TAHOE WINTER ANNUAL 2012
WRITTEN WINNER — $250 in Prizes
Matt McDonald
Realizing his life wasn’t where he wanted it to be, McDonald, 28, quit his tech job to become a professional storyteller (freelance photographer and writer). He spends a lot of time rambling about the Sierra, keeping an eye and ear open for new projects. mattsmcdonald.com
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How do the people of a mountain town get by when a historically dry winter settles in and refuses to leave?
It was Tuesday afternoon as I rolled into Truckee from San Francisco. My stomach mirrored my gas tank — light on, needle drooping well below ‘E.’ I needed my sugar fix, and I knew exactly where to get it — the Treat Box Bakery.
Lee Dufresne, the owner of 35 years, greets me warmly. He plops a chocolate old-fashioned donut into its bag, talking about the winter in a low, slow tone. ‘Never seen anything like it in my 35 years in business,’ he says. ‘We rely on the workers, and they ain’t working.’ I ask Lee how he’s getting by. ‘I’m surviving, like everyone else. It’s just what you do in the mountains.’
Lee’s right. As survival instincts atrophy in modern society, they stay fully alive in our mountain towns. Whether braving stormy summits or small-town economic realities, people choose the mountain lifestyle for a reason — it’s intimate.
As I square up with Lee, I realize I don’t have cash. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ Lee says. ‘Pay me next time; it’ll bring you back.’
Stuffed with Lee’s generosity and donuts, I make my way to Squaw Valley. On the way, I see Mountain Mikes Sports, a staple in Squaw since 1988.
Mike Pavel, the owner and Squaw resident since 1978, has weathered this before. ‘Look,’ he says matter-of-factly, ‘this has been the worst winter ever for my business. We’re down 50 percent, and I’ve had to lay off everyone… six or seven employees.’ Mike continues, ‘We don’t feel the effects of the recession here (since skiing is a wealthy sport), but we’re in the middle of a snow recession right now.’ Then in a contrasting tone, Mike says, ‘A true local enjoys this place no matter what. We love it here.’
After chatting with Mike, I stroll down to the Village at Squaw Valley. I can count the people on one hand, and zero English is being spoken.
Looking for a perspective on winter real estate purchases, I see the Village Real Estate sign flapping in the wind.
Kristina Bergstrand, the owner, is scared. ‘We’re not seeing the emotional buys we normally see.’ Apparently big powder dumps — which rolled in almost daily last year — inspire people to pull the trigger on property. While most of us sip $3 apr’s Coors, others throw down a huge payment for their dream home. Who knew? Like Mike, Kristina is staying optimistic. ‘Last year was a phenomenal year,’ she says. ‘We’ll see a lift [in business] when the snow picks up. It’s dismal now, but when it hits, it’s going to hit hard.’
Guessing that tips for bartenders and servers were also dismal, I find a bar — Mamasake Sushi.
I’m one of two people there.’Home’ by Edward Sharpe blares overhead, reflecting harshly off the polished floor and empty seats and tables.
‘How’s it going?’ I ask the bartender.
‘Shitty,’ he responds. ‘It’s weird man, usually we have an hour wait right now.’
(He gestures around the empty bar.)
‘Are people tipping less?’ I ask.
‘It’s tough,’ he says. ‘People are just trying to save it [money].’
I barely finish my beer before he buses it, throws on his backpack, and rushes out. I catch him at the door (I haven’t paid) and ask where he’s going. ‘To my second job,’ he says. ‘I’m a DJ at Truckee 101.5FM. Check me out 7 to 10 p.m. every Tuesday night.’
A Pro Skier And A Hitchhiker
It’s Thursday and the week begins to slip away.
Luckily Michelle Parker, the Truckee-born and Squaw-groomed pro skier, agrees to meet for lunch. Parker, 24, is one of those people who just makes you feel good about the world. Wearing an infectious smile, she talks (and listens) with purpose. A self-proclaimed ‘creator’ — managing her own brand from an early age — Michelle passionately tackles life’s challenges.
Last winter on Jan. 3, she faced a really terrible one. Her boyfriend, pro snowboarder Danny Toumarkine, suffered a traumatic brain injury after a routine jump in Montana went horribly wrong. Michelle tells me, ‘Danny’s had an unbelievable recovery,’ going from a coma to boarding again in just a year. ‘We want to get his story out.’
Danny’s story, a documentary produced by the Shreddy Times crew, is called ‘Moving Forward.’ It focuses on helmet awareness, as Danny wasn’t wearing one during his accident. Michelle is thankful for the extra time the dry winter is providing. ‘I’m stoked I have something else to put my time into [besides skiing],’ she says. ‘I’m so glad it’s not puking or we never would have hit our deadline.’
Though she’s staying busy, Michelle has skiing on the brain — after all, her living depends on it. ‘Around New Year’s, I snapped,’ she says. ‘I thought, ‘What the hell?’ I stopped checking the weather. Everyday I went to yoga twice, ran, and hit the gym.’ I ask if she’s worried about being ready for her upcoming shoots with Matchstick Productions. ‘I was really worried about that at first,’ she says, ‘but that’s why I’ve been working out so hard, so I can do lots of laps when it’s time.’
As I drive away from lunch, I see a hitchhiker on the side of Highway 28. Should I? I pass, but then, peering over at my lonely passenger seat, flip the wheel and motion him in.
Alex Knuuttunen is a Tahoe freshman — a New Hampshire native who moved here after reveling in last season’s epic dumps. He is on his way to Squaw to hot tub with his buddies. After six straight days of beating themselves up in the park, it’s their rest day.
‘My winter is going awesome,’ Alex says. ‘I’m treating it like it’s summer,’ he says. ‘I’ve been hanging out on the lake, hot tubbing, and skiing a lot too. I’ve got 38 or 39 days in already.’
Alex is a bartender at Alpine. ‘I’ve only gotten three shifts so far, but it’s good money, $250 to $300 per shift,’ he says. Five thousand per month? Damn, that is good money. I ask if he’s excited to work five days a week when winter finally hits. ‘No,’ he says, ‘I want to work two days a week and ski the rest.’ Classic. He tells me his dad sent him a big package of meat, which he’s been stringing out for a month, and he’s totally fine ‘eating a lot more Ramen.’
It’s impossible to not be completely re-energized after 10 minutes with Alex. I got more out of that ride than Alex did, for he allowed me to realize my vision of ski bum Jesus.
All in the Family
So far, I had talked to a lot of people fending for themselves, finding creative ways to stay busy, to stay alive. But there must be others experiencing the opposite, reaping the benefits of the summer-like weather? I knew exactly who to talk to.
Walking into the construction zone of contractor Dean Hall, I find myself surrounded by 10 men working feverishly on a gargantuan house. I climb the unfinished stairs to meet the hearty handshake of the foreman, Gary Diego.
Gary’s tough, an older man of Italian descent, maybe 5 foot 7. He’s been building for 33 years, and I can tell by looking at his hands — battered and creased like the mountains we play on — that he’s worked hard for 33 of them. He’s simultaneously warm and terse; I like Gary immediately.
‘This winter has been fantastic for us. We’re loving it’ he says. ‘Last year at this time, we were shoveling snow for five days straight just to dig out.’ (If the owners pay to dig out after storm cycles, construction can progress year-round).
During their lunch break, I notice a younger member of the crew. He has already stomached a full pizza, burrito, and a can of soup. He’s still going.
His name is Pablo Creres. Pablo, 26, is a Truckee resident. He emigrated from Mexico 10 years ago. Pablo loves living here, smiling widely as he talks about his winter. ‘I worry about the others,’ he says. ‘We need the rich people to come up and spend money.’ I push him, since this weather is serving him well, and he pushes right back.
‘Yes, you’re right. I’m doing great, but we have to think about the others.’
He continues, ‘The maintenance guys are hurting. They cut grass in the summer and plow snow in the winter, but there’s no grass to cut and no snow to plow.’
I find that Pablo’s commitment to community is not unusual as I chat on the phone with Stephanie Castleman Blume, the Truckee Director of Project MANA, a hunger relief agency. Project MANA offers a variety of services, including a soup kitchen, community garden, direct food delivery, and — new this year — serving the unemployed workers from Sugar Bowl and Squaw/Alpine resorts.
I sense Stephanie’s calm, pleasant demeanor over the phone. Like everybody I’ve talked to, she’s willing to chat with a complete stranger.
Stephanie is seeing a new population of those in need this winter. ‘It’s the client living out of their vehicle,’ she says. ‘I see about 30 of them on a regular basis, mostly the 30- to 40-year-old males, who are trying to find work and don’t want to be living out of their vehicle.’
She also watches numbers routinely swell past expectations at the resort distributions. ‘We brought enough food for 60 at our first Squaw distribution, but 95 people showed up.’
Serving this winter’s spike in demand has been tough for Project MANA. ‘We’re very busy,’ says Stephanie. ‘In taking on Sugar Bowl and Squaw this year, we’ve been running out of food.’ Fortunately, on Jan. 23 Squaw/Alpine resorts made a very generous $11,040 donation to Project MANA. ‘We would have been in a tough place if Squaw/Alpine hadn’t pulled together and made this donation,’ Stephanie says. ‘Local people have stepped up and filled the gaps.’
‘Pray for Snow’ and You’ll Get a Dusting
Unfortunately, it’s Tuesday afternoon and time to leave, but I make one final visit to Squaw. Exactly a week earlier, I noted its sparseness minus the occasional foreigner. I’m still in shock by its emptiness.
Walking slowly, I notice a funny sign on the window of the Slot Bar. Slot Closed Tonight. Join us next door at 22 Bistro for our ‘PRAY FOR SNOW’ party!!! Cheap drinks and DJ Nasty Nate!!! As I snap pictures, I see a person’s shadow through the viewfinder. I get one last shot and turn around.
‘You like that?’ he asks.
‘Yeah, I really do.’
‘The party was fun,’ he says. ‘We had a lot of people come out.’
The stranger is Alex Cox, owner of the Slot Bar and 22 Bistro. He’s younger than I expect an owner of two Squaw properties to be, but incredibly friendly.
It’s late in the day as we chat about the predicted storm.
Alex smiles and waves a hello as an older man walks over. His name is Tom. Tom is a spark plug. Clutching a grande latte, he talks breathlessly about the storm, which has the potential to finally open the whole mountain. Tom looks up and waves his hand across the KT face, ‘There’s gonna be people all over that hill, wanting KT to be open, wanting to hike,’ he says. ‘But this ain’t Europe, you can’t just open everything and pack your credit card for a rescue.’
Cold Rain and Snow
As I drove out of town that night — melancholy that my Tahoe immersion was over — I tuned to Truckee 101.5FM, hopeful to hear my bartender friend’s show. At 7:02 sharp, ‘Mr. D’ came on the air. I flipped the seat warmer to high and settled in for ‘Deep Tracks,’ which seemed like an ironic name for a show this season.
Mr. D is quite entertaining on the radio. ‘Speaking of cold, wintery weather coming in,’ he says, ‘all I can see are dollar signs falling from the sky.’ He continues, ‘Tens and twenties, just falling from the sky. [long pause] See… I’m a bartender, and I’ve been waiting for this weather all year.’ Throwing in a big finish to his monologue, Mr. D queues up the Grateful Dead’s ‘Cold Rain and Snow.’ ‘One of the top-five Grateful Dead songs of all time,’ Mr. D says. The music begins to play…
I couldn’t stop smiling as I slid over the backside of Spooner Summit into the Nevada valley below. The historically dry winter of 2012 allowed me to see the real qualities that our mountain towns are built on, that keep these towns moving, surviving one of the hardest winters ever.
Now, I hope we can all take a deep breath together, put on ‘Cold Rain and Snow,’ and enjoy every storm we get this winter.
~ This piece has been edited. Visit http://mattsmcdonald.com/stories/nosnow1 to see the entire story.
