My song Ghost Towns of the Mind went live on Spotify and Apple Music today. To celebrate, I figured I’d share a story about ghost trails of my mind.
I’ve been a passionate skier for more than 4 decades. A lot has changed over the years. Ghost Towns of the Mind contains these two lines in the chorus:
“I travel their trails when I close my eyes…
In the ghost towns of the mind.”
The ghost trail that I travel in my mind is Narrow Gauge at Sugarloaf. If you’ve ever skied at the Loaf, you know that Narrow Gauge is still there. So why do I call it a ghost trail?
Well in 1980, the year that I skied the Loaf more than any other year, Narrow Gauge was not what it is today. Back then there was a TRUE headwall in that trail. Many ski resorts claim to have a headwall, but today’s headwalls simply cannot compare. It was the absolute gnarliest headwall anywhere. Period.
100 feet of extremely steep rock ledge that was the furthest thing from being skier-friendly.
It is an extremely well known fact in the skiing community that east coast resorts can be notoriously icy. Depending upon the track of the storm, east coast resorts can and often do get rainstorms in the winter, followed by a cold front that freezes all the water.
As steep and as challenging as Narrow Gauge used to be, it was still relatively skiable when there was adequate snow cover. But being on the east coast, every winter has a rainstorm or two. As soon as a soaking rain hit the Loaf, the headwall at Narrow Gauge would literally become an ice fall. After that, snow pretty much wouldn’t accumulate on the headwall as it would slide off, be rapidly skied off by the first few skiers of the day, or be blown off. (Am I implying that Sugarloaf can get windy at times? 😉)
After that first winter rain, it was basically over for anyone attempting to ski Narrow Gauge, except, of course, for the courageous and the stupid (I’m not sure where I land on that scale!)
It was not uncommon on a Saturday morning to see hundreds of people jammed up at the top of the headwall in absolute horror looking over the edge in disbelief. Over 90% of them would end up taking off their skis and ever so slowly try to make their way down the headwall on their hands and knees.
I still have that image burned permanently in my memory.
The old Narrow Gauge is a ghost trail that I can only visit in my mind…