Steamboat Shit Show(rant)

[Tele'ndaboat]

Over 2 hour wait for gondi this morning with the longest line I've seen in 20 years. No social distancing in line at all, so that doesn't explain the length, maybe how long it took to get through the line can be explained by gondi cars not being full, but damn. It was 5" on a 24" base, you'd think we had a 100" base on a 30" powder day.

I mean, I guess this is what happens when you decide to be the only resort without a reservation system during a pandemic. I'm guessing the whole front range showed up today.

Of course Steamboat has had the Gondi live cam "in maintenance" since season opening and has redirected the Christi base cam so you can't actually see the line. There is no way to tell until you show up.

Tried the new "Virtual Gondi line" which put my wait at 390 minutes.

I'm trying not to judge. I'd hate having the job of deciding how a resort is going to operate this year. But if I was a tourist that showed up to Steamboat today, I'd never come back. Those pics of lines from vail on busy days last year. We put that to shame today. I mean Steamboats thin veneer of being the mellow Colorado choice for a big resort with less lines was already falling apart over the last few years. Now it's just been shattered.

Not gonna lie, makes me sad. /End Rant

TL/DR Steamboat out did summit resorts for lines today, all for 5 inches of dust on rocks.

[hatchgreenchile]

Sounds like the virtual gondola line needs a virtual powder day feature!
How far back did the line go?

[chicken feathers]

What a bummer. I could see peoples souls being crushed over the christie cam this am.
Maybe it'll get better in coming years. Not sure how, but I hope so.

[Tele'ndaboat]

Man it snaked its way everywhere, they had it down to the stairs below the truffle pig, then up them through a bunch of maze until the end of the line was out past the old drop off by the transit center.

[Upper]

The Unscrewing of Steamboat, Covid Update:

The Yampa Valley is doomed. The decades-long downhill slide has finally
come to a sad, grievous end, bottoming out in the form of a Hellish Resort. The
Good Ship Lollypop has crashed and shrewd scavengers have stripped it and
reconstituted it into a series of glass fortresses, now manned on all sides by
overeager Marketers, militant Realtors and plump Developers. The Steamboat Idea, that
Realtor Triad now pimped by BMW at the top of Christie lift, is a long-gone fantasy for most former
Mind, Body, and Spiriters, replaced by the New Ethos, the Saslovian threesome of
Ego, Vanity, Gall. All that remains for the working class is a shallow existence
consisting of all manner of noodles, domestic beer, stress, plastic, paranoia, fumes,
overpopulation, covid, stepped-on drugs, blown radiators, natural gas wells, bills,
belittlement, and the occasional high-end trinket, like dinner at Sunpies.
or a night out in Hayden.
Now that the real estate boom has us strangled in its scaly coils, a once vibrant
valley of ski bums, intellectuals, outdoorsmen (and, most importantly,
outdoorswomen), drifters, artists, and entrepreneurs has become virtually
unlivable, except in the rare case of those old-timers who got in before the wagons
circled. Even then, why would any of us want to live in any place bootlicking for a
group of wealthy part-timers or entitled jackasses that are covid relocates that considers its co-inhabitants to be stoned out,
uncaring, inconsequential robots and zombies? What time or energy is left, post-servitude,
to enjoy life to its fullest? To suck the marrow, dance on the edge as was
commonplace for the average Yamper? What time to play in or with the
hills, the streams, and the sunset, the wildlife (including the wild and scarcely seen
outdoorswoman), our neighbors, pets, arts, hobbies and vices? What is the point of
running around trying to catch our own tails each and every day?
What is killing this valley is no secret. It is the most quantum unsaid horror foisted
upon the West since we stole the land from the natives. Overvaluation. Overhyping.
Overbuilding. Overstuffing. Greed. Arrogance. Pride. Audacity. Excess. Gluttony.
When the movie is made, some witty producer will dream up the title -- "Manifest
Destiny 2: The Build Out." The cat got out of the bag about the allure of the
Yampa Valley some years back, and now the human and material flood is
total. Billionaires are kicking millionaires out of South Routt. Orgies of dump trucks
are occurring at all times of the day, on every road, in every town. Local Realtor
Michelle Avery (egad!) was quoted we think in the paper as saying "The $5 million home in
Steamboat is quickly becoming a thing of the past." This is acceptable, apparently.
Pardon me for asking, but just what is the commission on a $6 million pad? Who's in
charge here?
As an endangered local -- hanging on, contributing, trying to play the game, losing,
and wondering what for -- I can see only three decent albeit desperate options for
the citizens of the Yampa Valley:

Option 1: Leave. Stop yer bitching and take off. Vamoose. Hit the dusty trail, Slim.

Find a new place that doesn't suck. Shake it off. Regroup. Order a plate of
normalcy. Pick up and beat feet for the nearest hacienda that has sun, snow,
mountains, deserts, clean water, breathable air, space, sanity. There are places
like that, with nice, normal folks, a living wage, and a sustainable economy, I am
sure. A place to really lay it out there and kick back, again. This was once such a
place, and surely there must be others, one reasons. And I'm not talking.

Option 2: Riot. Take the battle to the hills, to the riverside retreats, to the alleys
and streets of Steamboat, Milner, Hayden, Craig,Kremtucky, Phippstucky and Oak Creek, and so
on. Scare the bejesus out of the elitists who have, until this Last Resort, this
heinous intervention, thrown a shutout at the once-proud, hearty Yampers.
Comrades will steal the SUVS and sports cars and drive them into a large pile in
Little Toots Park, igniting the whole mess with biodiesel made from the McDonald's
grease pits. Young snowboarders will storm the high-end retail stores and throw the
clowns tending shop out into the streets naked, with only codpieces made from the
leather, fur, jewels, and dirt that they hawk. You know the game: essential,
cleansing revolution. Not entirely tolerable for extended periods of time. Taking on
the Man directly is never clean. Troops will descend, and not even the fine Sheriff
will be able to hold them off. Many fine skiers would be lost to jail, death and
forced marches to Grand Junction National Penitentiary Work Camp.

Option 3: A soft revolution. The thinking man's war. A war of attrition. An
insurgency of wit. A YeeeeeeHaaaaaaad! Get inside and turn 'em. Humiliate the
IKON bastards off, back to Texas, Denver, New York, California, and Chicago, Rome,
Geneva, Riyadh. A Campaign of Rudeness. The Unscrewing of Steamboat. This will
require total sacrifice, concentration, and skill to achieve the goal, which is to
remove the Resort title from the place without the irreversible damage associated
with Outright Violence and Hellfire. To return this valley to the common man. Each
and every landscaper, digger, TV reporter, cab driver, baseball coach, convenience
store clerk, politician and waiter will be required to do his or her part: to piss off
the World Class Trash that you come in contact with so much that they have no
option but to leave and slime up some other place, like Vail or Martha's Vineyard.
We should collectively craft out the absolutely worst reputation possible as snobs,
rebels, druggies, insolent boobs, ungrateful hyenas, dangerous criminals, crass and
arrogant class of worker citizens that has ever disgraced this green earth. Like the
French, only a hundred times worse. To survive, we will need to avoid things that
we take for granted, such as personal hygiene, common sense, decency, dignity,
and the occasional sharp retort. There will be friendly fire, so be prepared to take
one for the team. We will all be living on edge until this is over, which could be
years. Have patience comrades, the Rude Attacks will eat through gold and
diamond. The acid wash will be complete. No one will want to live here, let alone
the CEO class. When the Rude War is over, and we are the victors, a signal will be
given, most likely involving a gigantic Epic flag, woven with fine silks and other
linens claimed as spoils of war, and as a community, we will rally at the T-Bar and take down the Timber and Torch
board by board and build a village of ski chalets and cabins. One of the first
acts as a community will be the mass skinny-dipping at Strawberry Park, where we
will swim. The land will be worth nothing, nobody who's anybody will want to live here. Ullr willing. Sanity will rule.
The $5 million house will soon become a thing of the past.

[North]

But if I was a tourist that showed up to Steamboat today, I'd never come back.

Bummer for the local crowd. I will not weep for the tourist whose pandemic vacation has been ruined by...a pandemic.

[Tele'ndaboat]

The Unscrewing of Steamboat, Covid Update:

...
The land will be worth nothing, nobody who's anybody will want to live here. Ullr willing. Sanity will rule.
The $5 million house will soon become a thing of the past.

How long you been writing that? Saving it for the perfect thread? If not, glad I could spur your cathartic moment.(No offense meant, just playful ribbing)

I mean, option 1 just turns us into the assholes that ruined our town. Don't kid yourself it doesn't. You're the FFR(Fucking Front Ranger) now.

[buttahflake]

The Unscrewing of Steamboat, Covid Update:

The Yampa Valley is doomed. The decades-long downhill slide has finally
come to a sad, grievous end, bottoming out in the form of a Hellish Resort. The
Good Ship Lollypop has crashed and shrewd scavengers have stripped it and
reconstituted it into a series of glass fortresses, now manned on all sides by
overeager Marketers, militant Realtors and plump Developers. The Steamboat Idea, that
Realtor Triad now pimped by BMW at the top of Christie lift, is a long-gone fantasy for most former
Mind, Body, and Spiriters, replaced by the New Ethos, the Saslovian threesome of
Ego, Vanity, Gall. All that remains for the working class is a shallow existence
consisting of all manner of noodles, domestic beer, stress, plastic, paranoia, fumes,
overpopulation, covid, stepped-on drugs, blown radiators, natural gas wells, bills,
belittlement, and the occasional high-end trinket, like dinner at Sunpies.
or a night out in Hayden.
Now that the real estate boom has us strangled in its scaly coils, a once vibrant
valley of ski bums, intellectuals, outdoorsmen (and, most importantly,
outdoorswomen), drifters, artists, and entrepreneurs has become virtually
unlivable, except in the rare case of those old-timers who got in before the wagons
circled. Even then, why would any of us want to live in any place bootlicking for a
group of wealthy part-timers or entitled jackasses that are covid relocates that considers its co-inhabitants to be stoned out,
uncaring, inconsequential robots and zombies? What time or energy is left, post-servitude,
to enjoy life to its fullest? To suck the marrow, dance on the edge as was
commonplace for the average Yamper? What time to play in or with the
hills, the streams, and the sunset, the wildlife (including the wild and scarcely seen
outdoorswoman), our neighbors, pets, arts, hobbies and vices? What is the point of
running around trying to catch our own tails each and every day?
What is killing this valley is no secret. It is the most quantum unsaid horror foisted
upon the West since we stole the land from the natives. Overvaluation. Overhyping.
Overbuilding. Overstuffing. Greed. Arrogance. Pride. Audacity. Excess. Gluttony.
When the movie is made, some witty producer will dream up the title -- "Manifest
Destiny 2: The Build Out." The cat got out of the bag about the allure of the
Yampa Valley some years back, and now the human and material flood is
total. Billionaires are kicking millionaires out of South Routt. Orgies of dump trucks
are occurring at all times of the day, on every road, in every town. Local Realtor
Michelle Avery (egad!) was quoted we think in the paper as saying "The $5 million home in
Steamboat is quickly becoming a thing of the past." This is acceptable, apparently.
Pardon me for asking, but just what is the commission on a $6 million pad? Who's in
charge here?
As an endangered local -- hanging on, contributing, trying to play the game, losing,
and wondering what for -- I can see only three decent albeit desperate options for
the citizens of the Yampa Valley:

Option 1: Leave. Stop yer bitching and take off. Vamoose. Hit the dusty trail, Slim.

Find a new place that doesn't suck. Shake it off. Regroup. Order a plate of
normalcy. Pick up and beat feet for the nearest hacienda that has sun, snow,
mountains, deserts, clean water, breathable air, space, sanity. There are places
like that, with nice, normal folks, a living wage, and a sustainable economy, I am
sure. A place to really lay it out there and kick back, again. This was once such a
place, and surely there must be others, one reasons. And I'm not talking.

Option 2: Riot. Take the battle to the hills, to the riverside retreats, to the alleys
and streets of Steamboat, Milner, Hayden, Craig,Kremtucky, Phippstucky and Oak Creek, and so
on. Scare the bejesus out of the elitists who have, until this Last Resort, this
heinous intervention, thrown a shutout at the once-proud, hearty Yampers.
Comrades will steal the SUVS and sports cars and drive them into a large pile in
Little Toots Park, igniting the whole mess with biodiesel made from the McDonald's
grease pits. Young snowboarders will storm the high-end retail stores and throw the
clowns tending shop out into the streets naked, with only codpieces made from the
leather, fur, jewels, and dirt that they hawk. You know the game: essential,
cleansing revolution. Not entirely tolerable for extended periods of time. Taking on
the Man directly is never clean. Troops will descend, and not even the fine Sheriff
will be able to hold them off. Many fine skiers would be lost to jail, death and
forced marches to Grand Junction National Penitentiary Work Camp.

Option 3: A soft revolution. The thinking man's war. A war of attrition. An
insurgency of wit. A YeeeeeeHaaaaaaad! Get inside and turn 'em. Humiliate the
IKON bastards off, back to Texas, Denver, New York, California, and Chicago, Rome,
Geneva, Riyadh. A Campaign of Rudeness. The Unscrewing of Steamboat. This will
require total sacrifice, concentration, and skill to achieve the goal, which is to
remove the Resort title from the place without the irreversible damage associated
with Outright Violence and Hellfire. To return this valley to the common man. Each
and every landscaper, digger, TV reporter, cab driver, baseball coach, convenience
store clerk, politician and waiter will be required to do his or her part: to piss off
the World Class Trash that you come in contact with so much that they have no
option but to leave and slime up some other place, like Vail or Martha's Vineyard.
We should collectively craft out the absolutely worst reputation possible as snobs,
rebels, druggies, insolent boobs, ungrateful hyenas, dangerous criminals, crass and
arrogant class of worker citizens that has ever disgraced this green earth. Like the
French, only a hundred times worse. To survive, we will need to avoid things that
we take for granted, such as personal hygiene, common sense, decency, dignity,
and the occasional sharp retort. There will be friendly fire, so be prepared to take
one for the team. We will all be living on edge until this is over, which could be
years. Have patience comrades, the Rude Attacks will eat through gold and
diamond. The acid wash will be complete. No one will want to live here, let alone
the CEO class. When the Rude War is over, and we are the victors, a signal will be
given, most likely involving a gigantic Epic flag, woven with fine silks and other
linens claimed as spoils of war, and as a community, we will rally at the T-Bar and take down the Timber and Torch
board by board and build a village of ski chalets and cabins. One of the first
acts as a community will be the mass skinny-dipping at Strawberry Park, where we
will swim. The land will be worth nothing, nobody who's anybody will want to live here. Ullr willing. Sanity will rule.
The $5 million house will soon become a thing of the past.

Wow, fucking so well said.
Keep on

[westoxified]

Ahhh the shallow existence of stepped-on drugs. Too funny.

You just made my day Upper.

[mmmm...pow!]

Dear Mr. (or Ms.) Upper,
So sorry for your loss. We send our condolences.

Sincerely,
The residents of Jackson, Aspen, Tahoe, Telluride, Breckenridge, Park City, Whistler, and pretty much every other ski town

[John_B]

Fucking well done Upper!

[Benny Profane]

The Unscrewing of Steamboat, Covid Update:

The Yampa Valley is doomed. The decades-long downhill slide has finally
come to a sad, grievous end, bottoming out in the form of a Hellish Resort. The
Good Ship Lollypop has crashed and shrewd scavengers have stripped it and
reconstituted it into a series of glass fortresses, now manned on all sides by
overeager Marketers, militant Realtors and plump Developers. The Steamboat Idea, that
Realtor Triad now pimped by BMW at the top of Christie lift, is a long-gone fantasy for most former
Mind, Body, and Spiriters, replaced by the New Ethos, the Saslovian threesome of
Ego, Vanity, Gall. All that remains for the working class is a shallow existence
consisting of all manner of noodles, domestic beer, stress, plastic, paranoia, fumes,
overpopulation, covid, stepped-on drugs, blown radiators, natural gas wells, bills,
belittlement, and the occasional high-end trinket, like dinner at Sunpies.
or a night out in Hayden.
Now that the real estate boom has us strangled in its scaly coils, a once vibrant
valley of ski bums, intellectuals, outdoorsmen (and, most importantly,
outdoorswomen), drifters, artists, and entrepreneurs has become virtually
unlivable, except in the rare case of those old-timers who got in before the wagons
circled. Even then, why would any of us want to live in any place bootlicking for a
group of wealthy part-timers or entitled jackasses that are covid relocates that considers its co-inhabitants to be stoned out,
uncaring, inconsequential robots and zombies? What time or energy is left, post-servitude,
to enjoy life to its fullest? To suck the marrow, dance on the edge as was
commonplace for the average Yamper? What time to play in or with the
hills, the streams, and the sunset, the wildlife (including the wild and scarcely seen
outdoorswoman), our neighbors, pets, arts, hobbies and vices? What is the point of
running around trying to catch our own tails each and every day?
What is killing this valley is no secret. It is the most quantum unsaid horror foisted
upon the West since we stole the land from the natives. Overvaluation. Overhyping.
Overbuilding. Overstuffing. Greed. Arrogance. Pride. Audacity. Excess. Gluttony.
When the movie is made, some witty producer will dream up the title -- "Manifest
Destiny 2: The Build Out." The cat got out of the bag about the allure of the
Yampa Valley some years back, and now the human and material flood is
total. Billionaires are kicking millionaires out of South Routt. Orgies of dump trucks
are occurring at all times of the day, on every road, in every town. Local Realtor
Michelle Avery (egad!) was quoted we think in the paper as saying "The $5 million home in
Steamboat is quickly becoming a thing of the past." This is acceptable, apparently.
Pardon me for asking, but just what is the commission on a $6 million pad? Who's in
charge here?
As an endangered local -- hanging on, contributing, trying to play the game, losing,
and wondering what for -- I can see only three decent albeit desperate options for
the citizens of the Yampa Valley:

Option 1: Leave. Stop yer bitching and take off. Vamoose. Hit the dusty trail, Slim.

Find a new place that doesn't suck. Shake it off. Regroup. Order a plate of
normalcy. Pick up and beat feet for the nearest hacienda that has sun, snow,
mountains, deserts, clean water, breathable air, space, sanity. There are places
like that, with nice, normal folks, a living wage, and a sustainable economy, I am
sure. A place to really lay it out there and kick back, again. This was once such a
place, and surely there must be others, one reasons. And I'm not talking.

Option 2: Riot. Take the battle to the hills, to the riverside retreats, to the alleys
and streets of Steamboat, Milner, Hayden, Craig,Kremtucky, Phippstucky and Oak Creek, and so
on. Scare the bejesus out of the elitists who have, until this Last Resort, this
heinous intervention, thrown a shutout at the once-proud, hearty Yampers.
Comrades will steal the SUVS and sports cars and drive them into a large pile in
Little Toots Park, igniting the whole mess with biodiesel made from the McDonald's
grease pits. Young snowboarders will storm the high-end retail stores and throw the
clowns tending shop out into the streets naked, with only codpieces made from the
leather, fur, jewels, and dirt that they hawk. You know the game: essential,
cleansing revolution. Not entirely tolerable for extended periods of time. Taking on
the Man directly is never clean. Troops will descend, and not even the fine Sheriff
will be able to hold them off. Many fine skiers would be lost to jail, death and
forced marches to Grand Junction National Penitentiary Work Camp.

Option 3: A soft revolution. The thinking man's war. A war of attrition. An
insurgency of wit. A YeeeeeeHaaaaaaad! Get inside and turn 'em. Humiliate the
IKON bastards off, back to Texas, Denver, New York, California, and Chicago, Rome,
Geneva, Riyadh. A Campaign of Rudeness. The Unscrewing of Steamboat. This will
require total sacrifice, concentration, and skill to achieve the goal, which is to
remove the Resort title from the place without the irreversible damage associated
with Outright Violence and Hellfire. To return this valley to the common man. Each
and every landscaper, digger, TV reporter, cab driver, baseball coach, convenience
store clerk, politician and waiter will be required to do his or her part: to piss off
the World Class Trash that you come in contact with so much that they have no
option but to leave and slime up some other place, like Vail or Martha's Vineyard.
We should collectively craft out the absolutely worst reputation possible as snobs,
rebels, druggies, insolent boobs, ungrateful hyenas, dangerous criminals, crass and
arrogant class of worker citizens that has ever disgraced this green earth. Like the
French, only a hundred times worse. To survive, we will need to avoid things that
we take for granted, such as personal hygiene, common sense, decency, dignity,
and the occasional sharp retort. There will be friendly fire, so be prepared to take
one for the team. We will all be living on edge until this is over, which could be
years. Have patience comrades, the Rude Attacks will eat through gold and
diamond. The acid wash will be complete. No one will want to live here, let alone
the CEO class. When the Rude War is over, and we are the victors, a signal will be
given, most likely involving a gigantic Epic flag, woven with fine silks and other
linens claimed as spoils of war, and as a community, we will rally at the T-Bar and take down the Timber and Torch
board by board and build a village of ski chalets and cabins. One of the first
acts as a community will be the mass skinny-dipping at Strawberry Park, where we
will swim. The land will be worth nothing, nobody who's anybody will want to live here. Ullr willing. Sanity will rule.
The $5 million house will soon become a thing of the past.

Did you compose that in the gondi line?

[Benny Profane]

Where are all of these people eating?

[Jack Burton]

:-), like this one for levity but not for the skiers. Here's to the open ski hills making it through the year

[Lone Star]

just imagine how bad it will be over the holidays.

[Phall]

The Unscrewing of Steamboat, Covid Update:

Ed Fuckin Abbey Lives.

[Toadman]

Option 4 - Deal with it. And hope in a decade the gold plating of the great outdoor lifestyle wears off, and people start moving back to cities.

[singlecross]

Sanity will rule.

Colorado Freak Power died with HST... But you should run for Sheriff. You'd have my vote.

[billyk]

Not that familiar with Steamboat. Is there no other way to get up the mountain besides the gondola?

[Wookiee]

Not that familiar with Steamboat. Is there no other way to get up the mountain besides the gondola?

Steamboat was jam packed on a random weekend back in 2017. I was raving to my wife that steamboat was going to be great as I went a couple years earlier and it felt empty and still had some charm. Can’t imagine what it is like now; the mountain layout cant support that many people all starting at the same time.

[Bunion 2020]

A skier bitching that a widely liked ski area is crowded over the Christmas Holidays and is having a problem dealing with a pandemic. You cannot make this shit up.

[The SnowShow]

Wow no way would I bother.

[Danno]

Not that familiar with Steamboat. Is there no other way to get up the mountain besides the gondola?

There are other ways, but not easy ways. It's Steamboat's fatal flaw. Well, that and the fact that it's not very steep.

[Toadman]

Nothing will change as long as people are willing to wait in hour long lines to ski the 'boat. Glad I skied there back in the day when there were no lift lines, and there was untracked for days after a storm. Heck, even 10 years ago, I remember skiing powder stashes in the trees a day after a storm. As they say, "those days are over."

[hatchgreenchile]

I blame all the FM Light signs.
Havne't ridden there much in the past few years, but its always been one of my favorite places to find deep snow.