The Pow and the Pistes

Vail is, first and foremost, an epic mountain resort. It is not only vast, with roughly 5,300 acres of rideable area, but that vastness is matched by the nature of the terrain – steep (where needed), undulating, winding, peppered with tree runs and – most notably – high alpine bowls.

Whilst there are bigger resorts in North America (Whistler and Big Sky, and from next year the combined resort of Park City and Canyons), and the interlinked ski areas of Europe (such as the Trois Vallees or the Portes du Soleil) would technically dwarf Vail, as a single resort it feels massive.

The densely pisted front side of Vail, which is what I would call the “normal” part of the resort, at 1600 acres, is actually fairly small – but still has some great piste-based bezzing to offer (check out Game Creek Bowl and the runs down into Lionshead).  But the 3600 acres of back bowls – which are largely “off-piste” in Euro parlance – are mind-boggling.

“Vail has definitely got the highest number of 50+ year old shredders of any resort I have been to”

When the snow comes down (as it often does in Colorado), these areas light up, and all the old cliches about kids in candy stores apply (ideally with imported Cadbury’s, not Hersheys). On the couple of occasions that it dumped during our stay, we had lines from first lift to last, and given that we were just common-or-garden punters without any local knowledge, it is clear that there would have been many more epic areas to be accessed by those who were more familiar with their surroundings.

Importantly for those with kids, the back bowl terrain is never nappy-filling scary. Whilst it is steep enough to handle deep powder, our groms were hitting the double black diamonds without any ensuing tears or meltdowns, and with only minimal amounts of bribery needed. That isn’t a thinly-veiled parental boast, just an observation that in Vail a double black diamond isn’t necessarily as gnarly as it sounds, and thanks to the well thought-out topology of the resort, you won’t find yourself needing to abseil your kids over a cliff or busting out the ice axe and crampons unless something goes really badly wrong. Benefitting from the US-style in-bounds / out-of-bounds resort set up (i.e. everything within the resort boundary is theoretically safe and controlled) – we just followed our noses and enjoyed the pow.

The Payola

The guys who set up Vail were legends.

Earl Eaton was the son of a local Vail logger, and loved to ski. Pete Seibert had been part of an elite alpine military squadron that had trained in Colorado, and fought in the European Mountains during WW2. They got together (along with a few other members of the alpine squadron) and decided to build a ski resort in the beautiful Vail valley and its surrounding mountains.

Once they had scrabbled together enough of other peoples’ money (a $10K investment in the initial Vail resort back in the early 1960s bought you a condo in the village and a lift pass for life – suffice to say that will have been one of the best investments anyone will have made who didn’t buy shares in Apple just after Steve Jobs returned), they somehow managed to build a functioning resort over the course of a single (short) summer.

Incredible. Inspiring. Even if they did (as became common parlance in the 60s and 70s) create something of a “Plastic Bavaria” which apes the European resorts of which the founders were so fond, but suffers by comparison.

“Vail’s passion is inevitably moderated by the overbearing corporate feel… and on occasion drowned out by grumpy fat business guys on chairlifts”

These founders were passionate skiers first and foremost, and their simple love of making turns in powder bundles out of the museum here in Vail, and from the literature and videos that have captured the resort’s history over the subsequent 50 years.

This passion is still very much present in Vail; you’ll hear it in the hollers emanating from the back-bowls on a powder day, or from the fist-bumps between groms landing new tricks in the park, or in the belly laughs of those enjoying a few beers at the bottom of the hill at the end of the day…

But this passion is inevitably moderated by the overbearing corporate feel to the newer parts of the village (e.g Lionshead), muffled by the furs which are draped around the shoulders of the bored wives who amble from boutique to boutique because they never really like skiing anyway, hidden behind the expensive artworks that are being shipped from Vail’s galleries to the living rooms of its visitors across all four corners of the globe, and on occasion drowned out by grumpy fat business guys on chairlifts, shouting orders down the phone back to their grunts in the office.

But Vail has struck its deal, as we all have to, with those who provide the money. That money is what fuels an incredible resort, the new lifts, the grooming, the heated pavements which mean my kids won’t slip on any ice, the extensive on-mountain dining facilities…but it has forced Vail into a subservient relationship, a keeping-up-with-the-Joneses arms race to provide ever swankier experiences for an expectant clientele, which I dearly hope (as I am sure do those who hold Vail close to their hearts) will not strip away the passion of those incredible guys who built the resort in the first place.

“I particularly loved seeing the cougars stumbling out of the bars in their ski boots and leopard print pants at 9pm, their starched husbands angrily ushering them along”

The Punters

The predominant punter vibe in Vail is definitely well-heeled baby-boomers enjoying their pension annuity coupled with expensive families taking time out from getting stressed about school plays and games of soccer, to get stressed about their kids’ ski lessons. We were also in Vail during “spring break”, which brings with it a bunch of dumb-ass on-hill antics that you usually only see on BUSC trips (nudity, onesies, beer hats, attention-seeking shouting in the lift queue). But perhaps the most notable subset of the populous that are surprisingly common here in Vail are the “Greys on Trays”.

Vail has definitely got the highest number of 50+ year old shredders of any resort I have been to. Old dudes who will have started riding most likely in their 30s, and who have managed to stick with the sport despite sciatica, mockery from their more sensible peers and hip replacements. Most of them look and talk like they really should be skiers (imagine Victor Meldrew covered himself in glue and stumbled into a Patagonia store, and you get the look), but they give us all hope that the onset of age need not precipitate a descent from the high ground of sideways slipping to the bottom-feeding common-or-garden two planked front-facing snow slipping.

“Vail remains an amazing place to shred, especially if you are with kids”

Given the slightly older population, you also hear quite a lot of moaning. But I suppose if you have been on the planet for approaching 60 years (and spent your winters in Colorado), you will have seen a whole bunch of powder days. So when the snow is less than perfect, it is understandable that you grumble a bit. Suffice to say they would be really fucking grumpy if they had to ski in France every year.

Finally, Vail doesn’t have the same cutting-edge feel to its snowboarding community, unlike Breck where you feel that you could see a 14-year-old bust out a triple cork, or pioneer some obtuse new fashion that no-one else has caught onto yet.  I guess as a young-buck freestyle-thinking shred head, you wouldn’t base yourself here out of choice (given the cost of living, the prevailing grownup vibe and moderate park), so most of the young riders are likely to be the sons and daughters of condo-owners or holiday-makers, and consequently, well… less radical.

Notwithstanding my anti-corporate gripe above, Vail remains an amazing place to shred, especially if you are with kids.  I loved the fact that the lifties are always smiling, and go out of their way to help the groms onto the lift, all day, every day. I love the fact that my children were able to really progress their freestyle riding in a sensibly proportioned park. I loved just disappearing off into a bowl full of powder knowing that my progeny could make it down behind me without any dramas. I also particularly loved seeing the cougars stumbling out of the bars in their ski boots and leopard print pants at 9pm, their starched husbands angrily ushering them along.

In summary, if you are in your middle age, like me, you’ll find plenty to accommodate your lifestage in Vail, but If you are looking for the cutting edge of snowboarding performance and culture, get off the Interstate 70 at Breck instead.

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