Thirty years ago, on powder days, my father would drive me over to the lift. I’d have to haul out the monstrous 18” snow blower and clear the driveway, curving 400’ downhill. We’d leave about 8:05, exactly the right amount of time to go three miles across the valley. He’d drop meat the end of the Stonebridge alley, where I’d haul out my powder skis (Haute Routes at that time), walk ten feet, and buckle in for the short slide down to the base lift.
Since then, it seems 70% of the time when I arrive for my ski vacation, my first day on the slopes is a mandatory powder day. Meaning there’s at least 4” of new snow down at our house, promising at least that much up top. Which is a great way to start a vacation, of course, but it does have its drawbacks. I mean, I’d really rather have a day or two to ease into the skiing. No matter how much dry land work I do, weight lifting, stretching, core exercise, whatever, if I start out with a powder day, I know the next morning I’ll be sore, a little tired, and risk my legs just not keeping up for the length of the trip. I’d rather pace myself, not slam full force into a sprint right out of the gate.
But I rarely get that opportunity. Even in this, the “third driest year in the last half century” here in central Colorado, I get stuck with knowing that the only fresh snow I’m going to get this week will be now, on my first day, when I haven’t even made sure my boots or ski clothes fit.
So now it’s not my father, but my son who is driving me at 8:05. Cody is here, working on or house, modernizing the heating system, laundry, closets, and other utilities for our increasing number of rental guests. He’s not skiing this winter. The snow’s been lousy anyway. Only two real storms by the end of January, then finally a couple of feet over the last five days. And none on the horizon after that, meaning it’s now or never.
So how does one approach the only powder day of the year? Luckily, this is a Thursday in late January. The X-Games have left town, and no one has come in to replace them; the slopes are pretty bare of even the regular powder hounds, the meanest of who are probably prowling the Highlands and Ajax in search of a fix.
I arrive at the base of the Village Express, along with about thirty others. We’ll be waiting for another 15 minutes, but already I’m starting to sweat a bit, down here below the wind and snow. Up top, it’s probably about 15F, and there is still snow swirling everywhere. Supposedly, 5″ fell in the last 24 hours. At home on the other side of the valley, the proch and driveway testify to this. I’m hoping the usual multiplying effect of higher altitude and north facing slopes will make that even deeper.
The lift starts right on time @ 8:30. Because the crowd is so sparse, I figure there’s no harm in taking my first run of the year down Campground, which has been groomed. No sense in plunging right in before all the synapses have been re-wired to ski mode. After a couple of minutes of double fall line grinding – meaning I have to stay twice as long on my right foot as my left – I turn right onto the short snatch of Howler, and bumpy little short cut to the base of the Sam’s Knob lift. Here, I discover that while I may lack a little endurance for skiing, probably due to the 10,000′ altitude, I can still make turns in a half-foot of new snow over some chopped up powdery moguls. This always amazes me every year, that I still know how to ski.
From the top of the lift, I shoot down Sunnyside, taking the straight shot towards the Burn lifts. The first one is closed, this being a weekday, and I head over the trestle to one of my favorite little spots on the mountain, the Sidehill. This is a two story, 35 degree side slope on the right, which I ALWAYS turn up into, make a 180 at the top, and try to get at least two more turns in on the way back down. Good for pumping up the core muscles, so necessary for graceful skiing. Besides, it looks cool.
On the 8 minute ride up the Sheer Bliss lift, I have time to consider my options for a first run. Normally, I just shoot straight down the open ace of the Burn, trying my best to link perfectly symmetrical turns all the way under the lift. But I notice something odd – the open spaces been either mashed flat by the snow groomers, or wind scoured free of fluff. So I figurfe Garret Gulch may be the repository of the with snow drifted in over the ridges.
Garret’s is a stream in the summer, coursing between the two broad shelfs which comprise the Big Burn. Usually, snow being blown over the Burn will fill up the Gulch, giving its large rounded moguls the appearance of a slanted parking lot full of Volkswagen Beetles.
The top seems promising, there in the trees. There is a bit less snow than I’d hoped for, but it’s fresh and soft, and feel just right. But the Gulch seems devoid of anything new. The snow is soft, from the storms over the past three days, and qualifies – bare – as a powder-y experience.
From there, I head back up, to the other side of the burn. Slashing though the trees angling left towards the Power Line, I’m aiming for a run down Powderhorn. This will give me 3600′ total vertical drop. Powderhorn always has soft snow, as very few people like this rambling, rolling expert run, which finishes with something called “Belly Grabber Pitch”. while the mid portion has enough new snow to satisfy, the bottom drops are low enough and steep enough to have bushes and even a few stumps showing thru.
Back up Sam’s Knob, I try a couple of bumpers in the snow – Zugspitze and Promenade. I like Promenade the best. It’s a little longer, more even in its slope, wider, and right under the lift. All this makes for a more even collection of bumps, more widely spaced which always seem to hold the snow better.
Then down the artificial snow surface of Banzai Ridge. Cruising quickly back acrfoss the trestle, it’s up to the top of the Burn again. The Cirque lift, which goes another 700′ above timberline, has not yet been open this year, and all the Cirque runs have been closed, except for AMF, which can be approached by a short uphill hike. The lift is rolling, but no platters are heading up. I’m guessing they are testing the motors and lubrication getting ready to open up tomorrow. That would be sweet.
I walk over to the AMF gate, and notice the steeper, narrower chute to the left is closed, and the cornice on the right is barely 18′ high – no snow here either! I roll into the easy trough which leads to the main face. There, I take a nearly perfect run in soft, but not fresh, fluff. No avalanche detritus, no scraped and wind-blown ice, just slightly raised mounds to turn over and around. I make it all the way down in one foop. Arriving at the base, I see there is only one route out – the options for the KT gully, or the Cirque Dikes are both roped off, and I can only meander thru the trees on a well-used track. After a bit, the Gully opens up, but I stay along the top of the little ridge, in the trees, until I hit the bottleneck where one can go left to Rock Island, right to Lower Dikes, or straight to a very steep face which dumps out into the final swoop of the gully into Skateboard Alley. The bumps here are ragged, steep, and might hide some rocks. I make it through unscathed.
I’ve gone nearly 18,000 vertical feet by this point, but I’m still looking for the powder. Over past Elk Camp, the SkiCorp cleared out the understory amidst the sparse trees at the crown of Burnt Mountain, opening up another 230 acres of off-piste hidden away from the public at large by a steep five minute hike. To get there, I spend ten minutes in the gondola, eating my lunch along the way. Then, of course, I stop in at the Ski Patrol Hut/Wildlife Center at the top of Elk Camp for some free hot chocolate and a pit stop.
After the hike (easier now that I’ve learned how to pace myself!) I aim right through the gate for the Burnt Mountain glades. They are as advertised, with fun, soft snow on an intermediate grade slope. But the exit is something else. The SkiCorp was going to clear out the trees for a steep catwalk onto lower Long Shot. But some environmental nag – really, the guy spends his life sitting at a computer somewhere in California, and throwing wrenches into any Forest Serve application for activity he sees which might be anywhere near a wilderness area, without knowing any of the specifics of the situation – petitioned the courts for an injunctions against the clearing, and so we have to pick out way through the trees and rocks and roots following the tagged trunks. Ragged, and not really worth a second trip. This year.
But it makes for a good end to the day, 23K altogether, and a reminder that, even in one of the worst snow years in memory (though not as bad as last year), one can still find a few fleeting softer turns. WHich is really all skiing is. The mountain is a constant, but the snow surface is ephemeral, and I have to grab at it while I can. This is getting to be a broken record, but as the Brooklyn Dodgers fans said in the early 50s, Wait Till Next Year.