| Let’s backpedal a bit. In August, 1880,
Frederick Sleigh Roberts, a British general, marched 10,000 troops
313 miles in 22
days from Kabul to Kandahar, Afghanistan’s largest city, to relieve
a British garrison besieged there by Afghans. He was rewarded by
the British crown with a promotion to Field Marshall, and the title
of Lord Roberts of Kandahar. British custom allows generals, upon
being knighted, to take the name of an important battle.
What is the connection with skiing? Arnold Lunn’s father,
Henry, had established the Lunn Travel Agency towards
the end of the 19th
century. Foreseeing the possibilities of winter sports, he engaged
a number of Swiss hotels for the Agency’s exclusive winter use.
However, only the well-off could afford such travel
and they did not take
organized tours. What to do? Henry Lunn then formed the Public
Schools Alpine Sports Club for the upper classes
who had gone to British
public schools, which, in the USA, are private schools. The PSASC
was the Lunn Agency, thinly disguised. Nonetheless, it became
a huge success with winter sports centers in many
parts of the Alps. Henry
Lunn had, earlier, been a missionary and had known Lord Roberts
in India. He had little trouble, then, in persuading
the Earl to be
vice-president of the newly formed club.
Beginning
in 1903, the club held various winter events, including ski
racing, and Lord Roberts of Kandahar
put up a cup for the
best skier. The first downhill race for the new Roberts of
Kandahar Challenge
Cup was held in January, 1911, in Crans, Switzerland, and held
annually thereafter except for the two World Wars. Now fast
forward to 1924
when a new club was formed in Murren which took the name Kandahar.
By then, Henry’s son, Arnold, was a power in the sport, having
developed the modern slalom. He had met Hannes Schneider, the
Arlberg skimeister,
in St. Anton, Austria and they discussed a two-club meet to
be known as the Arlberg-Kandahar, the winner to
be the winner of
a combined
downhill and slalom. It was held on 31 March-1 April, 1928
at St. Anton and drew an international field. Thereafter,
it was
held alternately
at St. Anton and Murren. Chamonix was added in 1948, Sestriere
in 1951 and Garmisch in 1954. The A-K is still alive and well
as a charter
member of the White Circus, the World Cup.
The Kandahar Ski Club
has lent its name to the Quebec Kandahar in 1931 at St. Sauveur,
the Scottish Kandahar in 1937, the
Far West
Kandahar in 1939 the Andes Kandahar in 1942, the Norwegian
Kandahar in 1947 and the New England Kandahar held at Mad
River Glen on
25 March 1956. This compressed, thumbnail sketch outlines
a strange, tortuous historical ski trek from Afghanistan
to Vermont.
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Sugarbush Evolved
 |
Mascara, my eye! Oh, yes,
there was a time when
that big, much publicized ski area near Warren was derisively tagged
Mascara Mountain by those
envious of all its attendant hoopla. But that was long ago and is
now but history.
When Damon
Gadd, co-founder and president, |
opened Sugarbush in December 1958,
it was an early model of the complete
ski resort, a place
for a cozy uphill ride, fine dining, upscale accommodations, clubby
gatherings and general all around fun. Unfortunately,
the fact that Lincoln Mountain is a big hunk of a skiing hill sort
of got lost in the mix. Damon and wife, Sara, had been long time skiers
at Mad River, just two mountains north where Jack Murphy was manager.
Mad River was, and still is, an old-fashioned, even Spartan area
beloved by its devotees. The
Gadds and Murphy, taking note of skiing’s growth, thought
that perhaps attention must be paid to creature comforts. The big bowl
off Lincoln Mountain captured their attention. Jack Murphy gave notice
to Mad
River and the trio was off to find funding and to make plans. They
wound up in Aspen
in search of deep pockets and, while there, met Peter Estin who came
back to run the Sugarbush ski school.
Sugarbush got its name one
evening while blue-skying.
Thinking of Vermont-y things like maple syrup suggested Sugarbush.
What could be more appropriate?
Creature comforts meant, among others, not riding open chairlifts draped
in frozen blankets. Only an enclosed lift would do. The answer
was an up-mountain
clothesline of Easter egg gondolas seating three people each for a
9,300 foot ride up and a 2,400 foot vertical descent. The bubbles were
revolutionary
enough
but it was their adornment of dots and stripes and spirals of every
conceivable
shade that glazed the eye. It was all in keeping with those flower
years but unheard of in a ski environment and it captured the attention
of press and
photographer. The photos baited the publicity hounds of the Good Life,
those who jetted off to St. Tropez and such at the merest whim.
Café Society
and theatre and political types flocked to Sugarbush with their fur hats
and bespoke
ski clothes. Orsini’s, a topnotch eatery, led the way in gastronomy. The
Valley House base area, at first, doubled as a restaurant. Then followed
the unthinkable:
a bar in the base house. Dire predictions went unmet. Tablecloths in the
lunchroom only enhanced the jet-set image. The anointed gathered, gossiped,
dined, wined
and danced. An exclusive group called Ski Club 10 lent an international
aura to the scene. What went unmentioned was that many of them were quite
good skiers
on a big, demanding mountain. Even Stein added luster as ski school director
in 1964, staying for four years and leaving a fall-line trail, “Stein’s
Run,” as his legacy.
Early Sugarbush, although it had first-class skiing,
existed
largely on image rather than substance. But it was transitory and, like
butterflies, the jet-set eventually flitted off to some other favored
flower. “Others” came
to find splendid, challenging skiing. Prices were comparable to other like
ski areas. For fine dining, The Common Man, Chez Henri in the friendly
complex at the base known as Sugarbush Village, and the Sugarbush Inn,
ca 1960, greeted
them. The venerable Blue Tooth on the access road, a renowned après
ski watering hole, still throbbed.
Sugarbush finally grew into
what it first promised: a first-class skiing experience, with lifts
and slopes
for all levels
of proficiency. The whole shebang was purchased by Roy Cohen who
then acquired its next-door neighbor Glen Ellen in 1979 and renamed
it Sugarbush
North.
The cutesy gondolas which carried but 450 skiers uphill hourly
were replaced
in 1984 by two triple chairs, the Super Bravo and Heaven’s Gate
with an uphill capacity of 1,800 an hour. Other on-mountain changes
further
pushed the old
image into the background without eroding amenities. Orsini’s is
gone but
The Common Man and Chez Henri still cater to the gastronome, joined
now by several other prime food purveyors. Sugarbush North’s lift configuration
was inefficient and has undergone radical upgrading to provide increased
per hour ridership according to Sugarbush president, Bob Ackland. And
a big, new lodge is in the works. So, as the saying goes, stay tuned!
With the passage of time, Sugarbush slowly but surely evolved from
adolescent frivolity into a more dignified maturity. Mascara ran and
is now but a smudge on memory’s face. --Allen Adler |
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