When you think of Indiana, it is natural to think of corn fields, the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, or perhaps nothing at all. But, tucked away in the Northwest region of Indiana, Pines Peak–or “the Pines,” as us locals affectionately called it, was our unlikely ski playground.
Located in Valparaiso, Indiana, The Pines was over 100 miles from the nearest resort, Bittersweet. It was a humble operation–9-trails, a single fixed-grip quad, a tow rope, and a modest terrain park. But for those who strapped-in and ripped down all 151 vertical feet, we were the lucky ones. This place wasn’t just a ski hill; it was a community. The spirit of skiing permeated from the Ski Patrollers keeping an eye on us, to the lodge kitchen cooks serving up those legendary, hot crinkle cut fries. We had everything that truly mattered.
The year I learned to ski, Northwest Indiana was absolutely dumped on with an exceptional amount of lake effect snow. A gift from Lake Michigan. I still remember my trail of seventy-nine days worth of lift tickets dragging from my zipper to my boots–a testament to that winter of pure magic. My family’s friendship with the owner was a golden ticket; my sister and I always had a ride. The owner’s son and I, who also happened to be large, were the two heaviest wrestlers on our middle school team, were partners at practice. But on the hill, we were fierce competitors, challenging each other to go the fastest, get the biggest air, and, naturally, scare our parents the most.
For us “Region Rats” (as the rest of the state calls us), the Pines wasn’t just a hill– it was where we forged our passion. We never focused on what we lacked; we were simply overjoyed by the opportunity to enjoy the sport that we loved. The rhythmic clanking of the slow chairlift, the lifties cranking “Queens of the Stoneage” on the speakers, and the occasional yard sale we all took are the core memories built on that slope.Â
Sadly, in 2008, after a few low-snow winters, the music stopped. The owner had to close Pines Peak. Over time, it has fallen into disrepair, with nature slowly reclaiming the slopes. The Pines may be mostly abandoned now, overgrown with brush and trees, but for those of us who grew up there, the grassroots magic of Pines Peak remains unforgettable.
