Blast from the past: Early skiing on Casper Mountain

by Shannon Forbes
Tuesday, April 3, 2007 2:07 PM MDT

Bumps-a-Daisy. Sh-Boom. Nursery. Miner. Spillway. Thunderbolt. Dixie.

Do any of these names ring a bell? If so, you just might be an old-time skier.

Long before Hogadon Basin Ski Area existed with its vast parking lot, chairlifts, hot food, restrooms and satellite-downloaded weather reports, there was skiing on Casper Mountain.

Oddly enough, this was thanks to the Great Depression. In an effort to alleviate economic hardship, President Franklin D. Roosevelt created millions of jobs through projects that were part of what was called the New Deal. The passage of the Emergency Work Act in March of 1933 generated the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC), which focused on the preservation of America’s natural resources.

The CCC put millions of young men (and 8,000 women) to work in the great outdoors. The sweeping program gave relief to the unemployed, providing food, clothing, housing in rural work camps and $30 per month wages ($25 of which went home to workers’ families).

This huge new cash-flow boosted the nation’s economy and its morale, both of which had been stuck at rock-bottom for years. Medical care, classes in vocational and academic subjects, team sports and general entertainment also were provided. It was one of the most beneficial and least controversial government programs of all time.

Of a total of 2,700 work-camps nationwide, Wyoming boasted 19. At least three projects were undertaken near Casper. One camp at Alcova worked on an extensive agricultural irrigation system. Another camp reconstructed Old Fort Caspar from archaeological and archival records.

A camp built in the spring of 1937 at the base of Casper Mountain converted an old mining road into a bridle-trail near Garden Creek Falls. They also began cutting a series of fire-breaks along the top of the mountain.

When the winter of 1938 set in, a few hardy Casperites decided to take up skiing.

The mountain road was neither surfaced nor plowed to the top in those days, so enthusiasts would “drive up as far as possible, park their cars and hike to the area where they wanted to ski, carrying 7’6” wooden skis on their shoulders,” according to Casper’s Rob Robertson.

“It was hard work, but a great trip back down to the car,” he recalled.

Eventually, these cuts of raw land scattered in the tall timber became a bit more civilized. A few people got together and rigged up a rope-tow. It featured a “one-lung” donkey engine and the ingenious use of old car parts.

Metal wheel-rims were attached to tall trees in a line going up the slope. These carried a thick rope which ran in a continuous loop, ferrying skiers from bottom to top.

Buck Weaver, long-time resident of Casper Mountain, tells stories of his Boy Scout skiing days. Scoutmaster Ted French would give the entire Troop rides up the mountain on a 16-foot flat-bed trailer, pulling them behind his big, black 1929 Buick Roadmaster touring car.

When they got stuck, which was often, the boys would all jump down and use their skis to dig the car out.

“Later, we learned to use shovels,” Weaver says.

The troop often would spend a ski weekend at their scoutmaster’s cabin across the road from Nursery. In March of 1941, as they headed to Bumps-a-Daisy for a little early morning schussing, they ran into Neal Forsling, who was out looking for her husband. He hadn’t come home the night before and she was worried about him. French sent Forsling back to wait for news while he and the boys went to look for the missing man.

“We followed some ski tracks in the snow and found Jim Forsling sitting under a tree, frozen to death,” Weaver recalled.

The Scouts were sent to fetch a toboggan from Nursery, and they carried the man home to his wife. All the boys were badly shaken by this event.

“Nine months later, World War II had begun, and those same boys were facing death of another kind,” Weaver said.

During the war years, skiing returned to a very primitive state. There was no gasoline for rope-tows and very little for cars, not to mention none for snowplows on the mountain road. Some locals and a few fliers from the Army Air Corps training base outside town kept the sport alive, but just barely.

Bob Hardesty tells how he and his high-school buddies “would rent a cabin up at Beartrap Meadow and ski all the little slopes from there. Then we would ski clear back to town.”

After the War, skiing again became popular, with rope-tows on Bumps-a-Daisy, Nursery and Miner/Spillway.

“At one point, we even rigged up some lights on Nursery so we could ski at night,” Weaver said. “It was great fun.”

Weaver remembers that Miner was named after Forrest Lee Miner, who was crazy about skiing. “Lee was one of the boys who didn’t come back (from the war).”

Young and old would stop on their way up the hill for breakfast at the Brookside Café (which burned down years ago), and do après-ski at the Wa-Wa Lodge (which is still there).

“Most people had a real hard time getting up the hill in their heavy old pre-war, rear-wheel-drive cars,” said lifetime skier Lynn Frost. “There was one place on the road we called ‘Dixie,’ starting where that garage kind of hangs off the side. Then it goes into some S-turns before reaching Asbestos Springs.”

“The old Dixie Lodge used to be down in the hollow of that canyon by the road, you know, down below that hanging garage,” recalled Buck Weaver. “It belonged to a woman named Dixie, of course. It was supposed to have been big during Prohibition. The Brookside, too. Both places burned down a long time ago.”

Bob Hardesty, Rob Robertson and Howard Engstrom bought an old school bus in Edgerton. This was put into service by the ski school to transport kids up the mountain for lessons. George Peek would pick them up bright and early at the old Armory parking lot and drop them off at the Knights of Columbus at the end of the day.

Young and old would stop in for breakfast on the way up the hill at the Brookside Café (which burned down years ago) and do après-ski at the Wa-Wa Lodge (which is still there).

Another gathering-place was at the old trolley-car “319” owned by a group of young men who brought it up from Denver. The understanding was that the last of the group to get married would inherit the trolley. Bob Hardesty won, and still owns it today.

Casper Mountain has gone from pristine to packed in our lifetime. Suzy Studer used to fly down the slopes whistling. Now, everyone is wearing an iPod for music.

Skiing itself has become more sophisticated. Skis are shorter and turn like magic. Boots and bindings are ergonomically correct. Clothes are warmer (and cooler, too). Cars are all front-wheel (if not four-wheel) drive.

One thing hasn’t changed over the years, though. When you ask Bob Hardesty if he can still yodel, he doesn’t answer. He just does it!

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