Twenty-five years later, Jigback was retired with a record of dogged reliability for carrying skiers to some of Squaw's most challenging terrain in even the worst of weather conditions.

The Route

These sites aren't sanctioned by any determined faith. They simply provide the subsistence and potential for participating in one of the world's greatest winter playgrounds.

It was at Heavenly's World Cup Run on Sunday, February 10, 1991. Those in attendance saw something they would never forget.

Bill Johnson: "Nosepicker"
Open, raw, with a troubled past and defiant streak that offered no apologies, Bill Johnson's outrageous egotism throughout his career had brought wildly diverse reviews from peers, coaches, and fans. Austria's venerable champion, Franz Klammer, once called the upstart a "nasenbohrer," or nosepicker.

So begins the opening narration of the ski film Daydreams. Shot and edited during the winter and spring of 1974-75 by Tahoe native, Craig Beck, the epic film remains the last un-forked pea on the plate of American ski film making. Highlight's include Greg Beck's (Craig's younger brother) 100-foot-plus jump off the Palisades and Dave Burnham's monstrous 80-foot flip into the wild blue yonder.

It was a surreptitious meeting. While marveling at the array and difficulty of The Chutes, mini-couloirs, and heart stopping fall lines, I rested for a few brief lung-refilling moments. That's when I discovered his kingdom. Secluded in a warren of pines below a steep spine, his picture was tacked to a tree. It was a photo of a young Elvis, the one that launched a thousand screams. Beads and bumper stickers hung around his image. The place had the look and feel of a shrine--a hidden place of worship.

Born August 3, 1918 in Buffalo, New York, the daughter of a textile industrialist, the young debutante grew up in the penthouse of the Sherry Netherlands Hotel in New York City. In 1941 on the ski slopes of Sun Valley, Idaho, Sandy first met her future husband and heard about Palisades Tahoe.

She was attending Smith College when she happened to watch the movie, "Sun Valley Serenade." Enthralled by the film's depiction and its romantic ambiance she bought a train ticket to Idaho and, unescorted, made reservations at the Sun Valley Lodge for a lengthy stay.

He was working in anticipation of several regulars who'd arrive like clockwork with a setting sun on their backs as they pushed through the west-facing, front door.

The rays often fell across the spotless, vintage bar. Placing the pre-chilled stemware in front of all, the bartender strained Beefeaters Gin from the cocktail shaker. It rolled over the plump Jurin olives and into the eager glasses. The customers would thank the bartender, then toast, and, finally, sip heartily what they called "Shadow Martinis." It was pure ceremony.

Ahead of me, Tom Telluride boogied more expertly and enthusiastically, "shaking my assets," he bragged out loud. He had been righteously shaking them since the mid-seventies when we both first moved to Lake Tahoe. It all seems so long ago.

Those were the days before snowboards, cell phones, and SUV's, websites, and the X generation humping on MTV. Back then, Tom and I dated girls who did homework, and we skied a ton. Palisades Tahoe's KT-22, the Headwall, and the Bear Pen bar were our favorite hangs.

An enthusiastic skier since his childhood in Canada, Berry moved to Reno with his wife and family in 1928 to see the West. He found work as a linotype operator at the Nevada State Journal.

First Tow
"My second day out here in December I traveled to Truckee and the ski area at Hilltop," Berry recalled. "I rented a pair of skis made of pine that had a single strap you stuck your booted foot through.