Winter in New England

Longtime readers will remember similar issues of this email where we steer far, far away from politics, technology, and everything else modern. Usually these are timed for when I end up in Maine for some skiing. But even if you don’t ski and don’t make it up to Maine, consider putting the three links below into your reading tabs.

The first two make a nice pair: a Vermont town took its ski hill essentially out of private hands, kept it small, and resuscitated both the skill and the town. They don’t have, nor need, the expensive lifts and snowmaking and attractions that make resorts so capital-intensive and, thus, economically flimsy. They’re doing a lot with what they do have, and they don’t need tourists dollars and low-interest mortgages to make the whole thing work. They’re more flannel than Gore-Tex.

The second link is the opposite, the old way, and, perhaps, the grander vision. A somewhat rich, somewhat checkered past person named Les Otten is raising hundreds of millions of dollars to build and rebuild a giant defunct resort and ski hill. It’s a huge swing: he needs piles of investors, second home buyers, likely public subsidies, and huge resort infrastructure to attract tourists and their dollars. If he succeeds, it will truly be something to behold up there in the north country. But such places are littered with lost investments.

And that brings me to the third link. When everyone is zigging, faster lifts, multi-resort passes, ever more expensive gear, some in the ski world are zagging. What’s the fun of skiing? Being in the woods, sliding around on snow, and maybe having a beer after working up a sweat during the winter. Turns out you don’t need much more than a pair of skis and a hill to do that. Thus the allure of the backcountry.