Back to BlogWeek Ahead

The Ski Season Isn't Over. It Just Moved to Beartooth.

Memorial Day is closing day for most of the remaining holdouts. But Beartooth Basin opens today, Timberline keeps spinning, and Mammoth is trying to stretch one weird winter into June.

Memorial Day is supposed to be the soft landing. The unofficial start of summer. Grills, bikes, boats, lawn chairs, awkward sunscreen application. For skiers, it is usually the day when the last few stubborn resorts finally admit what everyone else admitted six weeks ago.

Not this year. Or, more accurately: not cleanly.

The 2025-26 ski season is doing one last weird trick. On the same holiday weekend when Boyne Mountain is making its latest closing push, Palisades Tahoe has already wrapped, Killington is squeezing whatever is left from Superstar, and Mammoth is aiming at May 31, Beartooth Basin opens for the 2026 summer season.

That means North America did not really get a clean off-season. It got a handoff.

Winter limped to the Memorial Day line. Summer skiing grabbed the baton.


The Week Ahead: One Opens, Several Close, Timberline Shrugs

The useful answer for "where can I ski this week?" is short:

  • Beartooth Basin opens today, May 25, conditions permitting.
  • Timberline Lodge is scheduled to run Magic Mile and Palmer, weather permitting.
  • Mammoth Mountain is still targeting May 31.
  • Killington is at the mercy of Superstar snow farming and daily reassessment.
  • Boyne Mountain's Memorial Day run is a history-making novelty, not a new normal.

That is the whole map. Five-ish lift-served options became four-ish became three-ish in a hurry, depending on exactly when you count and how charitable you are with "open."

Unofficial Networks had five U.S. ski areas open for Memorial Day weekend: Boyne Mountain, Killington, Mammoth, Palisades Tahoe, and Timberline. Palisades listed May 24 as closing day. Boyne is a Memorial Day special. Killington was already in "we'll see" territory. Mammoth and Timberline are the serious survivors.

Then Beartooth entered from the side door.

The Wyoming/Montana summer area announced that its 2026 season begins May 25, after new snow and prep work at the basin. Unofficial Networks reported that tickets were available from May 25 through June 14, with the obvious caveat that Beartooth's season is brutally weather-dependent.

That is not just a fun footnote. It is the cleanest possible metaphor for this season: most resorts could not keep winter alive, so the only place opening now is a tiny, upside-down, high-alpine summer ski area that depends on a highway pass, Poma lifts, spring snowpack, and luck.

Perfect. No notes.


Beartooth Is Not a Resort. That's Why It Matters.

Beartooth Basin is not trying to be Mammoth. It is not trying to be Palisades. It is not even trying to be Timberline.

It sits near the Wyoming-Montana border off the Beartooth Highway, with parking above the ski terrain, two surface lifts, a small set of trails, no conventional base village, and a rhythm that feels closer to a ski camp than a destination resort. The place started as a summer training zone, spent decades with a private-camp identity, and now occupies one of the strangest niches in American skiing: a public summer-only lift-served hill.

In a normal snow year, that is charming.

In 2026, it feels almost defiant.

The winter we just had was defined by resorts closing early, especially across Colorado, Utah, and parts of the interior West. A-Basin needed a May rescue storm to stretch into mid-May. Snowbird cut short its planned Memorial Day run. Colorado was done before the holiday. Utah was done before the holiday. Palisades made it to the weekend, but not the Monday.

Beartooth opening on Memorial Day does not erase any of that. It does not mean the season was secretly good. It does not mean the West got saved.

It means the geography of skiing has shifted from broad resort coverage to isolated snow islands.

That is what late spring skiing really is now: not "the West is still open," but "this one shaded glacier, this one farmed ribbon, this one volcano, this one high pass, this one operator with a snowcat and a sense of humor."

Beartooth is the most honest version of that. No giant lodging machine. No luxury village. No promise that this will be polished. Just snow, lifts, rocks, sun, wind, and a highway that has to cooperate.


Mammoth Is Still the Best Conventional Bet

If you want the most normal version of skiing this week, Mammoth is still the pick.

Powder's Memorial Day roundup had Mammoth planning to stay open until at least May 31. That fits Mammoth's whole personality. The Eastern Sierra resort has always treated spring as a second season, and even in a rough broader Western winter, it has enough elevation, aspect, snow farming, and operational muscle to keep going after most of the continent has switched sports.

The reason Mammoth matters is not just that it is open. It is that it still feels like a real ski day when the rest of late May starts feeling like a dare.

That does not mean wall-to-wall terrain. Late May is not February. The mountain shrinks. Operations move uphill. The snow surface becomes a timing game. Too early and it is firm. Too late and you are skiing mashed potatoes with a mortgage.

But Mammoth is still the best bridge between winter and summer because it has scale. You can take actual laps, not just novelty laps. You can make a weekend out of it. You can pretend, for a few hours, that this season did not spend half its time looking like an insurance claim.

Mammoth aiming for May 31 is also symbolically tidy. The resort gets to carry the regular-season flag one more week, then hand the weird stuff to Timberline and Beartooth.

That is probably the right order.


Timberline Is the Control Group

Timberline Lodge is the least surprising name on the list, which makes it the most important.

When the rest of the ski map turns into a closing-date crime scene, Timberline is the control group. Mt. Hood is built for this. Palmer is built for this. Race camps, park laps, volcano corn, and "wait, people are still skiing?" headlines are part of the brand.

As of the latest Timberline conditions page, Magic Mile and Palmer were scheduled to operate weather permitting, with Palmer Lap Park also listed. That is not a promise that every hour will be good. Spring and summer operations on Hood get bullied by wind, visibility, freeze-thaw cycles, and whatever the mountain feels like doing before breakfast.

But Timberline's role is different from everyone else's. Mammoth is trying to extend winter. Killington is trying to prove a pile of snow can beat the calendar. Boyne is celebrating an outlier. Beartooth is starting its own strange little season.

Timberline is just being Timberline.

That steadiness is worth noticing after a season where so much else failed early.


Killington and Boyne Are the Best Kind of Absurd

The Eastern and Midwestern late-season stories are not about coverage. They are about intent.

Killington's Superstar glacier is ski-area theater in the best possible way. The resort spends the winter building a ridiculous snow pile on one trail so it can keep the Beast of the East mythology alive into late May. Some years it works beautifully. Some years it gets thin fast. Either way, it is a clear statement: this mountain wants to own the closing-day conversation.

Boyne Mountain's Memorial Day push is even funnier, because Michigan skiing on Memorial Day should sound fake. It is not. Boyne built a huge "glacier" on Victor and turned the last weekend into a local-history flex.

There is a lesson there for smaller or lower-elevation resorts: late season does not always have to mean massive terrain. Sometimes one good stunt, honestly framed, creates more goodwill than pretending conditions are better than they are.

The key phrase is "honestly framed."

Nobody should confuse these with destination spring products. Nobody should book a late-May Midwest ski trip expecting bowls, chalk, and big-mountain energy. But as community events? As season-ending rituals? As proof that ski areas can still be weird in public? Excellent.

Skiing needs more of that.


The Real Story: Closing Dates Are Becoming Brand Statements

The industry used to talk about closing dates like weather outcomes. Snowpack dictates operations. Warmth wins. Lifts stop.

That is still partly true. But the last decade has made closing dates feel more like brand statements.

Mammoth wants to be the Western survivor. Timberline wants to be the summer institution. Killington wants to be the Eastern last chair. A-Basin built an identity around refusing to quit, even though this year finally humbled it. Boyne turned one Midwestern trail into a holiday headline. Beartooth is leaning into the no-frills summer cult thing.

Meanwhile, resorts that closed early are sending a different message, whether they mean to or not: snowmaking capacity, aspect, altitude, staffing, skier demand, and operating economics now matter as much as tradition.

That is the bigger takeaway from 2025-26.

The old closing-date hierarchy cracked. A Pennsylvania resort made May. A-Basin missed June by a mile. Snowbird bailed before Memorial Day. Colorado went dark early. Utah went dark early. Mammoth survived. Timberline stayed Timberline. Beartooth opened into the wreckage.

If you are looking at the ski industry as a business, closing dates are no longer trivia. They are product proof.

They tell you who has snowmaking. Who has elevation. Who has operational stubbornness. Who has the demand to justify spinning lifts for a few hundred diehards. Who is investing in spring as a real season, and who is quietly relieved when the calendar lets them stop.


Where to Ski This Week

If you are actually trying to ski, here's the blunt version.

Best real ski trip: Mammoth. It has the most complete late-season product and the clearest path to May 31.

Best ski-nerd trip: Beartooth Basin. It opens today, it is strange, and you will remember it longer than another normal resort day.

Best summer-ski default: Timberline. Magic Mile and Palmer are the reliable names here, but check wind and visibility before driving.

Best farewell ritual: Killington, if Superstar holds. This is less about quantity and more about earning one last Eastern lap.

Best local oddball: Boyne Mountain, if you are nearby and want to say you skied Michigan on Memorial Day.

The most important advice is boring and correct: check the resort's own conditions page before leaving. Late spring operations can change in hours, not days. Lifts go on weather hold. Trails melt out. Parking rules change. A "scheduled to operate" line is not a contract with the mountain.

Still, the season is not dead.

It has narrowed. It has gotten weirder. It has moved uphill, north, and onto snow piles with names.

For a winter this chaotic, that feels about right.


SnowRadar Take

This is the week when the ski map stops being a resort map and becomes a personality test.

Do you want scale? Go Mammoth. Do you want ritual? Go Killington. Do you want the dependable summer machine? Go Timberline. Do you want the bizarre, beautiful, high-pass version of skiing that makes no sense to normal people? Go Beartooth.

The 2025-26 season was rough enough that nobody should romanticize it. But if the final scene is a handful of skiers chasing slush on Mt. Hood, Mammoth's upper mountain, Superstar, and a tiny Wyoming basin that opens when everyone else is shutting down, that's not a bad ending.

It's not a comeback.

It's an epilogue with Poma lifts.