Called White Wolf, the 460-acre parcel he secured in 1989 lies between Alpine Meadows and Palisades Tahoe. It includes 75 acres within the Palisades Tahoe Ski Corp boundaries. Since 1990 Squaw has rented the land from Caldwell. In November 2000, after a decade of legal haggling with his neighbors, Caldwell obtained a conditional use permit to install a ski lift on his land from the Placer County Planning Commission. The permit stipulated that:
--Only 25 skiers could use the lift per day.
--Caldwell could not sell tickets.
--There can be no access from the Palisades Tahoe ridge.
--Every guest would be required to have certified avalanche training.

Although the county's approval had specified that the chair would not set the stage for future development of the property, Caldwell remained optimistic.

Originally, the former pro, freestyle skier hoped to connect Palisades Tahoe and Alpine Meadows with his ski area, a dream of local skiers for decades.

"It simply didn't work out politically," says Caldwell, 54, who lives with his wife Suzie in the house he built at the bottom of his private slopes that stretch for a mile along Alpine Meadows Road.

He also looked into the idea of a bed & breakfast and sub-dividing the property into private home sites. His ideas met with more obstacles than a slalom course. The Bear Creek Homeowners Association, made up of Alpine Meadows residents, filed appeals to the permit because they saw the development as non-compatible with their residential area. The Alpine Meadows Ski area also appealed the conditional use permit for the chair lift.

Undeterred, Caldwell pursued his dream of a private ski area for family and friends. After successfully fighting Bear Creek's appeal in the California's Supreme Court, both Palisades Tahoe and Alpine Meadows softened their outlook on the project. Palisades Tahoe Ski Corp. owner, Alex Cushing, even went on record stating: "One of my biggest disappointments has been not getting an interconnect with Alpine. Now Troy wants to do it and I want to help him."

Caldwell hoped to exchange a part of his property, including the top terminal area of KT-22, for Palisades Tahoe's aging Headwall Triple Chair that was taken off the upper mountain in 2001 and replaced with a detachable six-passenger chairlift. When that deal fell through the ambitious developer set about designing and manufacturing his own triple chairlift.

With the help of friends within the ski industry Caldwell fabricated steel towers as well as cross arms, terminals, and other components in his parking lot. Because his permit also stipulated that he couldn't use heavy equipment on his property or remove natural vegetation during construction, Caldwell, along with close to 30 on and off again volunteers, hand dug tower foundations. All constructed materials and cement were hauled and backpacked up rugged terrain.

In November of 2004, early snowfall didn't detract Caldwell. Aided by a hired helicopter, he and his team set the towers, pouring by hand the 16 tower foundations as well as the top and bottom terminals. The lift travels up an area behind the West Gully ridge with a vertical rise of 1,123 feet. Its top terminal at 8,000 feet is situated less than a snowball's toss from the KT-22's top terminal.

He hoped to start operating his lift sometime in the 2005-06 winter season while manufacturing sheave assemblies and the chairs for the lift and building the F-frame for the top bull wheel in his garage.

Completion of his chair was stalled during the summer of 2005 when Palisades Tahoe Ski Corp. filed a lawsuit against the entrepreneur. Although neither Ski Corp nor Caldwell will comment on the lawsuit, there are suggestions the litigation surrounds the original exchange agreement signed in 1998.

"The lawsuit hasn't stopped me from continuing construction of the chair," says Caldwell. " Because of money concerns in battling the litigation I've had to slow down the process. I'd really hoped to get it to go last fall, but that didn't happen."

Even after the latest roadblock, Caldwell continues to believe that one-day his chairlift will rise.

"I've tried being straight with people. I never wanted to create battle lines," Caldwell says. "I have good intentions and I believe completely that the chair will bring good things to the area. White Wolf has so much potential. It would be silly to turn back after everything we've overcome. Hopefully something will work out and we all can live in peace in the neighborhood." Maybe so...with a little help from his friends.