Dave Dubuque: The best mountain? The one you ski at most

It’s commonly said that the best camera is the one you have with you. And that the secret to wealth is keeping your first spouse and your first house.

In my opinion, “Get a season pass at your local hill,” deserves to be as well known as either of these adages.

No, this is not a solicited testimonial. Truthfully, I have no idea where mountain management stands on the matter, but I suspect that single-day tickets are bigger revenue generators than season passes. As a skier who loves uncrowded slopes, it’s certainly not in my best interest to persuade more people to get unlimited access to the hill. But I’m a columnist – and the oath each of us takes compels us to act in the best interest of our readership. Honest.

Why get a pass?

A quick look at my local hill’s Tickets & Passes page, a quick reality check, and a little math tell the story:

• Price of an adult pass: $749.
• Price of a weekend ticket: $70.
• Days needed to break even: 11.

In reality, you’ll pay much less for your pass if you purchase it early in the spring, bringing the break-even point to much lower.

“But I don’t want to be married to just one hill – I want to chase the best snow,” I hear you saying. Of course you do, you ripper. But does that mean you won’t ski your local hill more than six times? Consider the dry spell we’re having. Your local hill’s packed powder skis just the same as it does anywhere else.

Another great reason: The pandemic has brought more dust-covered skis out of the attic than any other event in recent history, and lift tickets are often sold out before the day even starts. Passholders always have access, and never have to turn around and go figure out another way to spend the day.

As a passholder, you’ll never feel compelled to “really get your money’s worth.” If I dropped a (totally reasonable) $70 for a day ticket, I imagine I’d feel intense guilt if I didn’t arrive half an hour early and ski until the lifts closed.

The other day, after an evening of rich food and red wine, I got up an hour late to the hill (no, it was not a powder day), and leisurely booted-up in the parking lot – taking in the views and not rushing to do a single thing.

“This must be what retirement feels like all of the time,” I thought.

“You’re really country clubbing it today!” yelled my buddy Andy as he drove by.

“I really am,” I thought, “and I like it.”

I think I may have even called it a day on the early side to go on a walk with my supportive yet long-suffering ski-widow wife (not her real name). Think that I’d be that leisurely or magnanimous if I paid by the day?

Having a pass also means that you’ll be a local. Now we’re talking fun. You’ll know the mountain like the back of your hand: where to find the best powder, where other locals might be hanging out, uh, eating potato chips. And the other locals will look up from their bag of chips and say, “Hey, I heard that the snow on Chair 6 is skiing like a Slushy today.” Or, “Dang, the South Face is a coral reef.” Which may or may not be a good thing, depending on your preferences. But at least you’ll be in the know.

You and the gang will probably even goad each other into adventures. You may do as much hiking as skiing. “Gully 4 was like pick-up sticks at the bottom, and Andy fell down in a pile of brush and I had to drag him out on his belly,” you’ll recount.

Memories in the making, I tell ya. That’s the best kind of skiing.

It’s good to be a passholding local. And sure, get out there and enjoy the region’s other four lovely hills in a hurried, cost-conscious fashion, from first chair until last, but remember:

The best mountain is the one you’ll ski most often.