It was O-Dark-30 as the patrollers climbed on board a shiny gondola cabin at the base of the new Treasure Mountains ski area. Coffee in hand, plus a copy of the day’s Salt Lake Tribune newspaper to while away the time, they settled in for the long ride to the top of the ridgeline — 11 minutes to the angle station, and 11 more to the summit.
Sixty years after that December 1963 opening, Parkite Jim Tedford still holds strong memories of his time as a 21-year-old ski bum. After he dropped out of college in New York state, his sister encouraged him to join her in Alta. He started at the Peruvian Lodge and then worked alongside the legendary Jim McConkey building the Goldminer’s Daughter. McConkey was headed to the new Park City resort. Tedford asked him if he would put in a good word for a patrol job.
Park City was still a mining town in the early ’60s, but those days were waning. United Park City Mines envisioned moving from silver to snow, obtaining a federal loan in 1961 to build a gondola. The new Treasure Mountains (with an “s” on the end) opened on Dec. 21, 1963, offering a journey in private cabins where you had enough time to develop a relationship, or more.
From the gondola angle station at the base of Silver Queen, the Silver King J-bar pulled you up to the top of Payday. At the upper gondola terminus, you could drop down to the Prospector double-chair, which ran the course of what we know today as Silverlode. Down at the base area, the Tenderfoot J-bar served beginner runs.
The gondola was the only lift out of the base. On windy lift hold days, there was no alternative other than to head over to Bob Burns’ and Otto Carpenter’s Snow Park ski area at what we now call Deer Valley.
Tedford spent 13 years working at Treasure Mountains, which soon became Park City Ski Area. His first stint was on patrol, one of seven patrollers in that first year. He then moved over to become an instructor before heading to Alaska. But Park City always remained in his heart. Three decades later, the lure of lifelong friends and his passion for skiing brought him back for good.
As a patroller, Tedford spent many an early morning lighting fuses on two-pound charges to knock down avalanche slabs. When the new Thaynes lift opened in 1964, avalanche mitigation on Pine Cone Ridge became a priority, with an air-powered avalauncher deployed to jettison the charges across the valley.
“This thing was basically a thrower,” said Tedford. “You pull the igniter, the fuse is burning, you put it in there, shoot air through the thing, and it shoots it up to the mountainside. It probably worked 75% of the time.”
One night in the early years, Tedford and his buddies were sitting in the patrol shack at the base after having swept the mountain when a young man walked in covered in snow. “He says, ‘Hey, my buddy is still up on the mountain.’ We asked him, where? He says, ‘I don’t know, I’ve never skied here before, but it’s really steep.'”
The patrol grabbed a snowcat and toboggan, then headed up to the ridgeline searching Silver Queen, Silver Skis, and The Shaft.
“It’s way dark up there,” said Tedford, who strapped on a headlamp. “And I see this head just bouncing up and down. The kid had been jumping up and down to stay warm and had pounded himself way down in the snow. He yelled out, ‘Hey, where have you guys been?'”
One of his favorite gigs was working night patrol on Payday. At the end of the evening, two patrollers did the sweep, and the third was able to take a speed run. He recalled the nights when he pointed his Head 220s down and was at maximum speed when the lights went out.
Most of all, he just enjoyed the skiing. “We skied a lot!”
Today, Tedford, now 81, admits he’s a fair-weather skier (some simply call it prudent). But every Wednesday he gathers with a group of past instructors and patrollers to make a few turns on the mountain they introduced to the world 60 years ago. They still carve some pretty nice turns into the snow on the good days. And on those flat light mornings, it’s a good opportunity for ski friends to have breakfast together.
His favorite run remains Silver Skis, checking the snow report nearly daily to see when it has been groomed (hint hint).
When asked what skiing has meant to him, his eyes dart back to that magical 1963-64 ski season six decades ago.
“It means freedom,” he said. “It’s your own thing. You can do whatever you want. You can go fast. You can go slow. It’s just the wind in your face.”
Some things never change!