Repurposing the Mt. Washington Auto Road

Zack Ziobro (pronounced Zee-O-Bro), wants to do for snow tubing what Hannes Schneider did for skiing. The successful American entrepreneur and winter sports enthusiast recently unveiled plans for his next business venture: Converting the Mount Washington Auto Road into the world's longest snow tubing park.

    Go ahead, mock him; ridicule him; call him loony. Just don't bet against him, for Zack's combination of brilliance, imagination, and child-like enthusiasm--and yes, his craziness--has already made him a great deal of money in the winter recreation industry. In fact, the seeds of his latest concept have been germinating since 2000, when, while living in Aspen, he undertook his very first business venture by becoming Colorado's finest (and only) snow tubing instructor. Friends thought he’d lost his mind.

    “I made four grand the first week,” laughs Zack.

    Now, a quarter-century later, Zack’s company employees hundreds of “Certified Snow Tubing Instructors” from the Colorado Rockies to the Swiss Alps, and has designed and patented several high-performance inflatable tubes in various shapes and sizes. Zack’s even politicking the International Olympic committee with the aim of replacing the luge with snow tubing for the 2026 Winter Games. The motto of his campaign? “There are two types of Olympians: Winners and Lugers. What do YOU wanna be?”

    Zack's idea for developing New England's highest peak is still in the planning stages, and he'll admit that, before he sells his first ticket, he'll first have to win over folks at The Auto Road, in addition to acquiring a veritable avalanche (pun intended) of government permits. He's undaunted by the challenge. “This will alter the landscape of winter sports in the northeast,” he says, “It's a win for all of New England.”

    A little history of this eccentric entrepreneur: A 1989 graduate of Scarborough High, Zachary Andrew Ziobro won a full scholarship to Harvard University only to spend most of his freshman year snowboarding. When Harvard—in a most polite, Ivy-League manner—told Zack to leave, he packed his snowboard into his Hyundai and headed for the Colorado Rockies. Zack spent the 1990s toiling in obscurity, teaching snowboarding to the children of Hollywood stars by day and drinking macro quantities of microbrews by night. Then, one fateful afternoon, Zack experienced the epiphany that launchedhis snow tubing career. “It happened at Aspen Highlands; I'll never forget it.” he told me. “I was standing on a trail beside a line of ten students, giving a group lesson, when all of a sudden I hear a man screaming. I look upslope and here comes Michael Moore on an inflatable tube, hurtling down the mountainside, totally out of control and heading right for my class.”

    They never stood a chance.

    “He flattened ‘em, man.”

    This is the moment—with his injured students lying strewn across the trail--that Zack decided to become a snow tube instructor. He wasted no time getting started. “I was at Staples ordering business cards before the first Life Flight arrived,” he says proudly.

    Now a young-looking 53, Zack sports a twinkle in his eye and mischievous grin to go along with an unruly mop of thick blond hair. To critics, he's a millionaire in a jester hat; a man-child who found a formula for making a living without needing to grow up. A middle-aged Ferris Bueller, if you will. Some consider his plan for the Mount Washington Auto Road as little more than a 6,288-foot publicity stunt, but it's actually founded on his wealth of experience and market research, as well as—believe it or not—the science of global warming. “Interest in snow tubing has been on the rise for twenty years,” explains Zack, “and as this market has expanded, New England ski resorts have responded by adding tubing parks; they're trying hard to capture this growing revenue stream so they can remain viable. But here's the problem: With climate change, you can't count on Mother Nature for snowfall anymore. Mount Washington is the only one place in all New England where you're still pretty much guaranteed large quantities of snow each winter. My plan is a no-brainer, as they say.”

    During a recent visit to his Old Port offices, Zack showed off an elaborate, incredibly detailed, three-foot-tall scale model of Mount Washington. “This is the Auto Road,” he said, pointing to a zig-zagged channel carved into its side, “from beginning to end, it's 12.2 kilometers.”

    “In English. Tell me in English.”

    “About seven and a half miles.”

    I asked how he intends to transport people up the mountain.

    “That's one of the beautiful things about this whole plan--the lift has been in place for a hundred-fifty years!” With a flick of his palm, he spun the model around and pointed to a miniature Cog Railway. “We’ll have the Fisher Plow company fabricate snowplows for each locomotive,” he explained. This actually seemed sensible.

    Zack handed me a piece of plastic which resembled a cross-section of U-shaped PVC pipe. “This shows the track's design. Our snow engineer--”

    “Snow engineer?”

    “That's right. Our snow engineer has designed plans for a track with concave, eight-foot walls made from snow so as to prevent tubers from leaving the course. Picture an oversized water slide if you will.”

    “How fast will these kids be traveling?”

    “First of all,” he corrected me, “This park won't serve just kids. Snow tubing is a multi-generational sport. But to answer your question, we estimate our clientele will reach speeds in excess of a hundred miles per hour. Pretty cool, huh?”

    I could hardly believe it. “Did you say…a hundred?”

    “At least.”

    “Aren't you worried about injuries?”

    “Nah. Besides, Tube Patrol will be on duty at all times.”

    “Okay, but what if somebody goes flying off the track?”

    “Highly unlikely. The concave shape of the walls should keep people in. And if, by chance, a customer exits the course, there's always the local search and rescue squad.”

    “Zack, if somebody goes careening off the side of Mount Washington at a hundred miles an hour, there may be a search, but I assure you, they'll be no rescue.”

    “Eh,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, “Life is fraught with risk.”

    Quite true. And if you're into risks, Zack Ziobro is looking for investors.