During the last light of the setting California sun, we stopped for a look around the old dilapidated ski resort known as Iron Mountain. This place fills you with a creepy wonder, both intriguing and ghostly.

I can remember skiing here as a kid, on a trip to a friends cabin in Tahoe.  The memory of this trip is one of my fondest early ski adventures. This was the first resort I had been to, outside of my home resort of Dodge Ridge. The largest difference being that this ski resort was backwards from most. You arrive at the top of the mountain, first tracks come before the lift ride, then the lifts bring you back to your car at the end of the day. We had a great day and planned on returning the next. However, on our return trip from the Tahoe basin we succombed to the magic and grandeur of Kirkwood, singing a siren song we couldn't possibly resist.

In part, I can understand what happened here. Although a fun and down to earth resort with little to no crowds, diverse terrain, and a beautiful location; the smaller terrain and lower elevation just could not keep up with that special place, just a bit further up the road.

A while ago the main lodges burned down and now the ruins are being re-born with the colorful art of those returning to see it's demise. The abandonment and decay adding to the feeling of loss for what this place once was. I am truly grateful for being able to enjoy at least one day on these slopes and getting to have the experience of riding the lifts back up to the car. I will always remember spending the day on the slopes of Iron Mountain, my first Tahoe ski resort.