Stowe’s scribe tallies 54 Vermont ski areas, but won’t finish his backyard tour until 2022

With limited news to report from the mountain, your scribe will turn to a few more of the amazing spots he visited on his epic tour of Vermont ski areas — both large and small, public and private — over these last several months of the pandemic ski season. When the spring thaw took away the natural snowpack upon which backyard skiers and riders frolic, it also froze his count of Vermont ski hills visited at 40, which may, in fact, be a record of some sort for a single season.

Beyond the remarkable group of people encountered along the path, there has also been the benefit of driving so many remote and fascinating back roads. These 40 different spots, plus the 14 more identified but not actually skied, are scattered across 13 of the state’s 14 counties. Alas, Grand Isle appears to be the only county without a single tow, attributable perhaps to the fact that it is also a bit short of hills.

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Moretown, a sleepy community at the northernmost end of the Mad River Valley, has lots of hills and several backyard areas. One of these, Cosmic Hill, was highlighted in an earlier column, but Barnie Bakken is every bit as remarkable as Cosmic Hill. It is a daily source of recreation for the clan who resides on the toe of the slope, up which their rope tow runs. The wheels up which the rope line travels are affixed to a nicely aligned row of standing red pine stumps, chosen for this task when the hill was logged a decade or so ago. There was a vision; now there is skiing. Access here is by invite-only but all sorts of friends and neighbors ski and ride at Barnie Bakken.

Your scribe’s visit was late in the day and it was a treat to do laps as the sun sank below the ridgeline of Camel’s Hump and Ricker Mountain in the distance. The snow was challenging, so the quintet of skiers riding the tow skied the hill into shape by descending over an ever-widening track.

Brian related a tale from a morning a day or two earlier when he and friends spent several hours ski-grooming the hill after one of those gnarly thaw-freeze cycles. At most backyard spots, improvisation is part and parcel of maintaining the hill. (In the 1950s, volunteers would sidestep Mansfield to restore trails to skiable condition.)

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Another adventure for your scribe came on the heels of a pair of visits to Mt. Snow and Stratton in southern Vermont. Thirty minutes after leaving the rather posh world of Stratton’s base village, his trusty Prius Prime completed a sinuous journey over a smorgasbord of hilly paved roads, with one final turn onto dirt that would take him to Bampy Mountain. His host, Tom, has created a wonderful little paradise for his numerous children and grandchildren. The name for the small hill, served by rope tow, comes from the nickname by which he is known to the grandkids.

Bampy Mountain is part of a secluded domain on a hundred or so acres of mixed forest and open meadow. It has a pond for summer water adventures and skating in winter. Cross-country and snowmobile loops make their way in and out of the forested hills that border old pastures. Your Scribe turned in a few laps over a firm but skiable surface. The real treat, however, was sitting in the living room afterwards with Tom listening to him describe how much fun his extended family has had over the last few years. The cost of a rope tow of this scale is modest; the pleasure derived extraordinary.

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Visiting one backyard area after another has given The Scribe so many rich experiences to savor, but perhaps none so remarkable as a trio of rope tows tucked away in the high solitude of the Rochester Gap. Leaving Randolph, the road climbs steadily up the side of the Green Mountain Range. A long driveway delivers you to a clearing that is home to a series of small buildings constructed entirely from wood harvested from the surrounding forests.

The vista here was exceptional. Off in the distance, the trails of Killington, and on a clear day, one can see Ascutney. Far, far away lie the White Mountains across from the Connecticut River valley. Oh, yes, there are also three rope tows too.

The Scribe and his hosts were joined by another family who happen to operate their own backyard area in Norwich. Afternoon sunshine gave way to rose-tinged hues as the sun set behind the tall mountain that shelters this alpine enclave. It is easy to overlook how beautiful the eastern sky can be as the sun sets in the west.

The youngsters took off to ride the kid’s tow — so-called because it can only transport those weighing less than 80 pounds. There is a second, very long and very steep tow that services steep terrain, but this one was experiencing the sorts of technical issues that will ultimately force a summer rebuild.

That left the so-called baby tow, which is a total misnomer. Many laps followed with LED lights soon eliminating a hill descending into dusk. It was edgeable snow groomed by a groomer bartered away from the good folks of Trapps. Modest quantities of malt beverages were consumed this day.

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As this journey began, your scribe was warned by a good friend to be careful about his quest to ski every area in Vermont — “you won’t find them all.” Every quest to turn up another remote area, every inquiry made of longtime ski friends seemed to deliver yet another spot. The Masters racer from Mt. Snow with the rope tow in his yard, the two other people from Norwich with rope tows built for their kids. Tucked up at the top of a long dirt road in Duxbury, yet another hidden spot. In Stowe, a newly installed tow. The list goes on.

How about higher end operations? One near Quechee sports a Poma lift and a high-end grooming machine, or Pine Mountain in Goshen — born into life as Round Top — where snow machines tow friends and family up the hill. High Pond ski area in Hubbardton still exists with a lift, private for sure, but still functioning. Twin Farms resort in Barnard still uses six of the trails from the defunct Sonnenberg ski area.

There is a depth of lift-served skiing, riding and sledding far deeper and richer than most folks realize. Who knew that your scribe’s count of places one can be pulled up a hill in the Green Mountain State would reach 54. Oldtimers like your scribe love to talk about when every town small or large had its own rope tow. Funny thing is that most of them still do. Just the rules have changed.

Kim Brown, a ski bum by winter and a hacker by summer, lives in Waterbury Center with his very understanding family.