Photo by Bob MugglestonEditor Bob Muggleston and his daughter, Abigail, on the slopes. There seems to be a connection between people who enjoy water in both its frozen and liquid states.
Spring 2024
By Bob Muggleston
One thing I’ve noticed over the years working for this magazine is that a large percentage of folks who sail also love to ski. Not to be morbid, but our Final Passages section routinely features sailors who are nearly, if not more, as passionate about skiing as they are sailing. And this is true for many of us who are still alive and working on the magazine. I am headed for Mad River Glen as I write this, hoping to catch an early March surprise storm in Vermont that could potentially deliver up to three feet of snow. Columnist Jack Farrell teaches skiing in Maine, and former columnist David Buckman, who is in his 80’s, still probably logs 100 days or more each season on the slopes of New Hampshire. There’s a symbiosis between sailing and skiing that is undeniable.
I mention this because this morning I heard yet another story about a resort in the Alps that is facing extinction due to a chronic lack of snow. I only know for sure what I observe and would never wade into the climate debate, but I’ve been telling a story throughout this horrible El Niño winter in New England to anyone who will listen: Forty years ago, when I was a kid, my family went to Pico, in Vermont, each Christmas for a week. There was a solid 10-year period around that time in which we did this and the conditions were always amazing. That is, there was always plenty of natural snow. These days? At Mad River Glen, which is an hour north of Pico, and traditionally gets more snow, we’re lucky if there’s anything at all on the ground during the Christmas break. Keep in mind that this is traditionally a week when the mountain makes the lion’s share of its yearly revenue. Yes, there are short- and long-term weather cycles, and we’ll probably only know for sure what’s going on 100 years from now, but to this casual observer something is definitely afoot. Strangely enough, winter in the north country seems to start a month later than it ever did, and finishes strong in March. The car ride I’m on is testament to that. If we get more than a foot out of this storm, this will be the only time Mad River has gotten more than about eight inches out of a storm in 2024. Strange days, indeed.
As an avid sailor who over the years has also noted changes on the water, I’ll point out that here on the Connecticut side of Long Island Sound the lack of wind usually associated with this body of water in summer seems to be a thing of the past. We’re still not Narragansett or Buzzards Bays, two notoriously windy bodies of water, but the long stretches of swimming-pool-flat water in summer seem to be thankfully over. And certainly many of you have noticed that the boating season in general is longer than it used to be. A topic for another log, perhaps.
On a happier note: Was anyone following Cole Brauer, the young American with deep ties to New England who recently crossed the line in second place in the Global Solo Challenge? It was a non-stop, solo circumnavigation via the three capes aboard the Class 40 First Light. Cole is the first American woman to have done this, and she was the only female entrant in the race (and by far the youngest at 29). Most of her competition – at least half of whom will receive DNFs – are older and more experienced Frenchmen, who dominate solo sailing these days. Cole’s story has been picked up by most major news outlets, and rightly so; she is a female star in a profession dominated by men, and at 100 pounds she’s half as big as some of her competition. More importantly, as a friend of mine pointed out, she has provided in the last two months to those watching her many moments of unadulterated joy in this otherwise dour and exceedingly negative news cycle.
And for that we are eternally grateful.
