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On Location: New Hampshire Skiing
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BY MEG LUKENS NOONAN
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| The Noonan girls (Kelley, left, and Claudia) after a race at Gunstock Ski Area in Gilford, NH; a slope at Bretton Woods. |
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Noonan, who lives in Hanover, NH, has two teenage daughters who are alpine ski racers. And you thought hockey moms had it rough?
I spend most of my winter weekends at ski areas. There are things that are hard about being a ski mom: finding the socks and long underwear, getting up in the dark on frigid mornings to scrape ice off the car windshield, schlepping the heavy equipment ... and then standing in the cold for what seems like hours while I wait for my kid to take her 50-second run. But the good things outweigh the difficult.
NO LIPSTICK REQUIRED
One big plus: I've gotten to ski almost every area in the state—some big, some no more than snowy humps with a couple of J-bar lifts. Over the years I've developed a deep appreciation for the quirks and charms of the mountains here. I've also learned to love the backroad drives in the blue dawn or lavender twilight, past the maple-sugar shacks and old stone walls, past the dairy farms and Christmas tree plantations, past the general stores and, yes, the occasional rural Walmart.
IN PRAISE OF THE "KANC"
When we have to get to a race in the Mount Washington Valley, we drive from Lincoln to Conway on the Kancamagus Highway, a 34-mile engineering marvel that celebrated its 50th anniversary in August 2009. It took 23 years to carve this two-lane road through the White Mountain National Forest, linking two dead-end logging routes at either end. Until it opened, there was no direct east-west route through this part of the state—you really couldn't get there from here. Named after a 17th-century Indian chief, the "Kanc" is a whipsnake of S-curves and vertigo-inducing corners. If you dare to take your eyes off the road for a moment, you'll find the views superb, especially at 2,855-foot Kancamagus Pass (the road's highest point) and along the boulder-lined Swift River on the route's eastern end.
ONE ON ONE
There are no services on the Kancamagus Highway. Whenever I see the sign that reads "No Gas for the Next 32 Miles," I feel a twinge of fear, even when I know my tank is full. Boston may be just two hours south, but on the Kancamagus, New Hampshire seems huge and unbounded, full of possibility and peril. When my daughters are grown and on to other things, what I'll remember most about their ski-racing days probably won't be the ribbons or the trophies. More likely, it'll be riding with them on that wild winter road, cocooned in the warm car, talking.
NOTE: Information may have changed since publication. Please confirm key details before planning your trip.
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Published: November 1, 2009
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Photos: Meg Lukens Noonan; Rob Howard
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