Books, Arts & Manners: Mountains in Green and White

A SHORT item in the obituary columns the other day must have raised puzzled frowns on the foreheads of some New England skiers: it said that Perry H. Merrill had died at the age of 99. The skiers knew they knew that name, but from where?

Perry Merrill had been, in his younger days, Vermont State Forester—not a position whose holders’ names are usually household words. But the ski trail named after him on Stowe’s Mt. Mansfield has been the scene of triumphs and follies for countless skiers in the thirty years since it was cut, making it an appropriate memorial for a man who played a central role in the way Alpine sports developed in northern Vermont.

About the Author

Linda Bridges

Ms. Bridges is the former editor-at-large of National Review.

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A SHORT item in the obituary columns the other day must have raised puzzled frowns on the foreheads of some New England skiers: it said that Perry H. Merrill had died at the age of 99. The skiers knew they knew that name, but from where?

Perry Merrill had been, in his younger days, Vermont State Forester—not a position whose holders’ names are usually household words. But the ski trail named after him on Stowe’s Mt. Mansfield has been the scene of triumphs and follies for countless skiers in the thirty years since it was cut, making it an appropriate memorial for a man who played a central role in the way Alpine sports developed in northern Vermont.