The Pirate Ship & Me - Told from the Stammtisch

When I sit at the Insider Stammtisch and think back on growing up in the Vail Valley, the Pirate Ship in Vail Village always comes to mind first. It wasn’t just a playground — it was one of the true centers of our world as kids. Right there beside Pepi’s Face, tucked into the willows with that little creek running alongside it, the place had a magic that only Vail kids really understood.

I spent half my childhood there with friends and whoever happened to be visiting town. The ship was our meeting point, our hangout, our unofficial clubhouse. And that small river beside the park — that was the real treasure. Hidden in the willows, it felt like a mountain tide pool. We’d explore it for hours, turning over rocks, watching the water move, feeling like we’d discovered something secret that belonged only to us.

And of course, the captain’s lookout. Every kid who climbed up there felt it — that moment where you weren’t just standing on a playground anymore. Up in that perch, you felt like a king looking out over your kingdom… or at least a slightly crazy pirate ready to command your crew. It was the highest point in the universe when you were ten.

At night, the whole place changed. We’d sneak back with flashlights, climb down into the belly of the ship, and try to scare each other with shadows and whispers. The creaking boards, the dark corners, the sound of the creek nearby — it all made the ship feel like a real hideout. Those nights were simple, funny, and unforgettable.

And then there was the Fourth of July. If you grew up here, you know exactly what that scene looked like. Hundreds of kids packed into that little corner of Vail Village, all running around the Pirate Ship like it was the center of the world. You’d meet people from everywhere — families from across the country and all over the globe. For a kid in Vail, it was the best way to meet new people and feel the whole world come to you.

The Pirate Ship has its official history — built in the 1970s, rebuilt in 2004 after the community fought to save it — but the real story is the one lived by the people who grew up around it. And sitting here at my Stammtisch, telling these stories, I realize how much that little ship shaped my childhood. It wasn’t just a landmark. It was a piece of who we were, and who we still are.

--Jean-Claude (JC) Moritz