The morning of my drive from Cortina down to Milan became my own personal adventure in alpine and sliding events. As I prepared to fit the “snow socks” provided for my rental car — equipped with summer tires — a friendly local waved them off: “You don’t need those; you’ve got Xdrive.” I’ll take front-wheel drive with proper snow tires over all-wheel drive on summer rubber any day, especially on snowy roads.
Channeling my best Mikaela Shiffrin impression from her slalom the day before, I navigated the descent without missing a single gate or hairpin turn. When I finally reached the main road at the bottom, relief washed over me — almost as palpably as Mikaela’s when she claimed gold. Almost, but not quite.
Cortina was extraordinary. Its beauty defies description; words fall short of capturing the majesty of the place. The ski infrastructure is remarkable — imagine staying in Park City yet accessing every major slope in the central Wasatch via interconnected trails and lifts in the same day. (One exception: a charming, old-school horse-powered rope tow, which I’ll return to shortly.)
The Milano Cortina Games adopted the slogan “It’s Your Vibe,” and Cortina embodied that vibrancy perfectly. Bobsled, luge, skeleton, curling and women’s alpine events were all within easy reach. You could walk to the shuttle for alpine competitions, and the same held true for the sliding center. Curling took place just a five-minute stroll from the end of Corso Italia, the town’s famed pedestrian main street (with a little less grade than ours).
While some aspects could have been smoother — such as the Park City delegation enduring over two hours of traffic returning from Anterselva — few places could rival the authenticity and genuine warmth of the Italian hosts. I’m confident Utah will rise to the occasion when its time comes.
The day before Mikaela’s triumph, I had my own modest victory. I caught a shuttle from Cortina to the Lagazuoi tram, which climbs roughly 2,500 vertical feet to the summit of a dramatic, jagged peak.
From there, you can ski for miles. About three miles down from the tram, you reach a flat valley floor stretching roughly a mile. For just 5€, a horse-drawn rope tow pulls you onward to Armentarola. At that point, I was nearly 15 kilometers (nine miles) as the crow flies from my starting point, but I had grander plans: tackling the Sellaronda, a legendary 30 km (19-mile) loop spanning seven ski areas amid some of the most breathtaking Dolomite scenery imaginable.
I still had about four more miles to cover on skis and lifts before joining the Sellaronda circuit. It was already around 10:40 a.m. when I reached the Lagazuoi tram (having arrived just before 10), and I needed to return to Armentarola by lift close at 4:30 p.m. to catch the bus back to Cortina. I’ve never carved so many high-speed giant slalom and super-G turns in my life, mile after mile on pristine corduroy.
I was on a mission. The previous night, Sophie Goldschmidt from U.S. Ski & Snowboard had added my name to the guest list for their closing dinner in Cortina. There, I met passionate supporters, team members and others. They mentioned their group planned to ski the Sellaronda the next day and invited me to join.
Wary of complicating logistics, I simply said I’d try to catch up with them on the mountain. Once my skis were on, the hunt was on for those signature U.S. Ski Team parkas.
When I reached Corvara — my entry point to the Sellaronda — I realized I hadn’t yet started my Ski Tracks app. By 10:56 a.m., I was already about six miles in. With tracking activated, I went on to log another 22.3 miles, 18,000 vertical feet, 19 runs, and 18 lifts, hitting a top speed of 55 mph. I paused for an unforgettable lunch at Rifugio Comici, a seafood-focused mountain-top gem in the Dolomites—insalata mista and spaghetti con vongole, worth every minute of the hour-long break. Thanks to directional guidance from my new Polish friend Martin, I made it back to Armentarola in time for the 4:30 shuttle, exhausted yet exhilarated.
The pass for this epic day cost far more than the 80€ single-mountain ticket I’d bought earlier, yet it granted access to 10 resorts, nearly 30 miles of skiing, and over 20 lifts for just 87€ — about $103 USD at the time. Buonissimo!
A day later, Mikaela would solidify her legacy as the GOAT with her slalom gold. Meanwhile, I navigated a harrowing six-hour drive (normally four, or 11 by public transit) through a heavy snowstorm that dumped a foot in Cortina, arriving safely at my Milan hotel before 6 p.m. I had a ticket to the women’s gold-medal hockey game and was eager to watch our U.S. team take on Canada.
From the hotel, I rode the subway three stops to a transfer point, dashed up the stairs, and caught a streetcar that had just pulled up a couple hundred yards away — heading exactly where I needed.
About an hour later, as the puck dropped, I rushed through efficient yet thorough security and into the arena. Just before entering, representatives from the Professional Women’s Hockey League were handing out pins, surrounded by Canadian fans (and likely Canadians themselves).
I quipped, “If I promise to root for Canada to win … the silver medal, can I have a pin?” They laughed good-naturedly and handed one over, appreciating the jab.
The Canadian fan seated behind me, however, was less amused. All game long, he chirped relentlessly: obnoxious remarks about the U.S. women, demanding penalties on every strong defensive play.
“That’s what happens when you can’t skate,” he sneered after one of our players was knocked down. Or, “She’s a goon” for a physical style of play. For 57 minutes, he savored impending victory. Then our team snatched it away.
Normally, I’d thank or congratulate nearby opposing fans. This time, all I could think was that the “ugly American” stereotype had been flipped — courtesy of a Canadian.
Bill Ciraco is a Park City Council member.