Tim Scott: The winter of 1969

If you were to walk into the Carroll Reed Shop in the late winter of 1969, you would likely be greeted by a rack of oversized white and red bumper stickers that boldly declared “I Survived the Winter of ’69.” Such were the snow levels of that long ago winter here in our valley exactly a half-century ago. It was the year that snow depths were so great that lift operators had to dig down to uncover T-bars before the lifts would even start and snow banks were so great that many of us remember the only clear view being from second-story windows. It snowed 164 inches that year, a record that has held up ever since, except, perhaps, for what will come of this remarkable year.

I was 13 years old that winter, and skiing had become the only thing I really loved to do. Just the year before, Jean-Claude Killy had visited New Hampshire, the Grenoble Olympics had captivated us and suddenly everywhere ski racing took on a level of significance far beyond what had ever gone before. It was also the winter that “plastic” Lange boots appeared in a few select shops and shiny maroon Rossignol Stratos became the aspirational skis of choice. My father was back in the country that winter, and he and I skied together every weekend, not once hearing the familiar scape of metal edges on the hard, blue ice long common to our New England experience. It was simply glorious skiing and week after week the snow just kept on coming.