Summit County – Like a fixed-grip chairlift rounding the bullwheel from your blind side, it hits, unexpected and hard at some point in the sixth snowy month of the season. You can’t beat it. It’s bigger than you. Stronger. Lacking in conscience, indifferent to your pleas, it ultimately forces your hand. You submit. And, once again, you ski.
By now, perhaps, it should be expected, like that chairlift taking aim at the tender, exposed calf muscles above your boots. Equally uncaring, the lone lift operator lets it pass uninhibited, leaving it up to you to react accordingly in the realization that snow still falls, nights remain cold and summer above 9,000 feet is at best a full month away. Put the bikes and boats back in the garage. Now – not November or December – is time to harvest the ski season’s bounty, and Summit County is ripe for the picking.
By “you,” I mean, well, all of you. Every last one of you who, like me, apparently gave up the ghost of summer and headed for the high country last week to sample the Summit County snow continuing to pile higher into the month of May.
With cold rain and slush suffocating the lowlands, fresh tracks beckoned from Arapahoe Basin on Sunday, attracting more riders to The Beach than fall swell at the North Shore of Oahu. Cars lined Loveland Pass at every switchback, and parking lots on both sides of the Divide swelled with traffic, bloated like Popeye on a three-day spinach bender.
A new chapter was added to The Legend, described by marketing director Leigh Hierholzer as “definitely one of our biggest days in recent years” and by unaffiliated casual observers as simply “unbelievable.” By 10 a.m., lift lines ceased to be an option for anyone lacking the patience of a Buddhist monk.
“We need to re-evaluate here,” said my skiing partner, Seth Holler, who had made the trek from his home at Aspen Highlands for a spring ski fix. The novelty of driving his new Dodge quad cab was wearing thin now that he had to fight for the right to park within half a mile of the slopes.
“It’s been awhile since I skied the pass,” I noted. “Maybe we should check it out.”
Once again, we weren’t alone in our thinking, although the unrestricted access to National Forest land along Highway 6 at Loveland Pass allowed the disorganized horde of skiers and snowboarders displaced from the ski areas to spread out in search of fresh snow. We hiked the ridge to an untracked north-facing line down to the road, then hitched back for three more quick passes through the forest, never waiting more than five minutes for a lift to the summit.
Skiing conservatively through 15 inches of powder only a day after the storm, we passed up Summit County classics such as “The Professor,” making a mental note to return once I was confident the snow had settled and the crowds had thinned.
By Tuesday, the Basin was back to its old self, and a new, smaller group of enthusiasts was eager to tackle the terrain. Hiking the in-bounds ridgeline to an expert area known as “The North Pole,” I ran into Dan Mitchell of Minturn, who convinced me to shimmy through a steep nook of rock and ice in order to access what he considered the best snow on the mountain. A dedicated ski bum, Mitchell was on his second consecutive day at Arapahoe
Basin after more than 100 for the season, alternating hikes up the 13,050-foot ridge with backcountry runs through the steep chutes known as the Beavers west of the area boundary when he could find a willing accomplice.
With avalanche beacon and shovel in tow, I filled that role, and we made our way out the backcountry access gate to ride the early afternoon corn snow before it turned to slush. Despite the terrain’s deadly reputation in the heart of winter, a well-timed spring approach yielded some of the finest turns of the season.
We were alone now, although evidence of other eager-beaver
skiers was everywhere. Indeed, as far as the eye could see, skiers and snowboarders were taking advantage of the abundance of above-treeline skiing Summit County had to offer, their signatures scrawled in snow. Some used the lifts to access the high alpine terrain, others only their feet, shuffling up steep slopes like a boxer going toe-to-toe with the champ.
Apparently there’s some fight left in us after all.
Staff writer Scott Willoughbycan be reached at 303-820-1993 or swilloughby@denverpost.com.
