Patrick, left, carefully picks a line in Haines, Alaska. Photo: Marek Michejda
When you spend time in a ski town, you’re surrounded by people referred to as ski bums. They come in many forms, directing you to your parking spot at the ski area and loading the lifts. They help you pick out your next pair of skis in the shop and your entrée at the restaurant later that evening. They build the houses and paint them. Some of them aspire to sponsorship, but all of them live to ski. I wanted to give you an intimate look at several such types. Following are some unsung rippers who were immersed in the ski-bum lifestyle – Mike Beerntsen, Hadden Goodman, Patrick White, Erik McGillivray, and Chris Hudon – and how they struck the ever-elusive balance between paying the bills and skiing as much as possible.
No matter how much time you spend planning your move to a ski town, elements of it still remain a leap of faith. You may or may not know anyone and you probably don’t have a job or a place to live. But every true ski bum reaches a point where they’ve read or heard enough about a place that they just need to go.
Mike, in the mountains of Rogers Pass, British Columbia. Photo: Mark Miller.
Mike Beerntsen (above) grew up in Wisconsin, and went to college at Colorado State. “I wanted to ski before I went to school, but that didn’t go over well with my parents, so I finished school,” he said. “My dad showed up at graduation with a box of hand tools. ‘You got a liberal arts degree, so you’ll need these tools,’ he told me.’”
Mike moved to Bozeman, Montana after he graduated. “I loved the concept of Bridger Bowl,” he explained. “The hike-to terrain, the backcountry. I knew I wasn’t going to get a job right away after school because I had an itch I had to scratch. Also, I had plateaued as a skier. My other friends had dropped out of school and their skills exceeded mine. I decided that to become a better skier, I needed a 100-day winter.”
Hadden in the Jackson Hole backcountry. Photo: Travis Goodman.
Hadden Goodman grew up in Atlanta, and left the day after she graduated high school. “I took a year off between high school and college,” she says. “I was a raft guide in the summer and learned how to snowboard while working at a tiny resort in North Carolina called Hawk’s Nest. My parents told me that if I was going to take a year off I was going to have to pay my own way, and it was liberating to be living by myself and paying my own rent.” After college, Hadden moved to Jackson Hole. “I had lived out of my truck as a river rat every summer during college so I was used to the dirtbag lifestyle, but I had not been a ski bum since that season at Hawk’s Nest and I wanted more.”
Patrick, in the backcountry of Lake Tahoe. Photo: Court Leve
While there are skiers like Mike and Hadden whose desire to ski makes them move far from home, there are others who didn’t have to wander far, but still ended up living the ski bum lifestyle. Patrick White grew up in Placerville, Calf., on the western edge of the Sierras. “I grew up ski racing and watching Glenn Plake and Scott Schmidt in Blizzard of Ahhhs,” he told me. “I saw that at 13 or 14 and it hooked me. Coming from Placerville, ‘traveling’ was going to a ski race at Heavenly or Kirkwood, so I stuck to what I knew and moved to the Tahoe basin at 18.”
Erik, at the top of Triple Cliffs in the Jackson Hole backcountry. Photo: Unknown
When it comes to work, there are plenty of ways to make a few bucks in a ski town. Erik McGillivray grew up in New Mexico, went to college at the University of Northern Colorado, and moved to Jackson Hole after he graduated. “I worked in restaurants through college. So I knew that would be my best option for getting work,” said Erik. Working in a restaurant in Jackson Hole can be lucrative, especially in the summertime, as the valley fills with tourists visiting nearby Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks. Erik got a job as a busser at Anthony’s Italian Restaurant, a Jackson Hole fixture from the late 1970s to the early 2000s. Anthony’s was known for the longevity of its employees. People rarely left – one of Erik’s co-workers was Brian Rutter, an early member of the infamous Jackson Hole Air Force.
Chris, on a trip to the Dolomites. Photo: Kristin Schnelten
Chris Hudon grew up in Connecticut, and a few years after he graduated college he pointed his compass west with his sights set on Tahoe. His cousin Craig, who was two weeks ahead of him on the road west, stopped at the Peruvian Lodge at Alta, Utah. “He caught the vibe at Alta, and convinced me stay too,” said Chris. “When it came to work, I wanted to be a snowmaker. So I went to Snowbird and got the job. We had monster storms. I spent more time digging out snow guns than I did actually turning them on and blowing snow. It was cold and wet. I could never keep a pair of gloves that weren’t shredded. It seemed like every night I had to put more duct tape on my gloves.”
Chris eventually became a snowcat driver, where he had a very different set of skills to learn. The cat driving shift was 5:00 p.m.-11:00 p.m., three days per week, and a day shift twice a week. “The day shift was nice,” he said. “The snowcat driver was simply on call in case something had to get run up the peak. So it really didn’t involve a lot of driving. I got a radio and a Snowbird employee jacket, and would go ski until I got a call.”
The night shift wasn’t quite as easy, especially if you had to take the snowcat up to Hidden Peak. “To get up to Hidden Peak you have to have two cats facing each other as you go up the switchbacks because there’s no room to turn around at each switchback,” he said. “So the first cat backs up to the first switchback while the second cat grooms on the way up behind it. Then the second cat backs up the next stretch of cat track with the first cat grooming up that section behind it. And so on and so forth up to the top. It’s sketchy, your tracks are hanging off the side and there are trees sticking out.” On his very last night as a snowcat driver Chris pulled the Hidden Peak shift. “There was a blinding snowstorm that night, I couldn’t see. I had to turn all of the lights off, and I used one spotlight to spot the edge of the track. I was pretty thrilled that I wouldn’t have to drive a cat again after that night.”
Erik, playing in the Grand Targhee backcountry. Photo: Unknown.
Maximizing ski time outside of work was always the priority, even if it meant getting creative with your job responsibilities and sacrificing a good night’s sleep. During an especially powerful storm cycle Erik was scheduled to work as a busser one evening, then work the “prep” shift the next day before another evening bussing shift. The only problem was, both days were lining up to be epic powder days. He got first tram on the first day, worked his bussing shift that night, then stayed at the restaurant to complete his prep work for the next day, which would free up the next day for skiing. He finished in the early hours of the next morning, went home, got a few hours’ sleep, then got up early and got first tram again.
While the powder days and friendships formed are memorable, the lifestyle presents many challenges, both expected and unexpected. “It’s expensive to live in Jackson,” Hadden said. “You have to figure out how to work enough jobs to make ends meet and find time to play. At one point I was working two full-time jobs and had decided to go back to grad school, so I was studying for the GRE.”
Patrick came from a construction background, and got a job as a painter during the summers to stock up before winter. He worked 52 days straight one summer. “Nobody hands it to you,” he said. “You put yourself in the right places, then you meet people, start networking. Living the ski-bum lifestyle, you have to put yourself out there, but it’s cool because good things come from it.”
Mike gets deep in Roger’s Pass, B.C. Photo: Mark Miller.
When Mike moved to Bozeman he lived in a little ranch house outside of town. His room was actually the living room. There were two people in the living room, and one person in the bedroom. “We were total dirtbags. I would leave my knee braces outside because they stunk so bad,” he said.
The living arrangements can be tight, the working hours can be odd, and there is constant worry about making ends meet. But the experiences they had made it all worthwhile. Chris and his fellow snowcat drivers took advantage of moments to make it memorable. “One night, when it was snowing hard, we took the snowcats up the mountain and set them up with the lights pointing at a run. We used a cat to ferry people up the hill, and took turns skiing the run. It was a great experience. I made my life that year how I dreamt it could be. The stars at night, the sunrises, the skiing, the people. It was spectacular.”
Hadden fondly remembers a particular New Year’s Eve. “We were up really late,” she said, “and at about 4:00 a.m. we made the decision to stay up and get in the tram line. New Year’s Day was bluebird. It was awesome to spend New Year’s Eve partying, then to go out and get first tram on a bluebird New Year’s Day.”
Erik goes big on Triple Cliffs in the Jackson Hole Backcountry. Photo: Unknown.
Erik eventually left Jackson, and now lives in Evergreen, Colo., working as a firefighter. He’s back skiing at Winter Park, where it all started for him, and where he now takes his daughter skiing. Mike Beerntsen lives in Frisco, Colo., and has his own general contracting business – looks like his dad was right about those tools. Over the years he reconnected with several of the skiers he met in Bozeman, and to this day they are still some of his closest friends. Hadden Goodman is still in Jackson Hole, working as a physician’s assistant, and has become a fixture in the local community. Erik used to refer to her as the “Mayor of Jackson Hole.” Patrick White continues to live in Truckee, Calif. He owns his own painting company, and has introduced his son and daughter to the slopes he knows so well. “I’m just a guy who loves to ski,” he said.
Chris, at home in Big Cottonwood Canyon, Utah. Photo: Kristin Schnelten
Chris Hudon has been living in Park City for the past 18 years. He works in real estate, developing workforce and attainable housing, and takes his son skiing in the Wasatch. “I’m still a ski bum,” he admits, “but I think you can do that and have a great career. I still ski a lot, and it’s important to me to be in a ski town, but I also need the career, the profession. That’s something I found out when I was driving the snowcat. I needed something else. As I got older, I figured that out. Now I’ve got both.” When asked if he would do anything different, Chris had a simple answer: “I’d get a really good pair of gloves.”
