It hasn’t snowed here in over a week. The runs are slick, shimmery, and slippery, basically soft ice rinks. The undersides of the moguls shine, the tops are like knife edges. The sun and warm temperatures have conspired to bring us the worst of both spring and drought skiing. For this, people from all over the world are spending thousands of dollars for a little fun.
My goal for the day: warm up my skiing muscles on corduroy groomers early in the day, hoping to get a little purchase on the snow surface, which is resembling the sugar in my pantry, all dried, caked, and glued together. Snowmass offers elegantly long opportunities for the GS inclined cruiser. Not my style, but it was the only thing on offer today. And with a series of storms lined up off shore west of California, ready to pounce inland, I didn’t want to over do things, only get primed for the powder to come.
Parking up the hill in Lot 12, it’s only a 20 meter walk across Snowmelt Road to the hillside below the Timberline condos, where skis pop on, and I start scratching down Fanny Hill to my first ride of the day. Let’s see, the grooming report: Campground, top-to-bottom; Mick’s Gully, Sheer Bliss, and Coyote Hollow/Whispering Jesse (affectionally known as Dave’s Run in our house) on the Burn; The Edge to Naked Lady in Alpine Springs. These runs would range from 2200 vertical feet to 3600’, offering unchecked speed skiing runs of 3 to 5 minutes each.
So, a lot of time on the lifts. First ride up the Burn, I drew a guy from Cologne.
“Do you know where that is?” he asked in lightly accented and perfectly grammatical English.
I pride myself on my geographic prowess, so I did a quick mental check – let’s see, not in the East, not in Bavaria, “So that must be on the Rhine, right?” This got me into his graces, someone who, at least for an American, was a bit cosmopolitan.
“This is a great day, no?” he smiled.
I wasn’t really seeing it; in fact, in normal circumstances, it’s so bad I would not even be on the hill, But first day of my trip, with promised powder to prep for, and here I am. “Tomorrow should be even better; a lot of snow coming. Did you come with a group, or your family?”
“My wife is taking the day off.” -”Smart choice” – “She’s is Aspen, shopping.”
“Aspen is like Disneyland for adults,” I mused, “perfectly designed to extract maximum dollars from you in the shortest time possible.” Another smile. “What do you do there, in Cologne.”
“I’m a youth soccer coach. This is such a great environment, I’m checking it out to maybe start a summer camp for German kids here. The British are already doing it. You know, for rich families,” he added, rubbing his thumb and first two fingers together.
“Well, if you come, bring your bike – road or mountain. The riding here in the summer is unmatched.”
“Yah, I love to mountain bike; I remember going all day in the mountains of Bavaria, seeing no one except the group I was riding with.”
“Well, it’s like that here, too.”
Then on to Mick’s Gully – not a soul in sight, skiable even if I can’t see anything; the run is so wide and the light is so flat. The Burn shrinks mightily in these conditions – all the ungroomed areas, even the trees are just a scary bank of frozen crunchy corn.
My next ride up, the guy was looking at the armrest lift map.
“Find what you want to do?”
“I’m here scouting things out; the rest of my group is coming tomorrow.”
“Have you skied Aspen before?”
“Fifteen years ago, but I don’t really remember it. We go somewhere every year. We’ve been going places like Park City and Jackson Hole. I hope there’s stuff here that will satisfy them. Do you know the mountain?”
I gave my stock answer about parents retiring here in 1968, and I’ve been skiing here every winter since, blah, blah, blah.
“So what do you recommend?”
“Well, it depends on what you like, what you want to do. This mountain is so large and so diverse. Tomorrow, there’s going to be 6-8” in fresh snow up here, and that’s just perfect for the Big Burn. The terrain is such that that amount of snow will slow you down enough, make the turns easy enough, you’ll feel like a hero. Even ski the trees.
“And if you want the more rugged, off track runs, there are really three places in Aspen to go: Highland Bowl” – “You have to walk there, right?” – “Yeah, up to 45 minutes. And the Cirque, and Hanging Valley and the Wall, here.” I pointed them out on the map. “You can either walk to the Wall, or take the Cirque lift, and cat track over.”
“The Cirque – can you really ski that? It looks all rocky.”
“Yeah, it is all wind blown on the top, what you’re looking at. But follow those white chutes down” – I pointed out the Headwall – “and the snow gets a lot better. It’s all blown in over this ridge we’re riding up.”
I popped off the lift, and headed over to the Poma, on up to the top and over the High pass to ski Edge-to-Naked Lady. That’s dropping from 12,510’ to the base of the Alpine Springs lift, at 8900’. Non-stop, and not even down to the bottom of the ski area.
After a nostalgic stop in the rustic patrol cabin on top for a Clif Bar and water, and some fun in Reidar’s bumps (great on top, as usual, but I was bested in the meat grinder at the bottom,) I contemplated hanging around for a trip down Coffee Pot, which was the Noon Groom. But there was a line! at the Alpine Springs lift, so I just went to the bottom, and took Village Express up to Sam’s Knob for my last run, which would be Sunnyside to Banzai. Both groomed.
I got on with two guys, who talked mostly between themselves. But the one next to me was resolutely gregarious, befitting his Northeast accent – may have been Jersey, Long Island, or Connecticut – somewhere in the tri-state. They were here for four days ending today, and were, like the other two I rode up with, almost thrilled with the conditions. Apparently, the snow out west is softer, even when it is hard, than back East, the crowds are non-existent in Aspen compared to other western resorts, and the exchange rate favors the Europeans. So everyone seemed over the moon with his vacation.
As my German friend said, you have to ski the conditions you find that day, and enjoy them as you can. When the snow’s no good, that may mean finding the best in your fellow travelers on the ride uphill.