My last visit to Mount Frontenac, until this trip. Note Y2K bug of sorts.
Frontenac, Minnesota, July 18 — So much about this feels wrong.
I am driving uphill on what used to be the switchbacks of the Easy Mile, at what used to be Mount Frontenac Golf & Ski. It’s 90 degrees outside, which my brain is having difficulty processing after having only been here before in the depths of winter.
The seemingly unused but maybe not quite abandoned Frontenac ski chalet. Rental is to the left. This is the bottom of the Little Pepin slope.
This is where I learned to ski. It’s the only place I’ve ever skied. One Saturday every February for about six years, I would wake up when it was still dark outside to go up with my Boy Scout troop for an outing. I never got particularly good at it, usually sticking to the simple or medium-difficulty slopes. While I enjoyed it, I haven’t been skiing since.
And now, the only remnants of that era are the unused ski lodge and a lift chair beside a map of the ski slopes at what is now a golf course food stand.
The incongruity of the palm tree and the ski map are par for the course for me here. The ski slopes closed in 2001.
The trips are part of my roadgeeking history — my first experience on US 63 north of Waterloo and first foray into Minnesota beyond the state line.
I am only here long enough to reflect and absorb the effects of the changes here on my memories. As I leave, a passing train makes the moment just a little longer. But after that, it’s time to re-enter my vacation mindset and leave Mount Frontenac behind. I have a gap on US 63 to close.