Following Melting Water Downhill
Its that time of year when the amazing outdoor playground that are the Colorado Rockies transition from winter wonderland to summer paradise. This past winter ended up being a very good one in terms of snowfall and the resulting snowpack, after a very unpromising early season. It was a very dry start to the past winter, and coming off the last good one we had last year, it seemed reasonable to expect a stinker. Dry winters often seem to follow snowy ones, and we seemed to be headed for a year like that until the heavens finally opened in January. The big “atmospheric river” of storms that walloped California still had some snow left over for us once they crossed the Great Basin.
Last Sunday I went to Steamboat for closing day, and conditions were such that it seemed like it could've stayed open for another couple weeks. Today I went to Copper Mountain, and it felt like mid-winter. They got a foot of wind blown snow over the past couple of days, and at 12,000’ it still feels like February. In most ways, March and April are my favorite times of the year to ski. The base is as deep as it will get, which means my favorite aspen glades are open since all the deadfall is covered. The weather is warmer, so the electric socks and gloves can stay in the car. My job delivering propane also slows a bit, so occasionally I run to the Beav for a few runs after work. And this late in the season, my legs are as strong as they’re going to be all year.
But alas, springtime is here and with it a procession of ski hills closing for the year. First it was Arrowhead and Bachelor Gulch, next Beaver Creek, and then Vail and Steamboat. Sometime in May Copper will stop running, and A Basin finally pulls the plug in June. The end of the ski season is a bittersweet time, especially when you find yourself on top of some run for what you know will be the final time. It'll only be a few short months until November when colder weather and fresh snowfall begins the whole cycle again. Sometimes I wonder how long I'll be able to keep feeding my skiing addiction. Skiing well requires a certain minimum level of physical fitness, one that I’ve been able to maintain so far. Whether its due to modern equipment or better technique, at the age of 63 I can still ski as well as I ever have, maybe even better. But I no longer take that ability for granted, for still being able to do what I love is something I treasure and appreciate more each passing year. I’ve never regretted a single day I’ve ever spent skiing, even on days when I’ve injured myself or endured bad weather getting to or from the mountain. That moment of magic being swept up a mountainside by a chairlift, or carving those first few swoops in the snow, make it all worth it. I’ve never had the questionable “pleasure” of doing heroin, but whatever hormone that gets released into my brain when making perfect turns on a powder snow must have similar effect. I don’t ski merely because I want to, its something I need to do. It gives me a high and a rush that I'm addicted to as surely as a junkie who needs their next fix. Sometimes strapping on a pair of skis and flying down a mountainside feels like a superpower, Ironman putting on his suit. Terrain that would take hours to traverse in a normal pair of boots can covered in just minutes or even seconds. Its an empowering feeling I don’t get from anything else.
The disappointment caused by limited ski options is mitigated by the knowledge that as one door closes, another opens. And that open door leads to all the local ponds, creeks and rivers bustling with life, ready for fishing or paddling upon. There are two times of year in Colorado when the ski and fishing seasons overlap, November and springtime. In November you can do both, but there aren't many ski runs open yet and most of the snow is man made. Advantage fishing. But in the spring, the mountain conditions are perfect and the rivers are still cold and a bit off-color. The ice on the Colorado River melted off in late March, but until the water temperature gets above fifty degrees I don't even think of fishing the Colorado. Advantage skiing.
All of those beautiful white frozen snow molecules I’ve spent the winter skiing upon are now in the process of changing into their liquid form, and providing an even more important and lasting benefit. As they melt, it creates the dynamic ecosystems that nurtures life as we in the arid west know it. Healthy rivers make it all possible, and I love the idea of following the melting water downhill, and being its partner, its passenger, and its beneficiary. I hope that I’ll have many more seasons of riding that magic white carpet, but if I don’t then at least I can know that I didn’t leave anything on the table.
My dory has been sitting in the Colorado River in my backyard since Easter, and I go for a short float on in it almost every night after work. The dogs love it and so do I, and it’s a good way to build up my strength for when real rowing is required later this year. The Upper Colorado River is already up to 2,500cfs, a level it hasn’t been at since last summer after the runoff dropped. It feels great hanging out next to the river as it pulses past with life and energy. I don’t know if it’s the sound or smell or the negative ions, but there’s something about being next to or on a river that fills the soul, or at least mine.
The two things that make me happiest are standing upon a pair of skis, or sitting between the oarlocks of my boat (and maybe wearing a pair of ice skates should be on that list too). In all three scenarios, I want for and need nothing else. The common denominator which makes them all possible is water, whether in frozen or liquid form. Having two good snowy winters in a row feels like more than we could have hoped for, especially after the way this season started. Knowing that there’s a decent snowpack above yet to melt is like having a money in the bank. I may not have much experience with the latter, but the former is something I’ve learned to appreciate. Even if things turn dry again this summer, having a full aquatic bank account sitting in the reservoirs above means that all of the finned, furred, feathered or skinned creatures who rely the river should have what they need this year to survive and thrive.
This leaves me feeling very positive for what the summer of 2024 is looking like. I hope that everyone reading this gets to spend as much time as possible filling their soul beside or upon a river as well!
Jack Bombardier
PS- I've been reading a fantastic book, “The Emerald Mile”, by Kevin Fedarko. Its ostensibly about the fastest boat rode ever thorough the Grand Canyon, but it also about a lot more than just that. It’s a book I’d heard of and wanted to read, but hadn’t gotten around to it yet. And then this winter, it showed up in my mailbox, shipped from a used book seller without any note as to who my benefactor was. I reached out to the website it came from, but they wouldn’t divulge the name.
So who can I thank for this? If its someone who is getting this email, can you let me know so that I can offer my thanks? It was wonderful gesture, one that I’d like to reciprocate somehow!
