions of the 1890s and didn’t rebound to 5,000 for 100 years. The 1940 Census counted 777 residents. That was 16 years before the first chairlift rose up Ajax, a perfect ski mountain above an intact but semi-abandoned town made pointless by history.It was an amazing coincidence, really. Americans would never build a ski town on purpose. That’s where the parking lots go. But hey it all worked out: Aspen evolved into a ski town that offset its European walk-to-the-chairlifts sensibility with a hard-coded American refusal to expand the historic street grid in favor of protectionism and mansion-building. The contemporary result is one of the world’s most expensive real estate markets cosplaying as a quaint ski town, a lively and walkable mixed-use community of the sort that we idealize but refuse to build more of. Aspen’s population is now around 7,000, most of whom live there by benefit of longevity, subsidy, inheritance, or extreme wealth. The city’s median household income is just over $50,000. The median home price is $9.5 million. Anyone clinging to the illusion that Aspen is an actual ski town should consider that it took 25 years to approve and build the Hero’s chairlift. Imagine what the fellows who built this whole city in half a decade without the benefit of electricity or cement trucks or paved roads would make of that.The illusory city, however, is a dynamic separate from the skiing. Aspen, despite its somewhat dated lift fleet, remains one of America’s best small ski mountains. But it is small, and, with no green terrain and barely any blues, the ski area lacks the substance and scale to draw tourists west of Summit County and Vail.Sister mountain Snowmass does that. And while Snowmass did not benefit from an already-built town at its base, it did benefit from not having one, in that the mountain could evolve with a purpose and speed that Ajax, boxed in by geography and politics, never could. Snowmass has built 13 new aerial lifts this century, including the two-station, mountain-redefining Elk Camp Gondola; the Village Express six-pack, which is the fourth-longest chairlift in America; and, in just the past two years, a considerably lengthened Coney high-speed quad and a new six-pack to replace the Elk Camp chairlift.I’ve focused on Aspen’s story a bit over the years (including this 2021 podcast with former Skico CEO Mike Kaplan), but probably not enough. The four Aspen mountains are some of the most important in American skiing, even if visitation doesn’t quite match their status as skiing word-association champion among non-skiers (more on that below). Aspen, a leader not just in skiing but in housing, the environment, and culture, carries narrative heft, and the company’s status as favored property of Alterra part-owner Henry Crown hints at deeper influence than Skico likely takes c
WhoShaun Sutner, snowsports columnist for the Worcester Telegram & Gazette and Telegram.comRecorded onNovember 24, 2025Why I interviewed himHey Man, we do this every year:What we talked aboutThe psychology of injury recovery; the power of being there; the “gladiatorial atmosphere” of ski racing; the East’s strong winter; a Canadian facepalm; the Black Mountain, New Hampshire co-op; Hermon Mountain, Maine for sale; how to make a crappy old ski area into a modern-seeming ski area without big infrastructure upgrades; is every ski area closing a tragedy?; Lost Valley, Maine; lost Berkshires ski areas that make great backcountry ski spots; new owners at Ragged, New Hampshire; Magic Mountain, Vermont and the four-year lift installation; would Vail Resorts purchase Smugglers’ Notch, Vermont?; assessing Killington’s independent owners one year in; the Super Star six-pack upgrade at Killington; is it worth buying a new lift if it doesn’t improve capacity?; why Loveland, Colorado’s only detachable lift is also one of its shortest; expectations and potential from Berkshire East buying Burke, Vermont; is the demise of the good ol’ boy overstated?; Wachusett’s new six-pack; locals hate everything; priorities for New England lift upgrades; will Cannon ever replace its decommissioned tram (and should it be with a gondola)?; should New Hampshire lease out Cannon?; Whaleback’s chairlift woes; thoughts on the Boston Ski Show moving to Connecticut; and BOA boot buckles.What I got wrongMost of these aren’t “wrong,” so much as outdated:* We recorded this as Sutner was still recovering from an injury, and he said he wouldn’t be able to get back to skiing until, um, February. Which is now I guess.* We talked about the “budding winter,” which started strong in November, but has kept banging away to be one of the best ski seasons in recent New England history.* We discuss since-resolved drama at Black Mountain around a withheld liquor license for the mid-mountain champagne shack.* Sutner didn’t get this wrong – he was prescient, however, in saying Pacific Group Resorts would do something “big” after selling Ragged – the company purchased Silver Star, British Columbia shortly after we spoke:Then there were these:* I didn’t really understand the point of Hermon Mountain, but between recording and releasing this episode, I was able to visit it. Stand by for that write-up, which helped me understand it as a teen holding pen for Bangor Maine.* I said that Pacific Group Resorts “may have” purchased Powderhorn after its Flat Top Flyer high-speed quad installation – that is the case; the lift arrived in 2015, and PGR bought the ski area in 2018.* Sure enough, Burke joined the Berkshire Summit Pass - a season pass for sister resorts Berkshire East and Catamount, as well as Bousquet. Here are the details:I said the Mohegan Sun Arena held 6,000 to 8,000 people – it’s about 8,000 for basketball games, which is what I was referring to.Podcast NotesOn the closing of Four Seasons ski area in New YorkOn the new owners at Ragged and KillingtonOn Geoff Hatheway at Magic Mountain, VermontMy pods with Geoff are both a bit dated, but you can keep up with Magic by subscribing to Hatheway’s Alpine Update emails, which is one of the most transparently honest ski area newsletters in America.On Wachusett’s Clueless Construction UpdatesWell done, Stimpson:On other pods mentionedThe Storm explores the world of lift-served skiing year-round. Join us. Get full access to The Storm Skiing Journal and Podcast at www.stormskiing.com/subscribe
WhoJimmy Ackerson, General Manager of Corralco, ChileRecorded onJuly 24, 2025About CorralcoClick here for a mountain stats overviewLocated in: Curacautín, Araucanía, ChileYear founded: 2003, by Enrique BascurPass affiliations: Indy Pass, Indy+ Pass – 2 days, no blackoutsBase elevation: 4,724 feet (1,440 meters)Summit elevation: 7,874 feet (2,400 meters) top of lifts; 9,400 feet (2,865 meters) hike-toVertical drop: 3,150 feet (960 meters) lift-served; 4,676 feet (1,425 meters) hike-toSkiable acres: 2,475 acres lift served; 4,448 acres (1,800 hectares), including hike-to terrainAverage annual snowfall: 354 inches (899 cm)Trail count: 34Lift count: 7 (1 high-speed quad, 1 double, 5 J-bars)Why I interviewed himThe Andes run the length of South America, 4,300 miles from the southern tip of Argentina north to Venezuela. It is the longest continental mountain range on Earth, nearly six times the length of the Alps and 1,300 miles longer than the Rockies. It is the highest mountain range outside of Asia, topping out at 22,841 feet on Mount Aconcagua, more than a mile higher than the tallest point in the Rockies (14,439-foot Mount Elbert) or Alps (15,772-foot Mont Blanc).So this ought to be one hell of a ski region, right? If the Alps house more than 500 ski areas and the Rockies several hundred, then the Andes ought to at least be in the triple digits?Surprisingly, no. Of the seven nations transected by the Andes, only Argentina and Chile host outdoor, lift-served ski areas. Between the two countries, I’m only able to assemble a list of 37 ski areas, 33 of which skiresort.info categorizes as “temporarily closed” – a designation the site typically reserves for outfits that have not operated over the past several seasons.For skiers hoping to live eternal winter by commuting to the Upside Down each May through October, this roster may be a bit of a record scratch. There just aren’t that many ski areas in the Southern Hemisphere. Outside of South America, the balance – another few dozen total - sit in Australia and New Zealand, with scattered novelties such as Afriski lodged at the top of Lesotho. There are probably more ski areas in New England than there are south of the equator.That explains why the U.S.-based multimountain ski passes have been slow to move into the Southern Hemisphere – there isn’t much there to move into. Ikon and Mountain Collective each have just one destination on the continent, and it’s the same destination: Valle Nevado. Epic offers absolutely nothing in South America.Even with few options, Vail moved south a decade ago with its purchase of Perisher, Australia’s largest ski area. That English-speaking nation was a logical first pass frontier, but the five Kangaroo resorts claimed by the Epic and Ikon passes are by far the five largest in the country, and they’re a 45-year flight from America. New Zealand is similarly remote, with more but generally less-developed ski areas, and Ikon has established a small presence there.But South America remains mostly wide open, despite its obvious appeal to North Americans: the majesty of the Andes, the novelty of summer skiing, and direct flights with no major timezone hopping required. Mountain Capital Partners has dropped anchor in Chile, purchasing Valle Nevado in 2023, neighboring La Parva the following year, and bidding for also-neighboring El Colorado in 2025 (that sale is pending regulatory review).But perhaps it’s time for a broader invasion. Last March, Indy Pass added Corralco as its first South American – and first Southern Hemisphere – ski area. That, as Ackerson and I discuss in the podcast, could be just the start of Indy’s ambitions for a continent-spanning (or at least, Argentina- and Chile-spanning) resort network.So this is a good time to start getting to know Chilean skiing. And Ackerson, longtime head of the Chilean Ski Areas Association, former leader of Chilean giants Portillo and Valle Nevado, and a Connecticut-born transplant who has been living the upside-down life for more than 50 years, is probably better su
WhoRyan Brown, Director of Golf & Ski at The Mountaintop at Grand Geneva, WisconsinRecorded onJune 17, 2025About the Mountaintop at Grand GenevaClick here for a mountain stats overviewOwned by: Marcus HotelsLocated in: Lake Geneva, WisconsinYear founded: 1968Pass affiliations: NoneClosest neighboring U.S. ski areas: Alpine Valley (:23), Wilmot Mountain (:29), Crystal Ridge (:48), Alpine Hills Adventure Park Base elevation: 847 feetSummit elevation: 962 feetVertical drop: 115 feetSkiable acres: 30Average annual snowfall: 34 inchesTrail count: 21 (41% beginner, 41% intermediate, 18% advanced)Lift count: 6 (3 doubles, 1 ropetow, 2 carpets)Why I interviewed himOf America’s various mega-regions, the Midwest is the quietest about its history. It lacks the quaint-town Colonialism and Revolutionary pride of the self-satisfied East, the cowboy wildness and adobe earthiness of the West, the defiant resentment of the Lost Glory South. Our seventh-grade Michigan History class stapled together the state’s timeline mostly as a series of French explorers passing through on their way to somewhere more interesting. They were followed by a wave of industrial loggers who mowed the primeval forests into pancakes. Then the factories showed up. And so the state’s legacy was framed not as one of political or cultural or military primacy, but of brand, the place that stamped out Chevys and Fords by the tens of millions.To understand the Midwest, then, we must look for what’s permanent. The land itself won’t do. It’s mostly soil, mostly flat. Great for farming, bad for vistas. Dirt doesn’t speak to the soul like rock, like mountains. What humans built doesn’t tell us a much better story. Everything in the Midwest feels too new to conceal ghosts. The largest cities rose late, were destroyed in turn by fires and freeways, eventually recharged with arenas and glass-walled buildings that fail to echo or honor the past. Nothing lasts: the Detroit Pistons built the Palace of Auburn Hills in 1988 and developers demolished it 32 years later; the Detroit Lions (and, for a time, the Pistons) played at the Pontiac Silverdome, a titanic, 82,600-spectator stadium that opened in 1976 and came down in 2013 (37 years old). History seemed to bypass the region, corralling the major wars to the east and shooing the natural disasters to the west and south. Even shipwrecks lose their doubloons-and-antique-cannons romance in the Midwest: the Great Lakes most famous downed vessel, the SS Edmund Fitzgerald, sank into Lake Superior in 1975. Her cargo was 26,535 tons of taconite ore pellets. A sad story, but not exactly the sinking of the Titanic.Our Midwest ancestors did leave us one legacy that no one has yet demolished: names. Place names are perhaps the best cultural relics of the various peoples who occupied this land since the glaciers retreated 12,000-ish years ago. Thousands of Midwest cities, towns, and counties carry Native American names. “Michigan” is derived from the Algonquin “Mishigamaw,” meaning “big lake”; “Minnesota” from the Sioux word meaning “cloudy water.” The legacies of French explorers and missionaries live on in “Detroit” (French for “strait”), “Marquette” (17th century French missionary Jacques Marquette), and “Eau Claire” (“clear water”).But one global immigration funnel dominated what became the modern Midwest: 50 percent of Wisconsin’s population descends from German, Nordic, or Scandinavian countries, who arrived in waves from the Colonial era through the early 1900s. The surnames are everywhere: Schmitz and Meyer and Webber and Schultz and Olson and Hanson. But these Old-Worlders came a bit late to name the cities and towns. So they named what they built instead. And they built a lot of ski areas. Ten of Wisconsin’s 34 ski areas carry names evocative of Europe’s cold regions, Scandinavia and the Alps:I wonder what it must have been like, in 18-something-or-other, to leave a place where the Alps stood high on the horizon, where your family had lived in the same stone house for centuries, and sail for God knows how many weeks or months across an ocean, and slow roll overland by oxen cart or whatever they moved about in back then, and at the end of this great journey find yourself in… Wisconsin? They would have likely been unprepared for the landscape aesthetic. Tourism is a modern invention. “The elite of ancient Egypt spent th
WhoMike Giorgio, Vice President and General Manager of Stowe Mountain, VermontRecorded onOctober 8, 2025About StoweClick here for a mountain stats overviewOwned by: Vail Resorts, which also owns:Located in: Stowe, VermontYear founded: 1934Pass affiliations:* Epic Pass: unlimited access* Epic Local Pass: unlimited access with holiday blackouts* Epic Northeast Value Pass: 10 days with holiday blackouts* Epic Northeast Midweek Pass: 5 midweek days with holiday blackouts* Access on Epic Day Pass All and 32 Resort tiers* Ski Vermont 4 Pass – up to one day, with blackouts* Ski Vermont Fifth Grade Passport – 3 days, with blackoutsClosest neighboring U.S. ski areas: Smugglers’ Notch (ski-to or 40-ish-minute drive in winter, when route 108 is closed over the notch), Bolton Valley (:45), Cochran’s (:50), Mad River Glen (:55), Sugarbush (:56)Base elevation: 1,265 feet (at Toll House double)Summit elevation: 3,625 feet (top of the gondola), 4,395 feet at top of Mt. MansfieldVertical drop: 2,360 feet lift-served, 3,130 feet hike-toSkiable acres: 485Average annual snowfall: 314 inchesTrail count: 116 (16% beginner, 55% intermediate, 29% advanced)Lift count: 12 (1 eight-passenger gondola, 1 six-passenger gondola, 1 six-pack, 3 high-speed quads, 1 fixed-grip quad, 1 triple, 2 doubles, 2 carpets)Why I interviewed himThere is no Aspen of the East, but if I had to choose an Aspen of the East, it would be Stowe. And not just because Aspen Mountain and Stowe offer a similar fierce-down, with top-to-bottom fall-line zippers and bumpy-bumps spliced by massive glade pockets. Not just because each ski area rises near the far end of densely bunched resorts that the skier must drive past to reach them. Not just because the towns are similarly insular and expensive and tucked away. Not just because the wintertime highway ends at both places, an anachronistic act of surrender to nature from a mechanized world accustomed to fencing out the seasons. And not just because each is a cultural stand-in for mechanized skiing in a brand-obsessed, half-snowy nation that hates snow and is mostly filled with non-skiers who know nothing about the activity other than the fact that it exists. Everyone knows about Aspen and Stowe even if they’ll never ski, in the same way that everyone knows about LeBron James even if they’ve never watched basketball.All of that would be sufficient to make the Stowe-is-Aspen-East argument. But the core identity parallel is one that threads all these tensions while defying their assumed outcome. Consider the remoteness of 1934 Stowe and 1947 Aspen, two mountains in the pre-snowmaking, pre-interstate era, where cutting a ski area only made sense because that’s where it snowed the most. Both grew in similar fashion. First slowly toward the summit with surface lifts and mile-long single chairs crawling up the incline. Then double chairs and gondolas and snowguns and detachable chairlifts. A ski area for the town evolves into a ski area for the world. Hotels a la luxe at the base, traffic backed up to the interstate, corporate owners and $261 lift tickets.That sounds like a formula for a ruined world. But Stowe the ski area, like Aspen Mountain the ski area, has never lost its wild soul. Even buffed out and six-pack equipped and Epic Pass-enabled, Stowe remains a hell of a mountain, one of the best in New England, one of my favorite anywhere. With its monster snowfalls, its endless and perfectly spaced glades, its never-groomed expert zones, its sprawling footprint tucked beneath the Mansfield summit, its direct access to rugged and forbidding backcountry, Stowe, perhaps the most western-like mountain in the East, remains a skier’s mountain, a fierce and humbling proving ground, an any-skier’s destination not because of its trimmings, but because of the Christmas tree itself.Still, Stowe will never be Aspen, because Stowe does not sit at 8,000 feet and Stowe does not have three accessory ski areas and Stowe the Town does not grid from the lift base like Aspen the Town but rather lies eight miles down the road. Also Stowe is owned by Vail Resorts, and can you just imagine? But in a cultural moment that assumes ski area ruination-by-the-consolidation-modernization-mega-passification axis-of-mainstreaming, Aspen and Stowe tell mirrored versions of a more nuanced story. Two ski areas, skinned in the digit
AI-powered recaps with compact key takeaways, quotes, and insights.
Get key takeaways from The Storm Skiing Journal and Podcast in a 5-minute read.
Stay current on your favorite podcasts without falling behind.
It's a free AI-powered email that summarizes new episodes of The Storm Skiing Journal and Podcast as soon as they're published. You get the key takeaways, notable quotes, and links & mentions — all in a quick read.
When a new episode drops, our AI transcribes and analyzes it, then generates a personalized summary tailored to your interests and profession. It's delivered to your inbox every morning.
No. Podzilla is an independent service that summarizes publicly available podcast content. We're not affiliated with or endorsed by Stuart Winchester.
Absolutely! The free plan covers up to 3 podcasts. Upgrade to Pro for 15, or Premium for 50. Browse our full catalog at /podcasts.
The Storm Skiing Journal and Podcast publishes biweekly. Our AI generates a summary within hours of each new episode.
The Storm Skiing Journal and Podcast covers topics including Leisure, Sports. Our AI identifies the specific themes in each episode and highlights what matters most to you.
Free forever for up to 3 podcasts. No credit card required.
Free forever for up to 3 podcasts. No credit card required.