Winter Wonderland By New Hampshire’s Glen House

It’s called “Climb to the Clouds,” one of the oldest auto races in America. Cars race toward the 6,300-foot peak of New Hampshire’s Mt. Washington, the highest peak in the Northeastern U.S.  Nowadays you can also be challenged by a “Ski to the Clouds”—a combo ski/snowshoe and fat bike 10K. Or, you can use my elevation method: sit back in a SnowCoach with the heat blasting as the specially outfitted van slowly climbs through the sub-arctic world to a summit at 4,200 feet for spectacular views. On a clear day, you can see all the way north to Canada, south to New York, and east to the Atlantic Ocean. The SnowCoach is just one of many pleasant surprises that I find in the wintry world surrounding the luxury Glen House Hotel. Skiing one of the longest trails in the Northeast—2.75 miles long at nearby Wildcat Mountain—is another.

Second Greatest Show on Earth

I admit, I initially had low expectations for a SnowCoach experience, thinking it would be little more than a scenic van ride for the non-adventurous. I had to seriously twist the arm of my 18-year-old daughter, an avid skier, to join me. But we find ourselves in one, climbing the private toll road as it ascends through three different alpine climates—northern hardwood forest, boreal forest and, as the trees get sparser and thinner, the tippy-top of the sub-alpine tree line. Along the way, we pass a signpost for the Appalachian Trail, which starts in Georgia and hits Mt. Washington at its most northern points before culminating in Maine.

Reaching the disembarkation point at 4,200 feet, we discover why PT Barnum called this summit the “second greatest show on earth.” The Presidentials are before us, a glorious mountain range with peaks that seem to go on forever, their names following the descending order of their heights and presidential succession: Mt. Washington followed by Mt. Adams, Jefferson, Madison, and so on. From here, some guests opt to snowshoe down the mountain, though our guide warns us about the weather. Mt. Washington is notorious for having some of the “worst weather on Earth” with winds often exceeding 100 mph. Hence, my daughter and I sit back again in our SnowCoach, where my daughter tells me of this tour, “This is a highlight of our trip.” So much for low expectations.

Wildcat Mountain

The next day we hit the slopes of Wildcat Mountain, just a couple miles up the road from the Glen House. Wildcat boasts 48 trails over 225 skiable acres and tops off at 4,100 feet. It’s a fairly compact mountain but has something for everyone with about 50% of trails intermediate, about 30% expert terrain, and the remainder novice slopes including that longest, 2.75-mile run, Polecat Trail. We warm up on that trail before moving on to more challenging terrain, my daughter in search of black diamonds with names like Lynx Lair (lynx are found in these mountains), Hairball, and The Chute.

History Meets Luxury at Glen House

Back at the Glen House, we study the interesting historic photos that adorn the hotel’s public areas. There is so much history to this hotel. Its earliest versions date to the 1850s when a newly completed railway brought guests to this scenic mountain notch. Three times the hotel was lost to fire, but that was long ago. Now, the most modern resort incarnation, completed just a few years ago, features 68 luxury guest rooms and balcony views facing Mt. Washington. Amenities include a saltwater pool, and the Notch Grille, which serves incredibly scrumptious meals. The wild mushroom flatbread, with goat cheese, roasted cauliflower, red onions, and honey drizzle, is so good that I order it two days in a row. My daughter relishes the steak tips in a maple porter BBQ sauce.

Up in our suite, my daughter and I spot tubers spiraling down nearby hills. So, we reserve our tubing spots with Great Glen Trails Outdoor Center (across the street from the Glen House), and we are soon careening down the hills for a fun-filled late afternoon. Atop the hill, we join other tubers around a roaring campfire toasting smores and chatting about where they’re from, which turns out to be everywhere from Ohio to far-off Brazil. Grandpah Rog, as he’s called, is in charge. “My job is to keep the fire going and keep people happy.” And that he does, as everyone seems serenely content in this New Hampshire winter wonderland.