The Ski Journal • Volume 15, Issue 2 • DOWNHOME FREE HEEL

Jeff Allott and his Thiokol Spryte snowcat have been laying cord at Otis Mountain, NY since the ’90s. Photo: Sean Platt

It’s World Telemark Day and the rope tow is running at Otis Mountain in the sleepy eastern Adirondack town of Elizabethtown, NY. The early sunshine softens the corduroy Otis’ owner Jeff Allott just laid down, and the March morning holds the first promise of spring. Though the hill doesn’t have lift tickets, a high-speed quad, or even a regular schedule, it does have one card in its back pocket—it has Jeff. The 61-year-old grew up skiing Otis and remains one of the world’s most persuasive tele skiers. In fact, just about all the young people that tele ski in the area started here thanks to Jeff’s stockpile of boots, bindings and skis. He spreads the wisdom of free-heeling to anyone willing to try—free of cost. And once they do, they’re hooked. At Otis, it’s not just about dropping a knee, it’s about the local community that keeps tele skiing alive in this little corner of the ski world. It’s a recognizable one, a crew that once numbered as high as 100 made up of patched Patagonia jackets, sawdust-covered hats and toothy grins all cultivated by the guy running the rope. Jeff may get the credit now, but here’s how the last bastion of tele came to be, in his own words.

My dad was a huge skier. He ended up getting a job at Whiteface, on volunteer patrol through the 1970s, and got picked to be the head of the patrol for the 1980 Lake Placid Olympics. It very quickly went from a part-time passion to a full-time job. He was a ski patroller for nearly 50 years. That’s what I was born into; our religion was skiing. He planted that skiing seed.

The day after my high school graduation I jumped on a motorcycle, a little two-stroke 350, and drove to Boulder. That was the start of my ski bumming around the country; for seven years, I would help lay out and build rental and repair shops, and stay on for the winter running them. I’d come back to the Adirondacks in the summer and work at a local gear shop, the Mountaineer in Keene Valley, and build my log cabin that I still call home today.

I grew up skiing at Otis, and pretty much everything from my first beer to my first kiss happened at Otis. That’s where everybody skied. Working at Otis was my first job; I was the lone ski patroller, I worked the hot dog stand, I did every job. I really connected well with Jane and Herb Hildebrandt, the family who owned it. It closed in 1982. Every year I’d come home and say that someday I would get that ski area going again. In 1994, I moved back to Elizabethtown and bought Otis.

The trees were 10 inches tall on the ski runs; it had grown in from 1982 to 1994. We actually ended up opening the lift that year. It was a huge effort, but people showed up and volunteered equipment and time to make the ski hill run. I’ve been doing that since ’94. We’re now on our third generation of skiers.

It wasn’t at all uncommon to have 75 to 100 people skiing at Otis. Mostly it was the kids racing up and down the hill and the parents socializing, having a beer and cooking food on the grill. We’ve had some spring days that were ridiculous, like Warren Miller level. You could write a whole movie on it; it was such a cool ski scene.

Every year I travel out west to ski tour around the Tetons, or somewhere else with reliable powder skiing. Just before I left we got a big storm in the Adirondacks, and man we had the best Otis day ever. I just took two or three runs and then I manned the rope. That’s where I’m truly happiest. When things are good, the lift is running, the skiing is good, people are loving it, and the grill is full. That’s my heaven.

The Ski Journal - Volume 15, Issue 2

DOWNHOME FREE HEEL

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