I grew up and still reside in Massachusetts. Yet, I have skied at only two spots in the Bay State: Wachusett Mountain and Nashoba Valley.
I’ve visited Blue Hills, where my son took some truly valuable lessons when he was 3 years old. I have hiked the trails surrounding the ski area countless times. But I’ve never snapped into my own pair of bindings at the popular spot in Canton. I once covered a racing event as a fresh-out-of-college sports reporter at the late Mount Tom in Holyoke. But, in those cash-strapped days, the money normally reserved for a lift ticket simply had to go toward ramen and a loaf of bread.
Odds are that I’m not the only Massachusetts skier who managed to always look north when planning an alpine excursion.
Call it an ignorance of my own backyard, lured in by the bigger fish that lay in waiting in New Hampshire, Vermont and Maine.