Like many longtime cross-country skiers who read everything they can get their hands on about where to go, I’ve seen at least a dozen articles about California’s Royal Gorge, self-described as “North America’s Largest Cross-country Ski Resort.” Having visited almost every major Nordic area in North America and numerous ones overseas””and having watched Royal Gorge grow from infant to adult””I think its motto should be changed to the “Greatest Cross-country Ski Area in the World.”

Okay, that’s going to raise some hackles, but it’s not an arbitrary assessment. And John Slouber, who founded and still runs the resort, doesn’t share my opinion. As a skier and ski area planner, I agree the resort isn’t perfect (it can rain buckets around Soda Springs, it can snow so much that the groomed trails are like canyons between huge snowbanks, you have a real climb to get back to one a trailhead, there can be major crowds on the weekends . . . ). But overall, it’s marvelous and amazing and unprecedented. Let’s see if I can make my case.

The Issue of Bigness
Almost all of those articles follow the same theme (“This Place is Huge!”) with sub-sets: It’s California, which never does things by halves; there’s an unbelievable amount of snow; it’s cutting-edge with monster grooming machines, big trailside hotels, and all kinds of facilities. Oh yeah, and there are many, many skiers wearing very stylish clothing (“spandex” is a favourite word of many of these writers).

Well, yes, the first thing that strikes you when skiing there or looking at a trail map or even from a chance conversation is that it’s enormous. Royal Gorge is the largest (330 kilometres) and most popular (100,000 or more visitors each winter) cross-country area in North America. It spreads out over 14 square miles (about 36 square kilometres) of Donner Summit, on the crest of the Sierra. There’s 500 inches/1,270 centimetres of snow in a typical year, and you’ll see the biggest grooming fleet in the Nordic world (five enormous Canadian-made Bombardier snowcats), two lodges, four surface lifts, 15 kilometres of snowmaking trails, 90 trails, 10 warming huts, four cafes, 160 employees, almost 900 pairs of state-of-the-art Fischer skis . . .

Just by itself, the trail system is astounding. Last February, I saw (and heard) a fellow at one of the trailhead map boards just shake his head and say, “I’ve been here for three days and haven’t even been able to scratch the place.”

Growing Pains
There are many great Nordic areas in the U.S. and Canada that are large (Methow Valley, Sun Valley, Anchorage, and Mont-Sainte-Anne come to mind). So I’m not sure how much the immensity of Royal Gorge and its data would mean without things such as quality and consistency. Statistics are marketing tools as well as skiing realities, but they don’t give you a feel for the place””the human element, why longtimers have returned for literally decades, is how Royal Gorge became a legend. So having once worked there and visited most winters and talked with guests and staff for more than 30 years, maybe I can explain””and share””my respect and affection for the place.

Royal Gorge began on a shoestring. It’s the creation of a guy who grew up in the small towns of Nevada City and Grass Valley, in the western foothills of the Sierra. He intuited the region’s potential (just off Interstate 80 between Sacramento and Reno), dreaming about such an operation back in the days when there was barely any track-setting in North America.

Slouber started the area in 1971 at a leased backwoods Boy Scout lodge, three miles from the nearest paved road. He gathered a half-dozen other employees from an outdoor shop in Berkeley where he was a manager (The Ski Hut, which became almost mythical in the ski, climbing, and backpacking industries). All were skiers, enjoyed people, and shared a vision (yeah, hokey, but true) of creating something new: a Nordic ski resort.

Wilderness Lodge””aka “Wildy”””facilities were (to be charitable) primitive. Food had to be hauled in by sled, and garbage out; you skied in with guides breaking trail, sometimes in five feet of fresh snow; and there was no hot water””in fact, no running water. Cots in the sleeping loft creaked, you brought your own sleeping bag, and after a day of skiing, the wood-fired sauna was a godsend. Experienced visitors just hoped their cars wouldn’t be buried under snow so that they’d have to be shoveled out (staff put in most, but not all, of the labour) by the end of the weekend.

Royal Gorge continued on that basis for a couple of years, adding a rental/retail shop and offering day lessons in the town of Soda Springs, a mile or so from Wilderness Lodge parking. There were more skiers each winter, but not enough to make it a thriving business.Then Slouber introduced tracks (remember, these were pre-skating days), using a small Polaris Electra snowmobile and a homemade track sled that was designed by Olympic skier Bob Gray. All trails led to the lodge, and grooming involved a driver, someone to sit on the track sled, and a third body to ski-in (compress) the tracks and help dig out the snowmobile every few hundred yards.

The skiing product wasn’t great, but people loved it, though some purists angrily waved poles when they came upon the labouring snowmobile. But that changed a year later when Royal Gorge started to groom with a snowcat.

The first winter of grooming, a voluntary donation was requested””proceeds financed a very modest post-season staff party. Curiously, people took grooming much more seriously once there was a trail fee.

New Dimensions
And the rest, as they say, is history. Slouber wanted to create a service-based cross-country ski area, the Nordic equivalent of a downhill resort. He succeeded, and the scale of growth is mind-boggling.

The trick wasn’t just to expand the trail system, but to also create complementary facilities. For example, adults may be physically able to ski 15 miles in an afternoon, but it’s going to be a short day if they have children who are exhausted after an hour. So Royal Gorge introduced wood-and-glass warming huts. They’re mini-destinations at major intersections and viewpoints, and skiers use them to rendezvous, socialize, rest, laze on a cold day, have lunch, or take photos. They’re also great for kids to recuperate and to scarf down some tea (courtesy of the resort).

Surface lifts are another unique feature. They have double functions: to get you up hills that might prove to be the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back (there’s about 1,700 feet/520 metres of vertical change on the track systems) and to invite you to play””and learn control””on downhills. Lifts are also incorporated into the ski school.

Wildy
The Wilderness Lodge has changed too. Now, instead of skiing there, you’re carried in sleighs pulled by snowcats. Where once a tin roof whistled in a breeze and dusty walls were carved with the initials of generations of Boy Scouts, there’s a handsome rustic retreat with private rooms, buffets so lavish you figure the tables must be groaning, comfortable beds, lounges””and running water. There are even two elegant log cabins with their own fireplaces and Jacuzzis.

People love the lodge. I skied last year with the Animal Slipper group (they wear animal slippers indoors and sometimes over their ski boots). It was a hoot! Organizer Judy Brown, from the Sacramento area, told me that “I’ve skied here exclusively for about 22 years.” A core group of 20 or so women come back””some of them for the past 25 winters””for the skiing, friendships, atmosphere, and accommodations. Or as one explained (numerous times), “I’m here for the lunch.” Incidentally, they’ve re-booked for late next February.

Making It All Tick
The two things making Royal Gorge one-of-a-kind are the trails and the staff. The resort provides incredible skiing. Trails flow over and down ridges, above waterfalls, around peaks and lakes. And the grooming is the best around. Slouber says, “Today, we control the surface of the snow so well that we can pretty much guarantee the same quality of experience each time,” come snow or shine.

Secondly, while trails and snowcats have gotten bigger, the quality of the staff””who make it all go round””remains amazingly consistent. When you meet someone in a Royal Gorge uniform, you’re most likely going to encounter an Australian, South African, Swiss, Swedish, or Norwegian accent. And you can bet they’re hard-working, hospitable, talented, and that they love snow country. Staff, skiing, programs, facilities, and ingenuity . . . ladies and gentleman, I rest my case.