The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the scent of breakfast fare as a team of dedicated servers swiftly take orders and pass out customized coffee mugs, which appear to showcase 50 years of Snowbird’s history. Their efficiency is a testament to decades of camaraderie with the group to which I am a newcomer. They begin delivering orders to the table, though I’m sure no one even had to ask. Among the hustle and bustle, there’s an undeniable sense of community, a feeling that this gathering is more than just a meal—it’s a cherished tradition. Food came flooding out of the kitchen before I even had a chance to introduce myself to the 10 guests of honor. “We don’t order off the regular menu,” one of the gentlemen leaned in and winked, “this is special, just for us.”

The Forklift, tucked away in plain sight on the Plaza Deck, serves as the backdrop for this daily ritual. It is a sanctuary where stories of powder-filled adventures and mountain escapades have been exchanged for over half a century. Each of the gentlemen sipped coffee out of their custom mug, featuring a photo of their inaugural Snowbird Season Pass, most dating back to Snowbird’s opening 1971-72 season. This group, now weathered by the mountains but as youthful as ever, consists of the “O.G.s” of Snowbird. In their presence, I’m transported back to an era when skiing was more than just a hobby—it was a way of life.

“So, how often do you guys do this?” I inquire, probing into their skiing routines at The Bird. "Every day," comes the unanimous response. “Every day?” I echo in disbelief. “Well, I live out in Kamas, but I crash at his place sometimes!” said one gentleman, pointing to his buddy, who grinned over a leisurely sip of coffee. I laugh, hoping that I will still be using my friends for powder day sleepovers in my later years.

“Some of our group includes women too, but they're still out skiing. These days, us men do some skiing, but we focus more on this,” one gentleman explains, gesturing to the lavish breakfast spread. Despite his humility, it’s evident that many of them are probably still better skiers than I am, with some of the group members even in their 60s and 70s.

Surrounding this humble table were local legends who I had seen out skiing day after day at The Bird. Guru Dave Powers, author of “Snowbird Secrets: A Guide to Big Mountain Skiing,” as well as Guru Dave’s Snow Report, eagerly reminisced on the days of hiking from Snowbird over to the Twin Peaks to Red Baldy. If you haven’t read Guru Dave’s Snow Report before, I’d recommend taking a look. Skiing every day for the past fifty years has aligned him so closely with The Bird's wind and temperature patterns that he is practically a human weather station. All I could think was, “I better get a move on if I ever want to tackle half of the terrain or understand the mountains like Guru Dave.”

Across from Guru Dave sits Neil Cohen, currently Snowbird’s official historian, formerly a server at the Steak Pit and manager of The Forklift, Plaza Deck Restaurant, Golden Cliff Restaurant, Eagle’s Nest Lounge, The Keyhole and Greenhouse Bar, The Lodge Club Restaurant and Bar and the Wildflower Restaurant and Lounge, before becoming Food and Beverage Director at The Cliff Lodge. Needless to say, Neil had been with Snowbird since its second season in 1972. He is humble and kind, sporting a vest covered in pins highlighting his accolades at Snowbird over the years. When talking to Neil, you can tell he is the father of the “Mug Club” at The Forklift, making everyone at the table feel like family.

As it turns out, almost every gentleman sitting at the breakfast table has been skiing at Snowbird since its opening in 1971. “Most of us came from somewhere out east,” Randy, a newer club member, shared, “but in 1971, Snowbird was in the news and brand new and it just seemed like the place to be!” I realized, then, that the lore of Snowbird’s terrain reached far and wide, even over 50 years ago and sparked a pilgrimage to Utah for those seeking impressive powder skiing. It feels eerily reminiscent of the circumstances that brought my contemporary skier companions and me together nearly 5 years ago.

When I inquired about the origins of their tradition, asking how they came together and established their ritual, I received diverse responses. Some reminisced nostalgically about the vibrant scene at The Bird during the 1970s, when it cut its teeth as a new and exciting ski resort. Others emphasized their shared passion for skiing and the allure of the mountains. However, the most resounding answer? The women. Apparently, in the early days of The Forklift, the presence of the beautiful waitresses left an indelible impression. The pursuit of companionship kept them coming back—some even met their spouses at Snowbird.

I feel privileged to connect with such a tight-knit group, yet envious of their experiences shaping Wasatch ski culture's evolution. As I walk away, I hope to one day contribute to the future of our mountains and the ski industry. For these gentlemen, there’s a sense of gratitude for the present moment amidst all the nostalgia, recognizing that while times may have changed, the spirit of Snowbird persists. It is clear the mountain is more than just a playground—it’s a sanctuary, a place where friendships are forged and lifelong memories are made.