The World’s Scariest Lifts (And Why June’s J1 Isn’t One of Them)

Like any experienced reader of articles published online, I try to have a long fuse. The internet is chock-full of bait (rage, click, engagement), and I like to fancy myself an agile fish, darting between hooks and dancing my way to freedom. However, upon clicking on a SKI Mag article a few weeks ago detailing the scariest ski lifts in the world, I felt my temperature begin to rise.

Portillo’s Roca Jack at number 10? Hmm… If you say so. Frankly I’d put that right around number 1—the five-person platter lift that rockets you up ungroomed avalanche terrain and stops at an angle, forcing a switch turn dismount, is among the most puckering lifts I’ve had the (dis)pleasure of riding. Doubly so with a hangover from too many Fernet con cocas.

I found more good picks as I scanned below, but my jaw dropped when I read the choice for number 6: My favorite chairlift on the planet, J1 on June Mountain had the dubious honor of gracing a list of the scariest chairlifts on earth? And it was scarier than Roca Jack??

What Are the Real Scariest Lifts on Earth?

June’s J1 is one of the best lifts on the planet—and I can see why some might find it a little intimidating—but I wouldn’t call it scary. Here’s my personal top 5 most terrifying lifts in ski country.

5. The Titlis Xpress in Engelberg, Switzerland

I recently honeymooned in Engelberg, touring around the massive resort and skiing all of the Big 5—the famous lift-accessed freeride lines descending thousands of feet to the quaint town below. The lift that takes you from the valley floor all the way up to the Stand is a small, windblown gondola car flying hundreds of feet above the ground. Oh, and the week after I left one of the cars crashed to the ground, killing one person. If that’s not scary, I don’t know what is.

4. 7th Heaven at Stevens Pass, Wash.

This is one of the steepest lifts ever built. Originally this fixed-grip Riblet two-seater ran over Barrier Bowl, and skiers reported it was much higher than Red Dog at Palisades. Even in its current state it has nearly a 45-degree pitch, climbing to the top of Cowboy Mountain. The lift is so renowned that Whistler named a chair in its honor.

3, Chair 23 at Mammoth Mountain, Calif.

I’ve spun well over 1,000 laps on Chair 23 since I moved to Mammoth. The iconic three-seater zips up to the crest of Mammoth’s caldera, floating high over exposed rock all winter long. Mammoth is not only famous for its wind buff, but patrol and lift ops tend to keep 23 open in gale-force winds, allowing skiers to keep riding the magic carpet. That wind has also sent chairs I’ve ridden careening into the lift towers and flying all about. Add in the giant wood-chipper looking lift shack at the top (friends of mine have fallen into the netting when they were kids) and you’ve got one spooky experience.

2. Roca Jack at Portillo Chile

When’s the last time you dropped into a steep, off-piste face backwards? For me it was in Portillo, when it’s the standard procedure for unloading Roca Jack, the five-person platter lift that takes you to the top of a massive, 35-degree bowl. After a long night at the employee bar, I can still feel my gut churning as the homemade surface lift rocketed across the yet-to-soften spring snow.

1. The Dolomite Coffin Lifts at Val Di Fassa, Italy

What’s scarier than a single-chair? A two-foot by one-foot box with standing room only. These are the kind of gondola cars found scattered about the Dolomites. I first saw them in Val de Fossa, carrying one person at a time up 45-degree slopes to chalets perched precariously atop couloirs. Imagining one of those caroming downslope makes my blood run cold.

Now then, let’s talk about J1.

J1, How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count the Ways

June Mountain, sitting about 30 minutes up Highway 395 north of Mammoth Lakes, isn’t quite the locals’ mountain that it used to be. As crowds accumulate at Mammoth they tend to spill out into June, and I’ve seen massive lines for the ancient J1 (built in 1960!). It’s a slow riblet, but it doesn’t go very high and has a nice lap bar if you’re feeling skittish.

What does J1 offer, you might ask? Well, often the best and only inbounds storm skiing in the Eastern Sierra. June is an upside-down mountain, meaning the steepest terrain is closest to the bottom. The ski resort is shaped a bit like a mesa, dropping off as it falls down into town. That means all its double-black terrain is totally sheltered from the wind. So when skiers at Mammoth are sitting in wind holds as 100-plus mile-per-hour gusts rip across the ridgeline, skiers at June are ripping chest-deep turns down the face of J1. Sure, it’s a slow ride back up—but think of the anticipation.

Secondly, J1 is the only way to access the wonderful June Mountain, a lovely place to spend high-pressure days that far-too-often grace the Eastern Sierra. I’ve heard more hooting and hollering on sunny groomer days at June than I have during powder days at Mammoth: the pistes are wide open and the corduroy often lasts past 2 p.m.

J1 also gives unparalleled access to what is, in this writer’s humble opinion, the best lift-accessed backcountry terrain in the nation. Ride a few chairs, skin 1,000 feet, and find yourself atop sprawling bowls, old-growth trees, and puckering, technical couloirs. Have a favorite type of terrain? You’ll find it just outside the gates at June.

Finally, for all the scaredy cats out there: every trepidatious aunt, uncle, and cousin rode up that sweet, sweet two-seater at my wedding, and rode it back down in the dark. All of them expressed some level of anxiety, but at the bottom, each told me it was among the coolest experiences they’d ever had. And, since I was caught by your rage bait, you’ll have to suffer my annoying irony-poisoned internet retort: Don’t talk to me or my son (J1) ever again.