Lutsen: The Stoke Exists In Northern MN
PaddyO in the frozen trees of Moose Mountain
Grey clouds hung despondently across the St. Paul sky. It was midday on a Friday. The temperature had warmed 40 degrees from 4 days previously when the polar vortex descended upon the Twin Cities. Yet even with the influx of warmth, the temp danced in the teens and a cold bite blistered the air. Two cars were loaded with ski and snowboard gear, Framed Bikes’ new fatties, Demo Event materials, $1000 worth of schwag giveaways, and mostly the hopes for great riding. Lutsen Mountains, heralded as the best skiing in Minnesota, was our destination. I was excited, skeptical, eager, and full of desire. It was time to ski…finally.
I moved from Telluride, CO, to St. Paul in the early summer of 2013. Telluride was the birth place of my skiing passion and lifestyle. I arrived in the small ski town wet behind the ears, with a full ski set up, and 3 days of skiing under my belt…ever. I poured myself into the new sport and it quickly became my passion, my heart, my soul. The pursuit of the skiing life yielded opportunities I had never dreamed: hip deep powder skiing, 6’5” faceshots, exploring the dangerous and beautiful San Juans, every mountain town job under the sun, and an opportunity to join the world renowned Telluride Ski Patrol. While Telluride had generated extremely fulfilling rewards, it had also been the site of struggle and hardship on many levels. I moved back to the Midwest, the region of my birth, for a change in lifestyle and a change in professional direction.
Geared up and ready to ride.
I was hired as “the face of skiing” for The House. The new opportunity allowed me to return to my passion for writing and to continue to develop my devotion to the skiing life albeit through different means. The months spent with The House had been amazing and proved my move from Colorado to be a success professionally. However, the skier inside me did not share that sentiment and was adamant at pointing out his displeasure. Facebook and Instagram posts highlighting Telluride’s epic snowfall and skiing conditions from this season created a doubting internal dialogue: Have I made the wrong choice? Will I be able to handle winters in the Midwest with Midwest skiing?
I-35 was as sloppy and slow moving as our exit from St. Paul. With bellies full of tacos from Casa Lupita and greasy hands from securing 3 of Framed Bikes Minnesota Fatties to the rack on the truck, Kermit, Dana, George, Hannah, and I slugged our way north toward Duluth. All travel companions are co-workers and MN born and raised. Dana, a curly haired avid Lake Superior North Shore surfer and Minnesnowta enthusiast, went to school in Duluth, knows all MN nooks and crannies, and was our unofficial tour guide with an official Minnesotan accent, dontcha know. Kermit is a talented artist and fervent snowboarder with extra dry humor and an unassuming character. As the Head of Marketing for The House, he is our boss and, for this adventure, most definitely the Trip Leader. George is a short man with a giant personality. A bearded Uptowner, a talented snowboarder, and gifted graphic artist, George is The House’s know-it-all for bikes and our snowboard lieutenant. And then there’s Hannah. We had met once previously, and I suppose she was on this trip as den mother, a conceptualized insurance policy for keeping the wheels from falling off. This raspy-voiced brunette is a stone cold mountain crumbling slasher that doesn’t hang with the fellas but out rides them. She can also put up with a lot of ribbing—a lot.
Giggling on the Timber Twister
About twenty minutes outside of Spirit Mountain we stopped at an artesian well to fill our Nalgenes, which is French for “I want to pee on a snowbank.” We decided to break up the four-hour ride to Lutsen with a skiing interlude. Mark and Mike, Spirit Mountains’ boot doctors, monster fitted an upper cuff buckle back on to my boot after I snapped the grommet (I refuse to get new shells). When the buckle popped my stomach sank. Was this a precursor to the rest of the weekend? As it turned out, yes, but not an ominous one. Mark gave me two tickets to Spirit’s alpine coaster. After a low light freezing rain shred fest, Kermit and I got giggly on the coaster that screamed through the woods. A little bit of struggle for a lot of smiling. This was the theme for the weekend and perhaps for my move down from the mountains.
We cruised farther north on 61 in full snowy blackness. We stopped again and, while I typically would let this detour from strict road trip rules aggravate me, I began to see our journey was a purposeful trudge rather than an aimless wander. At the mouth of the Knife River, tucked away on Scenic Drive, sits The Lighthouse At Emily’s. We needed a delicious homemade dinner and the cozy restaurant with a scenic overlook of the North Shore of Lake Superior was a perfect fit. Finally, around 10pm, we arrived at Lutsen. While Kermit checked us in, the rest of us laughed in the parking lot and stirred the pot of excitement. It reminded me of my first trip to Telluride, arriving in the cold blackness of a mountain evening. The beauty of the drive hidden from my eyes but dancing brilliantly in the anticipation of my mind. Lutsen lay in slumber. What I could see of her was only lit by ambient light, but it was the first real terrain I’ve seen since moving to Minnesota.
Saturday morning was graybird but Lutsen delivered on her evening flirtation. The Sawtooth Mountains slam into the coastline of Lake Superior and rear up on their hind legs, standing nearly 1000ft tall, Lutsen’s skiable terrain covering 1000 acres of them. Lutsen’s picturesque beauty is dramatic and unique to the available skiing in Minnesota— 95 runs and 820 vertical feet are drastically larger than any other ski hill in the Gopher State. The terrain is fun and ignites creative line choice while also catering to the skiers desirous of open mellow cruisers. Lutsen turned out to be much more than I had anticipated.
We didn’t have to start setting up for the demo until 1pm. This left half the day wide open to explore, go fast, and get into the air. A quick breakfast was met abruptly with another slow start for Team Epic Struggle, a moniker collectively deemed appropriate for our group. 5 people booting up takes time, as well, George had misplaced his wallet.
“Do you think it fell out while you were riding the fatties last night?”
“What?! I’ve been wearing tight jeans for ten years and never had an issue!” (Wallet-less, without ID or money, George obtained a weekend ski pass by remembering his Industry Pass Number and adding a sprinkling of bearded charm. His wallet was later found “hiding” in his backpack. Score one for Team Epic Struggle.)
View from the Gondola
Shortly after 9 a.m. we loaded the Bridge Chair to take us to the top of Eagle Mountain, which even on an overcast day had great views of the lake. A few laps on Split Rock, then poking around in the trees and playing under the lift, we all desired to get away from the bustling core of the ski hill. We loaded the Gondola, which looked like it was straight out of Warren Miller’s first movies, and clinked our way to the beautiful expanse of Moose Mountain. The terrain accessed by the new 6 seat high speed detachable Caribou Express, or as I referred to it “The Flying Couch,” is the best on the hill. Most notably, the skiing on Buckshot, Moose Tracks, Bobcat, Kit, and Cougar made me whoop and holler. There is enough of a challenge to keep things spicy on the gentle slope of the gladed trees as well as fun natural features to bonk and boost. The trees were adorned with a crystalized skin of white and swayed heavily in the gentle breeze. This being my first season skiing in the Midwest, skiing the trees is especially wonderful. There is something poetic and a bit romantic about skiing through the frozen patches of the Midwestern trees of my youth that live brilliantly within the glint of my memory. For the first time this season, I initiated a turn, leaned in, and did not hear it. And just like that, it clicked. I was there, emerged in that special state of heightened existence and acute communion with nature. A full on, unadulterated stoke. Thank God. I’ve missed you.
The demo went better than expected and the trip as a whole was a success in terms of work. The locals were good-humored, approachable, and loved to talk about skiing. Everyone from the novice to the hard core 4 season biker loved the Framed Fat Bikes. We spread the brand, gave away a snowboard and a set of skis, and obtained over 200 email signups. The Lutsen Mountains Staff was incredible and took care of us; Tim the Lifty the best character of the bunch. He had the sun and wind-burned skin and cracked perma-smile of a true ski bum. His Bro tilted Sunglasses correctly sat on the outside of his toque. He is the only Lifty I have ever seen strumming a guitar in the top shack and he was the only one at Lutsen listening to tunes at the bottom. I wanted to stop and talk with him about secret stashes, if they even existed, and the goings-on of a Midwestern Ski Bum. All it took was a nod though. He saw it was time to ski.
Lutsen was more than a successful work trip. It was an embrace of reassurance to the doubts of my decision to move to the Midwest. It was a fanning of the fire of my passion. Maybe I’ll have to work a little harder, struggle for a period of time but I don’t have to suffer. It’s out there waiting. I just have to align myself to get it.
Gooseberry Falls — North Shore of Lake Superior
