Snowmaking sure saved Maine skiing earlier this season. As I ski under snow guns blasting out artificial whitener, and ride the smooth swift quad chairlift back up the hill, I think about how skiing has changed. Some changes are for the better - namely the aforementioned snowmaking, high-speed lifts, and modern grooming. Some changes, though, make me wonder where skiing will end up, perhaps far from the sport’s origination.

I remember a time when there weren’t Terrain Parks. I am sure some of today’s shredders would shudder to imagine such a banal snow existence without huge hits, spines and halfpipes.

Hold on young jibbers. There were plenty of jumps - but they were handmade by the very eager jumpers themselves. My brothers would spend hours building their own launch pads.

First, they had to secure the perfect spot on the trail, somewhere with enough natural snow, but out of the way of mainstream skier traffic (and ski patrols’ view). Then, they got on their snowpants-covered knees and mitten-packed the snow into place, smoothed out the landing and tested the runway. I can’t describe the pride and satisfaction they achieved when they finally careened of their homemade hit. Even if they crashed – it was of their own engineering. That, among other low-budget tricks performed on skis, was hot dogging - the prelude to today’s pricey parks and pipes.

I also recall a time when there were no glades on the trail map. That is not to say we didn’t ski in the woods. We would sneak off the mapped runs to find fresh natural snow stashed between the trees. It was such an adventure to thread a pristine path, with only your wits and your ski tips as your guide. Growing up skiing Smugglers’ Notch in Vermont, we whispered of this off-piste terrain dubbed the “back bowls.” It was an exciting adventure to us, hooting and hollering through the forest, bouncing over mountain streams, whipping tree twigs as we passed, then skiing the unplowed road back to the lift.

I actually reminisce about lengthy chairlift rides, when you could (and would) have meaningful conversations with your seat neighbor. Back in the day (ayuh), summit fixed grip chairlifts took a solid 20-minutes. The Barker Quad and the Super Quad each ascend in a conversationally quick 5-6 minutes. You can easily bag a legal 10-20 runs in half a day.

As sweet as these efficient lifts are, and while I don’t miss that two runs could take an hour, the number of skiers continuously pumped on to the ski trails can be overwhelming. The downside to uphill capacity is skier density on the trails, which robs us of the solitude and serenity we seek in this sport. Today’s frenetic pace of going up and down in minutes can be enough to make your head spin in cadence with the bull wheel.

A few decades ago, trails weren’t groomed to perfection, and trail widths were a swerving narrow meander down the mountain – the natural elements provided the excitement. Today’s slopes are interstate wide, groomed flat and fast. It seems now skiing is about carving as much corduroy as you can and jibbing off the most monstrous machine-made features.

Today’s skiing is also about real estate and vacation ownership, as a record-number of baby boomers are looking for their escape from urbanism, their piece of peace. Developments at Shawnee Peak, Saddleback, Sugarloaf and Sunday River are evidence that although most ski areas aren’t growing – the bed bases are.

I am not sure the pristine part of skiing will remain with these changes. I am certain that today’s terrain park users don’t fully appreciate what goes in to the design and implementation of a jump. Call me “old school,” but I find the metal staircase in Sunday River’s terrain park an ironic example of how our mountains are transforming closer to the cities that skiers are escaping from.

Skiing through virgin snow in a forest of trees was the root of today’s glade trails, but now it’s often forbidden by ski area boundary ropes, or open to the masses and therefore not such a special stash.

What will be the next thing on the slopes? Who knows? Perhaps after we tire of machine manicured monotonous terrain, we will go full circle and “au naturelle” will come back into style? I have recently spotted the return of “day glow” ski clothing on the slopes (hard not to miss), so anything is possible.