Ken Gold poem, written 42 years ago, captures essence of Steamboat powder day |

Ken Gold poem, written 42 years ago, captures essence of Steamboat powder day

Daughter and father, Arielle Gold and Ken Gold, watch an event together during the 2014-15 season.
Joel Reichenberger

This poem by Ken Gold was first published in the Steamboat Pilot & Today at the beginning of the 1978 ski season. Ken rediscovered his poem while going through his mom Fran Gold’s possessions following her death. Ken’s kids, who happen to be Olympians Taylor and Arielle Gold, encouraged their dad to resubmit the poem to the newspaper for publication.

“I remember writing this poem, and it came as kind of as a stream of consciousness on a day when we were praying for new snow in 1978 I think,” said Ken, who first moved to Steamboat Springs in 1977 when he was 27 years old with the intention of ski bumming for a year or two.

Ken learned to ski moguls and ended up competing on the Pro Mogul Tour until 1986. During that time, he decided he wanted to stay in Steamboat but he needed a career. And in 1981, Ken earned his real estate license. Over the years, Ken was involved in developing a number of real estate projects including The Antlers, Cimarron, The Villas at Walton Creek and Quail Run.

Ken, his wife, Patty, and their children, Arielle and Taylor, relocated to Summit County in 2007 so that Taylor and Arielle could train at Breckenridge and Cooper Mountain, which according to Gold, provided them with the best opportunity of achieving their goals of making the U.S. and Olympic snowboarding teams. They both made the 2014 U.S. Olympic team, and in 2018, Arielle won a bronze medal in Korea.

Here is Ken Gold’s poem describing a perfect ski day in Steamboat.

Rejoice for it’s morning
The snow has arrived
Falling like manna 
From the Heavenly Sky

Ivory lace curtain like
Draping its veils
A delicate ballet 
Leaving afterglow trails

The mountain once barren
Is shrouded in white
Its summit invisible
Promising delight.

King of the Mountain
I stand at the top
Grim and determined
To ski ’til I drop

Over the edge
And in a moment I pass
Through time’s open doorway
Beyond reality’s grasp

A world in slow motion
Every moment alive
All in its place
Nothing contrived

Gracefully gliding
Like freedom’s own child
Mercurial splendor
Don Quixote gone wild

Weaving through evergreens
The wind in my face
A silhouette in skiwear
Effortless grace

The Powder Hound’s daydream
Exploding through fluff
Spraying rooster tail shadows
Never enough

I free fall through whipped cream
Floating mid air
A portrait in ecstasy
Without a care

Plummeting downward
The more I descend
The higher I get.

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