Justin Norman styling out one of the several switch backside 540s he stomped off this windlip. “BEN, I’VE GOT SOME BAD NEWS,” Matt McFerran says over the phone. We’d just returned to our rental house, changed and eaten dinner when he delivered the curveball. “We’re not going to be able to open the mountain tomorrow, unfortunately.” Matt explains that both the snowcats Soldier uses for grooming are broken down, and despite the unrelenting efforts of he, his staff and even a technician they brought in from Utah, they aren’t going to be able to get them running in time to safely groom the mountain. We can’t help but feel disheartened empathy for the McFerrans, knowing they were expecting big numbers this weekend and financial hits like these are especially hard for independent operations to take. “Damn, I’m sorry to hear that,” I tell him. “Well, maybe we can still come up and build a jump?” To which he’s quick to respond, “Hell, yeah.” The next morning, we find the McFerrans in the parking lot. They lend us a snowmobile and an invitation to explore the resort, so long as we promise to keep the sled on the cat tracks. As the noob around most motorized vehicles I offer to take the tow-behind while Matt and Justin double up in search of turns and, if we’re lucky, a little airtime, which we find in that order. Dipping just off the cat track lands us in waist-deep powder, but each hike back to the snowmobile takes tremendous effort in this dry, bottomless snow. We leave the sled be-hind to descend inbounds terrain, cruising playfully over a rolling fall line, then meandering through an easily managed glade littered with stumpy side hits. Between the bowls up high and trees down low, Sol-dier’s 1,150 acres prove more enthralling than its slight size may imply. At the end of the day, we have a quick pint and bid adieu to the Mc-Ferrans. We leave Soldier Mountain rooting for them, sharing solidar-ity and support for this homey operation. It’s not until several months later that we discover Soldier Mountain had been put back on the market the very same week we visited. “We’ve put a lot of work and time and love and money—pretty much our whole selves into making the mountain what it is today, and making plans for what it could be in the future,” Diane says later. “We knew that Soldier had previously operated in deficit and that there were going to be some big challenges with it, but we wanted to see what we could do.” Low snowfall during the 2017-18 winter didn’t help their cause. Yet things for the McFerrans could’ve gone worse. Soldier saw consistent snowfall and ticket sales throughout the remainder of the 2018-19 season, and nearly every weekend’s snowcat-yurt trips are booked dur-ing the coming winter. The McFerrans can be forever proud of the improvements they made to this small ski hill in southern Idaho, of their loving contribution to its culture and community and, above all else, of living their dream, despite the hardships the endeavor might’ve caused. “I wouldn’t trade it for the world,” Diane says. “We’ve had the experience of a lifetime.” The McFerrans feel they have a good grip on what Soldier needs to survive—lift-assisted downhill mountain biking, snowmaking— yet just don’t have the funds to make it happen themselves. “Matt and I are dreamers,” Diane says. “We knew that it could be an issue and wanted to try anyway, but ultimately Soldier needs someone with deeper pockets.” As of press time, it’s unclear what the future holds for Soldier Mountain. In August 2019, a verbal agreement from a prospective buyer fell through, and the ski area is currently listed for sale on Craigslist for $800,000. Will it fall victim to a changing snowsports economy and unreliable snowfalls, or will a deep-pocketed investor bring the necessary capital to elevate Soldier to the four-season resort it needs to become to survive? While it would be sad to see Soldier Mountain wiped off the ever-shortening list of independently owned and operated ski areas, a sorer sight would be watching its lifts close altogether. Such is the reality of riding unapologetic terrain and navi-gating the often-scathing, weather-dependent industry built upon it. Despite approaching with the warmest intentions, this cold cat might bite your finger off. SOLDIER MOUNTAIN 057
The Snowboarder's Journal frequency 17.2: Page 57
