Snowshoe: Up, Up and Away

Sure, you could go for the unspoiled vistas, the wildflowers in bloom, the fly-fishing in pristine streams, the miles upon miles of trails and scenic roadways for hiking and bicycling, the river-fed swimming holes, the quiet. But really, the reason to head right now for the Snowshoe region of the West Virginia mountains is for the satisfaction of knowing that several thousand feet down and a couple hundred miles away, everyone else you know is sweltering through the dog days of summer, while you're lounging in the caress of mountain breezes and contemplating fetching a sweater for the outdoor movie.

Snowshoe sits on top of a mountain, surrounded by the Monongahela National Forest, in the middle of the Alleghenies, in Pocahontas County, which boasts the highest average elevation of any county east of the Mississippi. Though getting here undeniably involves a good deal of going up, going down and weaving around en route, the other average that awaits you at the end of your journey is this: an average summer high temperature of 74 degrees. That's Fahrenheit.

On a recent Sunday, I arrived at Snowshoe Mountain Resort to find the cool breezes as billed -- and the place nearly deserted. Apparently I had just missed the last of the thousands who'd been making things lively over the weekend during the International Bowhunters Organization World Championship. You can expect the place to bustle during summer events, such as the chili cook-off, motorcycle rally, wine and jazz festival -- and, this weekend, the Snowshoe Symphony Festival. But now, sitting in the open-air plaza of Snowshoe's mountaintop Village, I had the place nearly to myself, but for the occasional mountain biker rolling past.

The Village is where most of Snowshoe's shops and restaurants are, and it's also the outdoor plaza setting for various entertainments and activities (such as the aforementioned outdoor movies). With its manicured plantscapes and piped-out contemporary music, the Village felt a bit like Reston Town Center in the clouds (though you didn't see me complaining about finding a Starbucks at 4,800 feet), but greater solitude and scenic beauty, I discovered, were easy to come by. A few steps beyond the edge of the Village, you can pick up a bike or hiking trail and lose yourself (figuratively speaking, of course) in the densely green forest that rolls away in all directions. And elsewhere in the county you'll find heaping helpings of the great outdoors; not for nothing does Pocahontas County call itself "nature's mountain playground."

After an afternoon spent ambling along a few trails at Snowshoe, I drove down into the valley a few miles (at least as the crow flies, if not the road winds) to nearby Slatyfork, where I would be staying at the Elk River Touring Center. Offering bed-and-breakfast accommodations as well as fully equipped cabins, Elk River caters particularly to the outdoors crowd. Well-marked hiking and mountain-biking trails (cross-country ski trails in winter) lead virtually from the back door, and cyclists can also take advantage of a shuttle service and guided tours. If your fancy is more for waders and rods and reels, Elk River is an "Orvis-endorsed" fly-fishing guide service as well. And there's a shop on-site that stocks everything from flies and trail maps to bike tubes and jerseys to coffee mugs and cold beer.

Thursday through Sunday nights, Elk River's restaurant is open for dinner, serving contemporary cuisine, often featuring organic ingredients. I opted for spicy Thai noodles with tofu followed by strawberry-rhubarb pie followed -- thanks to the robustly portioned servings -- by a desire to lie in stupefied torpor for several weeks like a boa with a largish peccary to digest.

Instead, I went for a walk.

In the morning I woke to the sound of rain falling outside my open window, but by the time I'd lingered over a breakfast of fresh fruit and made-to-order pancakes and driven up through a cloud bank to Snowshoe, the sun was making a fitful appearance. Snowshoe on an August Monday hadn't gotten any busier, and nearly everyone I saw was pedaling a mountain bike. Not to be left out of the fun, I headed to the resort's Mountain Adventure Center bike shop to meet my guide for the morning, Canaan Pollock, who is supervisor of the bike park and the bike school at Snowshoe and was going to give me a quick lesson in downhill riding.

If you are an aficionado of off-road bicycling, then no doubt you know this, but I seemed to have missed the news that mountain biking has morphed from a pedal over rough terrain into several subsets of ways to sustain grievous bodily harm. At Snowshoe in summer, your options include cross-country -- which is what "mountain biking" means to most of us older than 25 -- downhill and freeride, the last two involving a full-face helmet, enough body armor to qualify you as an extra on a remake of "Mad Max" and the signing of a very lengthy waiver of liability. Also, when Pollock advises you to use only one finger on your brakes, and that lightly, there is a good reason, and I have the fading bruises to prove it.

After Pollock fitted me with a bike, protective gear and a quick lesson in downhill handling skills, without further ado we hurtled down a slope on the Snowshoe Basin side of the mountain. At least it felt like hurtling to me because there were a lot of cobble-size rocks, ruts, bumps and berms, all passing in a bone-rattling blur. Then, but for a brief pause for a wipeout (mine) and subsequent disentanglement, we were at the bottom of the mountain, and we were loaded on the chairlift, and so were our bikes, and hauled to the top (there's also a vehicle shuttle service). And that's downhill: Get to the bottom as fast as you can, and if possible in one piece, then go to the top and start again. Actually, it was kind of fun.

On our second run, we paused midway to peer at a narrow, rocky, rain-slicked trail dropping precipitously into the heavy shadow of the woods. There are multiple trails like this on the mountain, and they make up Snowshoe's Mountain Bike Park. As if roots and rocks and twists and turns and a dramatic angle of descent weren't quite enough to give a sane person pause, there are fiendish human-built features to add to your fun. Trevyn Newpher, who is the bike park manager and leads the design of these trails, is a pro rider; at the hair-raising entrance to each trail, a sign warns "Advanced Skills Required." Indeed.

If you prefer your outdoors with a smaller dose of adrenaline, Snowshoe's other summer attractions include a mountainous golf course; sporting clays (airborne clay targets you shoot at); Shavers Lake, where there's swimming, fishing, paddling, a climbing wall and bungee trampoline; and a sky-high lift ride you can take to the lake and back. Off the mountain there's nearby Cass Scenic Railroad State Park, a restored railroad town, where you can take a ride on a steam train (or an overnight trip in a refitted caboose), and the Greenbrier River Trail, which is a flat (a rare feature around here) bike, walk and horseback trail following an old railroad bed for 80 miles along the Greenbrier River. It is ranked as one of the nation's top 10 biking/hiking trails by Backpacker magazine.