DE SPITE A L ACK OF SNOW A N D TH E RE S TRIC TIONS OF TH E PA N DEM IC , W E FOU N D LOTS OF RE A SONS TO EN JOY SK IING L A S T SE A SON . A LL W E H A D TO DO WA S SLOW DOW N A N D GO U P INTO TH E MOU NTA INS A S M UCH A S P OS SIB LE. by DOUG SCHNITZSPAHN
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ast year was not one of Colorado’s great ski Where I used to hold out for nothing but powder days years. In fact, it started out disturbingly bare— worthy of pro photo shoots, mundane trips up the despite an early September squall that got our mountain now kept me sane. hopes up—before making up for the dry months, I learned that magic was there on days when thanks to a late season push of spring storms. you least expected it. My wife, Radha, and I had the But it was nothing close to the 2018–19 chance to sneak out for a day together season, when a run of storms created in December. The wind was howling, and brand-new avalanche paths that closed we half expected the lifts to be closed— I-70. And there was no single big event or at least the snow to be whipped off like the 2003 storm that shut everything the trails—instead, we found deep, soft Last season, I down, with over 62 inches of snow stuff deposited on the leeward side of pummeling Loveland (and I was lucky sheltered runs that surprisingly skied didn’t worry enough to ski it and survive the 12-hour better than some days with big dumps. about going on drive it took to get home to Boulder). One day when the lifts were actually shut The mediocrity of last year’s snowfall the perfect day— down by the wind, we made the best of it did not matter to me, however. With the and hiked back to Lost Lake and simply what day was pandemic still dragging on and resorts on enjoyed the privilege of being up in the reservation systems that left some skiers mountains with nothing better to do than perfect during and riders exasperated, I had the best walk and take them in. My wife taught the pandemic season I can remember in a long time. me to skate ski on afternoons after we Count me as one who enjoyed the would wrap up our jobs, and I loved the anyway? reservation system. I’m not a planner by burning in my lungs, the work of finding nature, but I had to be able to ski last year. the rhythm of a glide, and the fact that There was an insanity to it—snagging parking passes she kicked my butt at it. Another day, I didn’t make for random weekends at Eldora three months in the it up to Eldora until 20 minutes before the lifts shut future felt like trying to score a Guns N’ Roses show on down, but it had just started to snow, and I banged Ticketmaster circa 1988. (Though I admit I never had a out five sublime runs gliding through the untouched problem finding a reservation at Eldora or Winter Park accumulation. So many other days, I was able to let even when I hadn’t booked way ahead of time). But my kids sleep in a bit, and we shared time listening to it wasn’t holding a spot that others could not get that ’90s playlists on the drive up and knocked out lowI enjoyed about the system. I loved that it made me key runs seeking stashes in the woods. go skiing on days I might have blown off other years because the snow was not perfect or I was not going urther afield, we figured out the perfect time to spend the whole day up on the hill. Last season, I to leave our house to make it to Winter Park didn’t worry about going on the perfect day—what day before the crowds;, farm fresh snow on the first was perfect during the pandemic anyway? few runs; and then drive back while we watched Instead, I would plan days around skiing like I traffic continue to pile up headed up-mountain. used to when my life was not consumed by work We sought out steeps in Copper Bowl and quiet trails and other responsibilities. I admit I had grown weary with fresh snow that the crowds who were hot to of the parking scene at my local Eldora in previous get to the marque runs ignored. We made full use of years. On powder days, even subpar powder days, our Ikon passes; drove down to Taos, where wekept it had become a mad dash to get up there before socially distant but still ordered chile rellenos to-go the chairs even started swinging just to be able to from our favorite spot to eat and enjoyed them grab a spot and not get turned around at Nederland in front of a wood fire at a Airbnb casita; and spentthe High School. But last year, there would be leisurely next day ripping up one of the West’s classic breakfasts of waffles and French press coffee. I enjoy mountains. It was an antidote to the ever-slogging breakfast, not rushing, not fighting and gaming just pandemic, a sort of rebellion against sickness to go enjoy the mountains. I began to long for the and despair. I came back to skiing as a full life slow drive up to Eldora the back way, up Coal Creek experience, a measure of each day in the mountains, Canyon, past horses, and an abandoned motel, and and something to be shared. ponderosa groves, and nameless foothill summits. I am not sure if anything in our lives will ever I love the long switchbacks on that road, the train return to what it was. And I don’t necessarily tracks, the plywood Peanuts characters that some subscribe to the idea that the way we have had to resident puts up along the side of the highway to adapt to the pandemic has made things better. It has mark the holidays from Thanksgiving to Valentine’s perhaps given us a chance to reassess the way we Day. It all felt so far away from the continued live. For that I am thankful when it comes to skiing lockdown of COVID-19, the rising death tolls, and the since I had lost sight of the full scope of what matters continual collapse of our national political discourse. up there.
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