To All,
Its
May 17th, and the worst Colorado ski season in memory has finally
ended. Most people I know gave up on skiing weeks or even months ago,
but shouldn't have. The last few weeks have actually been really nice,
and the fact that people stopped showing up made it even nicer. Nothing
like short to non-existent lift lines to make a good day even better.
Closing
days at ski areas are always a bittersweet affair, for enjoying
something you love for one last time creates some mixed feelings. There
aren't many activities we do that come with a finite end date, so
enjoying those last few blasts down the hill makes me sad and happy at
the same time. Ski area closings usually happen progressively, not all
at once. Locally, Arrowhead and Bachelor Gulch close first, then Beaver
Creek, followed by Vail and Steamboat. Breckenridge and Copper come
next, and A Basin is usually the last to close. This year they all
closed early, which reinforced the perception that the skiing was
terrible, though the last few weeks of skiing were actually pretty
good. I went to Steamboat's final day, and they got thirteen inches of
snow that last week. If you looked up at Mount Werner from town, the ski
area looked bare. But the reality was that the upper mountain was
terrific, and the skiing was great. Since there was no snow on the lower
part of the mountain, getting off the hill involved taking the gondola down the
hill which felt a little strange. It was worth it though. Although we
didn't get any huge dumps of snow, there were other pretty good days and
I was able to time my trips there to be there when they happened.
On
the Thursday before Steamboat closed, I ran up there to ski on my
birthday. It has snowed the day before, and I was looking forward to
getting into some of it. On the way up to the top of the mountain riding
the Wild Blue gondola, things didn't look too promising at the bottom
of the hill. But then halfway up, things changed. The world became white
again, the transition from spring to winter was almost instantaneous.
The skiing was great that day, and I was able to ski amongst the aspen
trees for one of the only times all year. But it was a very windy day,
and as the wind blew harder the Sunshine Express lift was closed for
safety. At the end of the day it was necessary to download to the bottom
on the Wild Blue gondola, since there was no snow down there. There was
a bit of a line to get on, and I ended up sharing the gondola with two
women, and a family foursome. The Wild Blue opened last year, and is one
of the longest gondolas in the world, going from the bottom of Mount
Werner to the top. As soon as it began its descent, it began to rock
back and forth in the wind. After some quick banter, everyone settled
in for the ride. Due to the wind, the speed of the gondola was slowed
waaay down, to maybe walking speed. As the gondola swayed back and
forth, I thought about a detailed news report I had just watched that
week. It was the fortieth anniversary of a tragic accident in Vail in
which a cable broke, and a couple gondolas plummeted to the ground
resulting in several fatalities.
During an awkward silence, my inner wiseass awakened, perhaps feeling
some birthday entitlement. I told my gondola partners about the Vail
incident, and one of the women looked at me with lowered eyebrows and
"thanked me for sharing". There were a couple of chuckles, and then
more silence as the gondola continued its ever so slow crawl down the
hill, while swinging back and forth. After another silence, I added to
no one in particular that the Vail gondolas fell 125 feet, and that they
were travelling 60 mph when they hit the ground. This time, just more
lowered eyebrows from the woman, and a couple of nervous titters. After a
half hour of the world's slowest gondola ride, we were almost to the
bottom. The gondola was still pretty high, but the wind had finally
eased up a little. The father of the family looked towards the bottom of
the hill we were finally approaching, and said with some relief "Well
looks like we finally made it!" My inner wiseass wasn't done however. I
heard myself say, "That's what one of the Vail survivors said just
before the cable broke". We were close enough to the bottom that
everyone laughed, even Ms. Lowered Eyebrows.
In
March I got to ski Aspen, and was initially disappointed by the
conditions. March should have the best snow of the year, but I wasn't
used to seeing so much bare ground everywhere when it should have been
ass deep powder. But then I thought about it and tried to put it in a
different light. What if it were May instead of March? If I were skiing
those same conditions in May, I'd be ecstatic. The problem wasn't the
snow that I found myself on, it was the expectations I had for what
March skiing should be like. So I managed my expectations, which I could control,
and found myself enjoying the actual snow conditions under my feet,
which I couldn't. By pretending it was May instead of March, I suddenly
found myself enjoying a spectacular day of May skiing on Aspen
mountain. Since it was warm enough to feel like May, it wasn't that
hard to do. It was wonderful May skiing, just in March.
Like
Steamboat, when Beaver Creek closed the following week the upper
mountain skied well but the lower part was barely covered. I skied there
a couple of weeks before they closing , and it was pretty good from top
to bottom. But when I went back a few days later, I was shocked to see
how much the snow had disappeared in such a short time. March is usually
the snowiest month in Colorado, but this year it was the hottest and
driest on record, and that really did a number on the snowpack. But the
last day turned out pretty great. I found a groomed run that everyone
seemed to have missed, and just kept doing laps on it until everyone
else discovered it, too. I didn't want the day to end, so I began
thinking of doing the hike up to the Bald Spot, which is through a gate
above the Cinch lift. It had been years since I'd skied it, and it
wasn't even sure if there was enough snow up there to do so. I knew that
there was usually an end of season party in the pasture on the way to
the Bald Spot, and hoped that I'd find someone else who might want to
hike there as well. When I got to the pasture there were already about a
hundred people there, some loud thumpy dance music blaring through some
big speakers. Meanwhile, some guys were building a ramp to jump off
of, using their snowboards as a shovels. The pasture was sloped, and
when the jump was finished some of them began walking up the hill. Then,
one at a time they began skiing and riding down the hill to fly off the
ramp they made. The first few didn't have much speed, but as the track
became packed down they went faster and the jumps and tricks became
better. I couldn't find anyone going to the Bald Spot, and so, I walked
up the hill and did a run and jump myself. No tricks on my part, just a
boring jump off the ramp and clean landing. Then a member of Ski
Patrol showed up on a snowmobile, and I thought that would be the end of
the party. But he was just there to announce that the mountain was
closing for the season, and that Patrol was leaving, so we were on our
own. He asked us all to be careful, and to please clean up after
ourselves, and with that he turned the snow machine downhill and left.
Then
the party went into another gear. This was a stage of the party I'd
never stuck around long enough to see. People started disappearing into
the woods, and emerging with dead branches. They began stacking them up
just below the ramp, and when the pile was big enough someone set it on
fire. At that point people began trudging up the hill again, and this
time when they flew off the ramp they were going over the fire as well.
Most of them made it with room to spare, but one guy on a snowboard cut
it a little close, possibly due to alcohol consumption. Anyway, if he
had he caught fire there would have been plenty of frozen water to put
him out with at 11,500 feet.
With
the Beav closed my attention turned to Copper Mountain. This is a
mountain that I've really come to love and respect since I started
skiing it again back in 2020. It has a combination of high altitude and
extensive snowmaking that makes a great place to ski during early and
late season. And the scenery is sublime, with some of the best views in
Colorado and thats saying something. Sometimes I think that it might
the last place people will be able to ski at in thirty years, given the
warming and drying trends we've seen over the last twenty. Copper also
previously announced an early closing date, but got creative and managed
to squeeze out a few more weeks. Since the base areas seemed to be the
weak point for most of the local ski hills, Copper took the snow from
the tubing hill and moved it over to the base of the Superbee lift. Then
they shaved the snow from the side of their halfpipe, and put it near
Center Village to keep those lifts running. It was a brilliant move and
it worked.
Their
last weekend was a real lesson in how to run a ski resort. This is
when those bittersweet feelings first began to emerge, since A Basin was
also planning to close on that coming Sunday. First, on the last Friday
Copper was open they kept the lifts running until seven pm, something
I've never seen a ski area do in my fifty years of skiing. In addition,
for their last weekend they opened up the close-in parking lots and made
them free, so there was no bus ride from the more distant parking lot
needed. On top of that, at 330pm they temporarily closed the upper lift
so that they could send a squadron of snowcats up to groom
Copperopolis, a wide blue run. When they restarted the lift at 5pm, we
were welcomed to the sight of a wide, perfect swath of corduroy. There
was a beautiful sunset that evening, and many of us on the slope took
our sweet time getting down the hill. For me, since it would be my last
run of the year, I was in no hurry for it to be over. It was sad to be
packing up my ski gear for the last time, but I was consoled by the fact
that it was such a great day to end the season on. I had begun skiing
at eleven am, and skied until almost eight pm, and was pretty worn out
but in a good way.
Then
on Monday came the announcement that A Basin was going to add another
week. This was great news, for I couldn't wait to get back on my skis.
Even better, they got 20" of snow in the previous week days. So on
Thursday night, I drove up there and dirtbagged it in the back of my
4Runner. On Friday morning I rolled out of my sleeping bag and into the
lift line, and got to be one of the first people back on top of the
mountain, with an endless expanse of fresh snow awaiting me. The sun
was out and I was as happy as I could ever remember being. What
followed was seven straight hours of non-stop laps down the
mountainside. It did get a little crowded, especially for the upper
lift, but I realized that the lower one was being ignored, so I did run
after run on that and was loving every turn I carved. When the final run
was on tap, it occurred to me that sometimes at A Basin they can be a
little slack as to when they stop loading the lift, and will go a wee
bit past four pm. So instead of taking my sweet time for my last run of
the year, I pointed my skis straight downhill and went as fast as I
could on very tired legs. That effort was rewarded though, for when I
tore into the lift line at 404pm they let me back on. I got to do one
more Last Run, and this time I went as slowly as possible. It was a
great way to finish a lousy year.
But
then, a miracle. On Monday I found out that A Basin was extending their
season for one more weekend! On Thursday night I drove up there again,
and once more spent the night in the back of my truck. After a burrito
and some hot coffee, I was back near the front of the lift line and
riding up the hill again. This time fewer people seemed to have gotten
the memo that they were back open, and the lift lines were very short
all day. Although there wasn't any fresh snow that week, what snow they
had held up well and it skied great. The sky was a brilliant blue all
day without a single cloud, and the snow softened up beautifully. There
was no lift line for the upper lift, so I did laps off that all day.
The
small pond that forms near the summit each spring at A Basin was back,
and its just not springtime at A Basin without a little pond skimming.
The first time I tried it many years ago I made it, but every time I've
tried to do it since I've fallen short. Its pretty humiliating to find
yourself sinking into a frozen body of water in front of a hooting crowd
of people, but for some reason I kept trying. On Friday that pond was a
little smaller than normal, and a majority of the skiers and riders I
saw doing it seemed to make it across. One person failed when another
tried to do it at the same time, and when he reduced his speed to avoid
the other skier he ended up in the drink. Another guy I watched from the
chairlift didn't keep his tips up, and did a complete face plant into
the icy water. So I waited until my last run to try it again, and
secured my phone in my back so that if I went swimming too I could keep
it dry. I waited until no one else was going, and began my run down to
the pond. One thing that I've learned from my many failures at pond
skimming is that you need to go as fast as possible. As I rocketed down
the hill and approached the water, I noticed a guy waist deep in the
middle of the water. I yelled out a loud "Oh Shit!" and when the guy in
the pond saw me heading his way, he began furiously paddling his way to
the side. This was my one shot, and I wasn't going to slow down or
wait til next year to try again, so I was going for it whether he was in
the way or not. I hit the water with speed, kept my tips up, and shot
across the water splashing the interloper in the process. (It turns out
he was a Fail, and had gone back out into the water groping for his lost
ski).
Mission
accomplished, I was finally ready to call it a ski season. And
although its been a winter to remember for all the wrong reasons, at
least it ended with three of the best days I've ever had on skis.
Jack Bombardier
PS
- I love Tik Tok. That seems to make me a minority amongst my fellow 65
year olds, but sorry I think Tik Tok is great. The only other person I
know who enjoys it is the young woman I met a few years ago while she
walked from the headwaters of the Colorado River to the point where it disappears into the Sea of Cortez (her handle is "Nomad Diaries" if you
would like to share her trip. This summer she paddled the length of the
Green River).
Anyway a few weeks ago I started posting videos on Tik Tok myself. I
get to see lots of interesting things each day, whether it be scenery,
wildlife or just interesting places in Colorado. Most of the videos are
pretty short, so if you've got time to waste you can check them out at"
Jack Bombardier" on Tik Tok. They're as plain as can be with no bells
and whistles. They are just little glimpses into mountain (and
riparian) life
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