A Love Letter to Mad River Glen
When I first tried a telemark ski, it was December of 2020. I fell on my face at least ten times in two runs. To say that I was humbled would be an understatement. I had watched hours of youtube videos the night before from people all over the globe attempting to explain the miracle that is the telemark turn. I often hear the term “telemarketer” thrown around jokingly, and I think it is absoultely the correct word to use in this context. These people on the internet are telemarketers and I was rapidly enthralled by their pseudo-science of skiing.
Courtesy of wikimedia
My first pair of telemark skis, after careful internet research, was the 2021 Summitcone Exile 106 with 22 Design’s Outlaw NTN bindings. This was purchased from the Fey Brothers in Burlington, VT. They are the largest telemark equipment distributor in the US. Biggest in a small industry is still small. I love them! They were the perfect ski to progress on, providing ample edge on the groomers of my home mountiain Vail. As the season drew on, I grew more confident in my ability to take a telemark turn at speed, and more importantly, in variable terrain.

When I learned that the Fey Brothers put on a series of telemark festivals around New England, I was ecstatic. As a sophmore at Northeastern University, I was eager to use the car I had managed to bring all the way to Boston from Colorado. The perfect weekend of the travelling festival was at the Mad River Glen, a ski resort I had never been to before.
When I think of skiing, my mind naturally gravitates towards my childhood mountain of Vail, or the alpine pistes of a place like Zermatt. What I discovered was a small hill, not alltogether distinct from the surrounding lumps of terrain in the central Vermont topology. The distinguishing factor of this hill however was the exceptionally narrow ski “trails” that snaked down in an oddly natural meandering fashion. I use the word “trail” instead of “run” or “piste” to designate the shape and size of these clearings in the otherwise dense New England forest. They’re not much wider than a doubletrack backountry logging road, and almost every one is dotted with perfectly circular moguls.
A lot is special about Mad River Glen, but three things in particular stand out. One is that the resort is a co-op, meaning it’s entirely owned by the people who ski there. Even you can buy a share and get voting power for only a few thousand dollars. The second is their main chairlift, the single. It’s one of the last one seat chairlifts left in not just the US, but the whole world. It was originally installed at the resort’s opening in 1948, and instead of replacing it with a high speed lift when the chair broke down in 2007, they raised the money and spent extra to restore the lift so that it would run for another 50 years. And third, they ban all snowboarders. The moguls are just so much better without them (no hate)!
The author on the Single riding up with a demo lurk
Before skiing at the Glen, I was still unsure of why I was even trying to continue pursuing skiing out east. If the conditions and terrain were so poor, why bother? But this place was different, and the snow combined with the trails made me fall in love with a whole different side of skiing. Especially as a telemark skier, I’m always focused on going down the hill in good style, not necessarily at the highest speed or the biggest line. This place rewards you for doing just that, and I couldn’t be happier that I found such a gem.