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Salvation In
Vermont (cont.)
It was about a 20
minute drive to Jay Peak resort, from “Monkey Center”, as the locals
fondly refer to their town. Much of the ride made Monkey Center look
like a bustling urban metropolis. The snow-covered scenery included
nothing but trees, rough pavement and the occasional backwoods cabin. On
more than one occasion, I viewed a rider crawling out of Jay
backcountry, gloves off and thumb out. I cursed our luck that we had to
avoid surefire local knowledge and secret stashes, as our car was packed
top-to-bottom with us, our gear and crap Mark never bothered to take
out. I’d have to find the goods on my own.
We rolled up to Jay,
snagged our half-price passes and hit the tram line for our first annual
taste of riding. The immediate and utter disappointment that I felt upon
my first tastes of Jay is very difficult to verbalize. First, there was
the tram. Being my first experience with a tram, I was expecting a big,
efficient gondola. Where I got this crazy expectation is another
question altogether. I quickly learned why the tram is fast approaching extinction. I stood in line for nearly 30 minutes just so I could pack
into this big, standing room beast and make way up the mountain at a
mind-boggling crawl. I watched double-chairlifts soar past us in the
distance and immediately understood why the tram was an outdated means
of snow travel.
The disappointment
really took hold on my first run down. Snow was my sole reason for
making this trip in the first place. I’d been watching for days and they
had received close to 3 feet over the past 5 days. I expected first-rate, memory-churning riding. However, on this day one would have been
pressed to find any sign of new snow at the top of Jay, or even on its
runs. Hands down the coldest and iciest runs I’d ever experienced, the
conditions were nowhere in the vicinity of the prime riding I had come
for. In fact, 30 seconds into my first run I hit some solid ice, soared
in the air for 5 feet and head planted. I spent the rest of the day
confident that I had a concussion. This was not what I had risked life,
limb and wallet for in taking this trip.
Switching from the
tram to the lifts did not improve things much. The lifts defined a new
level of bitterly cold wind that I had ever had the displeasure of
experiencing. The wicked gusts coming off the backside of the mountain
nearly blew me straight off the lift. The only way to ride was to throw
on the hood, put my head down and pray for the summit, as my chair blew
viciously back and forth. I grabbed on for dear life time and time
again.
I tried to keep an
open mind, but it proved a monstrous task to overcome my initial
disappointment. I would spend days and, later, months before I realized
how much this resort had to offer.
Veering off of the
slick runs into Jay glades started to warm me. Jay has a ton of sick
gladed areas. In fact, on nearly every run, one could make a quick
beeline for the trees and disappear into the wilderness. And the
conditions that were so lacking on their runs were in no shortage in the
trees. I packed hours of knee deep, untracked powder into my two days at
Jay. This place was a glade heaven. I’d spent most of my time on the
Staircase Glades, finding a new entrance and fresh line every time —
pushing piles of loose powder down the mountain in a pleasure-inducing
freefall. This was clearly what I had been missing out on all season
long. And damn did it feel good to be here.
Having head-planted
on my first run, I rode Jay’s runs with a reserved caution from there on
out, watching closely for ice. With some reserve, I was able to enjoy
the runs well enough, but the moment I saw an opening in the trees I
headed straight for it. My buddy, whose riding skills are questionable,
enjoyed his first taste of the trees and we plowed through two- and three-foot stashes at eye-watering speed. This
was what riding is about, plain
and simple.
Given its backwoods
locale, Jay offers scant opportunity for après ski and nightlife.
Montgomery Center had two bar/restaurants that I noticed. The Snowshoe
Lodge had good burgers at cheap prices and was a good place to sit down
after a long ride and enjoy some local brews with your buddies. It had
the feel of catering to a tight-knit group of people who shared a
passion for a way of life, that any true snow enthusiast can understand.
If nightclubs and
women are your thing, Jay probably won’t be. I didn’t see any single
women in Snowshoe and not many women under 40 at that. The hottest place
to chill seemed to be the BYOB lounge at Grampa Grunt’s. It had pool,
darts, a poker table and the cheapest beers in town (available at the
grocery store in bulk). It also had plenty of young bros, capitalizing
on the unbeatable room rates at Grunt’s, a great opportunity to trade
war stories and backcountry secrets. But, again, not too much in terms
of females.
Seeing the delirious
start that I began this trip with, I wasn’t in the market for any heavy
nighttime debauchery. A sixer of Vermont ale and a couple episodes of Chappelle’s Show and I was out by nine, able to wake up early for a new
day of powder excursions.
Our second morning
brought the reality that Grampa Grunt’s extravagant breakfast was an
exception, not a rule. If there isn’t a full house, Grampa Grunt ain’t
cookin. Left with slim options, we headed off to the grocer for some
breakfast-style Hot Pockets (BYOB lounge comes stocked with a full
kitchen for all your cooking needs). Not the best way to start your day,
but at least it provided the necessary carbs.
With my
newly-discovered Jay knowledge, the second day was ten times the first.
Concussion worries were replaced by tight tree-dodging lines, each run
surpassing the one before. The winds didn’t let up, but then again,
neither did the snow. The continual snow kept right on falling, as the
“Jay Cloud” maintained its slow, steady dump, helping to fill in old
tracks and allow for unlimited fresh lines. The day-long smile on my
face made me realize that I might change my overall opinion of the place
soon enough.
As the day began to
wind to a close, I began to ponder the ridiculous number of hours I had
accumulated waiting for my buddy Mark over the years I’d known him.
Today it was payback time. I decided to end the day and my short visit
by diving headlong into some backwoods to the far left of the resort.
I couldn’t have
picked a better way to pay him back. I plunged downhill into unchartered
pow, maintaining my momentum as long as there was enough gravity to
propel me. I didn’t see a soul this last run and had the
powder-landscaped playground all to myself. I got every last minute out
of the trip. It was the end of my season, and in many ways this trip was
my season.
Eventually, the
terrain flattened out and I had to hike out. Well past 5 o’clock, I made
it back to base and met Mark. We drove back to our lodge and I looked
back at Jay with a mixture of contempt and fondness. It would take me a
while to formulate a proper opinion on this place.
In fact, it took me
several months to really establish a lasting opinion on Jay. Upon
leaving the resort, the initial disappointment that had so filled my
soul was still real and powerful, despite the glades. It snows 36
inches and this place is covered in ice?? I even spent precious time
writing negative reviews about Jay, rebutting everyone who propagated
the opinion that Jay was synonomous with SNOW. Maybe in the woods, I
would write, but you can forget it on the runs. If you like woods go to
Jay, if not stop your trip further south in Vermont — this was my
message for all fellow enthusiasts.
However, eventually
this attitude made a turn for the better. The more I thought about my
trip to Vermont’s northernmost reaches, the more I found a warm
nostalgia for Jay.
I realize now that
Jay offers a truly unique experience that lies at the core of why I
ride. The resort, as well as all surrounding communities, are stripped
down to the most basic of basics. You can eat, you can sleep and you can
ride. If you are looking to shop, spa, fine dine, party, or any other
plush alternative, choose another resort. Period. You’ll find no
shortage of other resorts tailored to your lifestyle. But, if you want to spend your trip riding — open to
close — in a snow-induced trance, hit Jay up.
The atmosphere at Jay
was a rare treat. Chatting with a dude named Grampa Grunt over a
monster, pre-ride breakfast, ordering his son’s independent boards,
waking every morning to continual snowfall, riding on the only tram in
Vermont, spending hours in solitary, light fluff and just being in a
place where riding comes first and foremost — bar none — this is what
Jay offers its patrons. It is the chance to escape, get out into nature
and experience glade riding at its finest.
So if you are serious
about riding and want to experience the sport in all its elemental
glory, put Jay on your To-Do list. Just be prepared for the all-out
journey, and do yourself a favor — travel in daylight.
Ж
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As an avid snowboarder growing up in
New Jersey, writer Chris Weiss looked to New England as a refuge
for world class riding. He sneaks off to Stowe, Killington, Jay Peak and
other resorts whenever he gets the chance.
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