Everyone loves to get away and relax, and for those who love to ski or ride, few things can compare to the iconic image of escaping from the cold into a warm, cozy cottage for some warm food, cold drinks and good company. If this scenario sounds like something you would enjoy, then you may want to try to win yourself a night in the famous Stone Hut up on Mt. Mansfield.

According to Vermont State Parks, the Stone Hut originated as a warming hut in 1939, built by the Civilian Conservation Corps, some of whom cut the first ski trails on Mansfield.

Now it is run cooperatively by the Vermont Department of Forests, Parks, and Recreation and Stowe Mountain Resort. Anyone may stay there, but there is a catch: Stays are awarded through a lottery system, and it is a very popular destination. Based on a sheer stroke of luck, and an acquaintance’s generosity, I was fortunate enough to find myself packing up and driving towards Stowe.

My roommate and good friend Nate had received a call earlier that day from a longtime friend of his who was working for the State Park System. His friend informed him that he was offered one free chance to bring a crew along for a night in the Stone Hut.

Unfortunately for us, it was mid-October, so bringing our boards was a pointless endeavor. Some “what ifs” and “if onlys” were exchanged, but overall we would not be dismayed for the rare opportunity that we were offered, snow or not.

We gathered enough beer, food and random electricity-free methods of entertainment we could find to hold us over for an evening of hiking, laughing and enjoying each other’s company, and set off to meet our hut mates for the night. The upside that came with having an off-season stay was the ability to drive to the top, instead of taking the lift.

After making our way up the toll road under a quickly vanishing sun, we parked in the small lot, which sits just behind the quad lift, and wandered towards the little beams of light poking through the windows. I flipped my flashlight on and couldn’t help but crack a smile as I studied the beautiful yet simple stone dwelling, a pleasant cliché image still in my mind.

The Hut is, as you would expect, externally all stone, with a small covered porch barely large enough to fit two standing men.

Upon opening the door we were greeted by the other three in our crew sitting at a large wooden table surrounded by benches, a wood stove set into a large stone chimney jutting out of the otherwise wooden walls and 12 bunks. Large beams run across the room just above head level. There’s no power, so we rigged up some lighting on one of the adjustable coat drying racks that hang from the ceiling, threw some of the supplied firewood in the stove and wandered outside for a short hike around some of the trails. To our delight, a few stray snowflakes floated past as we walked.

Thoroughly chilled by the mountaintop wind, we meandered back into a now-warm hut, snacked and played card and board games through the night, laughing and carrying on the whole time. It was in that time I learned why the Stone Hut is such a special place. Faces I hardly knew when I arrived were those of friends before we had all turned in for the night.

After a particularly vicious game of Monopoly to end the night, we agreed to wake up early in hopes of catching a good sunrise. When we awoke, however, there were far too many clouds rolling over the mountain to see anything outside besides the snow that had begun falling in our sleep. What had been a beautiful, mottled display of reds, oranges, and yellows among the pine trees the day before were bleached white with somewhere around a half inch of snow.

After hours of snowy shenanigans including our first snowball fight of the season, we packed up our belongings, cleaned up the hut, and waved goodbye to our first (and very likely only) stay in the Stone Hut.

It isn’t hard to see after why this place was so sought after and we couldn’t help but wish we had more time. But all fun must come to an end, and it was time to leave. It was the moment we had been dreading not only because we had a blast, but because the toll road to the hut is normally closed when there’s snow. We piled into our cars and began the sketchy journey down. Nate and I soon realized our buddies were fine, but we were attempting this in a sedan with no four wheel drive or, at the time, snow tires. All seemed fine at first until we were a few switchbacks down, when the vehicle decided even at a slow, steady speed, to fail us.

We drifted at initially snail speed around the corner, and as passenger I could do nothing except watch the edge of a trail and post make their way closer. Thankfully, we caught traction inches from any harm. More cautious than before, we slipped and skidded the rest of the way down the snow-covered road, into a stunning transition from winter to fall before stopping a dozen times for the irresistible photo ops.

As we left Stowe Mountain Resort and turned onto 108, we found ourselves on the receiving end of smiles, waves and honks. Our snowy, two-car caravan reminded everyone what was around the corner.