Heart of the empire: In Vail, a tightly-knit community is hidden beneath extravagance

Vail Mountain offers 195 trails, 32 lifts and a vertical rise of 3,450 feet. (Vail Resorts)

I walked through the sliding glass doors at The Hythe, a recently-renovated, upscale hotel in Lionshead Village in Vail, Colorado, greeted by a sense of luxury seldom found around my more modest hometown of North Conway, N.H. 

A towering, 360-degree gas fireplace stood in the center of the lobby, surrounded by wood-paneled walls that struck the perfect balance between rustic and modern. Fur blankets spread over leather couches, instilling a sense of coziness, while the marble landing at the base of the floating stairs highlighted the architectural creativity that went into the design. Upon entry, guests were greeted with a cold glass of champagne and a concierge service ready to cater to their every want and need.

Scattered throughout the hotel was a collection of photographs, art and artifacts — such as a display of old skis and tools used by the 10th Mountain Division during World War II — that pay homage to both Vail’s history and modern-day culture, alluding to a deeper theme beyond aprés-ski bars and fine dining.

This was my first time visiting Vail, and my initial experience was representative of the town I had envisioned — a glamorous haven catered to financially well-off individuals looking to vacation in the shadows of a world-class ski hill. As I explored, I saw a place where visitors take a few runs in the morning, getting the perfect shot for their social media accounts before spending their afternoons and evenings sipping hot, boozy cocktails at one of the many aprés bars and sampling dishes at the various European-style restaurants.

But as my time in Vail progressed, I discovered a tightly knit community of skiers and riders — many who migrated west from the East Coast in search of deep powder and big mountains — hidden beneath the facade of Swiss- and Austrian-inspired hotels, chalets and restaurants.

“Vail is filled with people who have dedicated themselves to living in a place they love,” said Ben Hilley, the brand experience manager for the ski and snowboard company Weston. Hilley has spent the past 15 years living around Vail. “We’ve all left our 9-to-5 jobs and our families to be here. I think that connects us all. Not to mention, the Vail community is one of the most welcoming and inviting local populations out of any mountain town, whether it’s chatting on the lift, at the bar, or showing you their favorite runs.”

Unlike many of Colorado’s old mining towns like Breckenridge, Telluride and Crested Butte, which have evolved to become popular ski towns, Vail initially was founded with the sole intent of being a ski-forward destination. The result is a walkable, luxurious town designed entirely around the sport of skiing and the associated aprés scene that often comes with it. And while that luxurious aspect does draw a specific type of person, there’s a second community that keeps Vail’s deeply rooted ski culture alive.

“When I talk about community, I’m talking about the employees,” Hilley said. “You’ll meet valets and bartenders with master’s degrees. But they also make up different clubs and crews that always go out riding together. That’s what’s kept me here.”

Officially opened in 1962 by two World War II veterans — Pete Seibert, a New Englander who served in the 10th Mountain Division, and Earl Eaton, a veteran, uranium prospector and adventurer from Colorado — the Vail resort was born from a vision to create the perfect North American ski area.

Just after the war, the two veterans crossed paths while ski bumming around Aspen. They eventually discovered their shared goal of finding and founding a ski mecca in the state. Having trained with the 10th Mountain Division in the mountains surrounding what eventually would become Vail, Seibert largely was familiar with traveling by ski through the region, as was Eaton, who grew up adventuring in the mountains.

On March 19, 1957, the two attached skins to their skis and began a climb toward the summit of what is now known as Vail Mountain. They were stunned by the vast landscape and skiable terrain that they could see from the top. The wheels had been set in motion for the development of a world-class ski resort.

Through the years, the resort pushed the boundaries of the ski industry, becoming the first place to build a gondola in the U.S., and eventually climbed to gain its reputation as the pinnacle of all North American ski destinations. Today, the resort and town continue to live up to their reputations, drawing visitors from around the world to ski the famed Back Bowls and wander from bar to bar in the shadows of the resort’s pistes.

But those who make an effort to dig deeper will find a vibrant community hidden beneath the fur boot-wielding tourists and expensive cocktail bars, one that is similar to some of New England’s own ski communities.

Hilley met me at the base of the Eagle Bahn Gondola one morning to show me around the resort, which was blanketed by a solid 8 inches of snow from the night before.

“I was able to move some meetings around,” Hilley said as he approached the gondola, in typical ski bum-turned-professional fashion. “But I would call this a professional development day anyway.”

As we lapped different zones, I noted that Hilley seemed to know many of the employees and a number of other riders around the mountain, revealing this unknown-to-me local community of skiers, riders, lifties, bartenders and service workers. By the end of the day, our initially small group had grown to at least a dozen snowboarders, all hooting and hollering as we ripped through their favorite glades.

Many of the people I spent the day riding with had been strangers just a few hours prior. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of familiarity, reminiscent of spending powder days at New Hampshire’s Wildcat Mountain, where running into friends and sharing beers in the parking lot is almost a guarantee.

At night, I wandered into a small bar — the Bad Kitty Lounge — with the other writers, content creators and industry professionals I was traveling with, in search of the local aprés-ski scene I had hoped to find. Patrons stood around the bar drinking Budweisers and PBRs, some with their goggles still on over their hats, despite it being nearly 11 at night.

Between my day on the mountain, riding powder, chatting with local mountain and bar employees around town, and discovering a local night scene where lifties, ski bums and bartenders all gather to share stories from their day, I had found the community I assumed had been displaced by wealth and tourism. In hindsight, it’s no surprise that beneath the facade of fancy hotels and restaurants, often frequented by, and posted about by, celebrities, lies a modest and vibrant community of ski bums and ski professionals that make the resort and mountain tick — just like the mountain towns of New England and beyond.

Getting there

For New Englanders, getting to Vail couldn’t be much simpler, with direct flights from Boston to Denver and the Epic Mountain Express servicing the town (and all Vail-owned ski resorts) directly from the airport.

Once in Vail, there are a number of shuttles and buses that eliminate the need for a rental car, although the town is fairly walkable.

The nearby town of Eagle also is home to an airport with service from New England, although many of these flights are a bit more costly and incorporate lengthy layovers.

Josh Laskin can be reached at [email protected].