While many Vermont resorts have great and
innovative kids programs, Samantha and I decided
to test the waters at Smuggs and Okemo last winter,
two resorts with national reputations as great family
hosts. What we learned is that these resorts get rave
reviews not just because of good skiing and riding
programs. To keep kids (and parents) happy, mac &
cheese should be as readily available as pasta with
pesto crème freche, and huge swimming pools filled
with screaming kids are more of an attraction than
a world-class spa. As all parents know, if the kids
aren’t whining—if they actually want to go to their
lessons—we don’t need a massage to relax.
Smugglers’ Notch
The words “ski instructor” might conjure up images
of tan-faced Austrians drill sergeants. “Vhat are
you doing?! Bend ze knees!” But at Smuggs, the
instructors are more like kind kindergarten teachers
or cool camp counselors. One instructor had a Bart
Simpson doll stuffed into his jacket’s chest pocket
(one of his charges sporting a skunk helmet-cover,
the other with a spiked helmet cover).
Samantha’s instructor, Nick Bibbo, 19, was definitely
a cool-counselor type. Already in his sixth year
instructing kids, he handled the class of seven kids
far better than I can handle one daughter.
“Does anyone know how the racers ski?” he asked.
Seven hands shot up, and one by one, off they went,
wiggling their hips side-to-side and carving (mostly),
legs in wide stances, down a beginner trail called
Timberrr! “Good,” Nick said as the class gathered
farther down the trail. “Tip those skis on edge.”
“Who wants to ski in the woods?” he then asked.
Again, seven hands shot up. On the next run,
they stopped at the top of a wide-open glade, and
Nick reminded the kids to “do everything we’ve
learned”—bend their knees, not their waists, and
tip the skis on edge. Down they went, one by one,
making big turns around the trees.
By lunchtime, they had already advanced to a blue
run, and although the kids hadn’t completely left
their wedge turns behind, they made it down the run
without falling (or whining).
At lunch in the Highlands Lodge, the kids sat in a large
airy room dedicated to ski-school classes. Nick loaded
up a tray with a big bowl of mac & cheese and plate of
cheeseburgers. Each base lodge at Smuggs, he says, has
a dedicated ski-school lunchroom, which keeps the kids
together eating the kind of food they like.
After lunch, they skied until 2: 15 p.m., and soon
we headed back to our condo in the new North Hill
development. I had grand hopes of soaking in the
Jacuzzi in the master bath, but Samantha had another
idea. The new aquatic center, with its splashing
fountains, slide, and separate swimming pool, was
calling her name.
In the pool, she was befriended by four older girls,
who let her dive for their sinking ring toys. Trust me
– as good as a Jacuzzi is after skiing, a happy seven-year-old is even better.
After dinner, I thought for sure she would want
to snuggle and read. But who wants to read when
there’s a FunZone to explore? For the next hour, we
wiggled through an inflatable obstacle course. We
played foosball and mini golf. Sam climbed up a
giant inflatable slide—the kind that costs $5 per turn
at the county fair. And had I remembered my wallet,
she could have had her hair braided in corn rows.
By 8: 30 p.m. and long past bedtime, Samantha was
almost falling asleep in the bathtub in the condo. As
I tucked her into bed that night, she asked if she was
going to ski school in the morning.
“If you want to,” I told her.
She nodded, then murmured,
“Mom, I wish we lived here.”
Okemo
On the Friday after President’s Day, Okemo was
hopping. Samantha and I headed for the ski school,
where she was signed up for a private lesson. We quickly
found her instructor, Chris Del Sol, but Samantha,
hiding behind me, wasn’t exactly happy to see him.
“What’s your name?” Del Sol asked, trying to look
behind me.
No response. “Samantha,” I said, hoping to move
things along.
“How old are you?” he tried.
She stuck out her hands on either side of my legs, one
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