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ASPEN — Even a novice skier from the Deep South should get to enjoy a powder day with sunny blue skies every now and then, right?
I woke up Tuesday morning super-early — around 9:15 — with great eagerness, having caught a glimmer of the sun that's been missing for a couple of days. It had been about six weeks since my last venture to Buttermilk, and I knew the mountain was full of powder. With a singular mindset of stretching my creaky bones and hitting the trails as soon as I could, I got the hell out of Hunter Creek by 10 a.m.
Aside from fishtailing all the way down Highway 82 — this after getting my beat-up S-10 Chevy truck stuck in ice for five minutes at the corner of Mill and Main next to the Jerome — it was turning out to be a picture-perfect day. KTND-FM was playing some of my favorite oldies: Stevie Wonder's “For Once in My Life,” The Temptation's “Papa was a Rolling Stone,” even The Lovin Spoonful's “Daydream.” I was in the best mood I've had since Lundi Gras. And no alcohol was involved.
What can I say about the West Buttermilk adventure? It was the best skiing I've ever done in my life. For about 90 minutes, I felt like a champ, rarely stopping and casting aside the trail map to trust my “instincts” on the greens. Feeling brave, I hit the middle part of the mountain, scooting quickly down No Problem and slaying the Bear.
At Bumps restaurant, Craig the friendly bartender suggested I sample the Tiehack area. The powder is so deep over there, he said, it'll be a lot slower than usual. He wasn't trying to push me over the edge; he was just getting me to challenge myself a little.
I took up his suggestion, and I'm not sure whether it was the right call. But whatever; no guts, no glory? I managed my way down Sterner Gulch and some other steep blues; I certainly crossed over into some areas that weren't meant for me. He was right; the powder was knee deep and sometimes tough to navigate. I managed my way down to the lift, but fell a few times in the process. I was out of my comfort zone.
Still, talk about a great day, despite losing much of the feeling in my legs. The last run down Homestead Road at around 1:30 p.m. was tiring, but it was nice to have that semi-satisfying feeling of moderate accomplishment.
Now I am ready for summer.
asalvail@aspentimes.com
I woke up Tuesday morning super-early — around 9:15 — with great eagerness, having caught a glimmer of the sun that's been missing for a couple of days. It had been about six weeks since my last venture to Buttermilk, and I knew the mountain was full of powder. With a singular mindset of stretching my creaky bones and hitting the trails as soon as I could, I got the hell out of Hunter Creek by 10 a.m.
Aside from fishtailing all the way down Highway 82 — this after getting my beat-up S-10 Chevy truck stuck in ice for five minutes at the corner of Mill and Main next to the Jerome — it was turning out to be a picture-perfect day. KTND-FM was playing some of my favorite oldies: Stevie Wonder's “For Once in My Life,” The Temptation's “Papa was a Rolling Stone,” even The Lovin Spoonful's “Daydream.” I was in the best mood I've had since Lundi Gras. And no alcohol was involved.
What can I say about the West Buttermilk adventure? It was the best skiing I've ever done in my life. For about 90 minutes, I felt like a champ, rarely stopping and casting aside the trail map to trust my “instincts” on the greens. Feeling brave, I hit the middle part of the mountain, scooting quickly down No Problem and slaying the Bear.
At Bumps restaurant, Craig the friendly bartender suggested I sample the Tiehack area. The powder is so deep over there, he said, it'll be a lot slower than usual. He wasn't trying to push me over the edge; he was just getting me to challenge myself a little.
I took up his suggestion, and I'm not sure whether it was the right call. But whatever; no guts, no glory? I managed my way down Sterner Gulch and some other steep blues; I certainly crossed over into some areas that weren't meant for me. He was right; the powder was knee deep and sometimes tough to navigate. I managed my way down to the lift, but fell a few times in the process. I was out of my comfort zone.
Still, talk about a great day, despite losing much of the feeling in my legs. The last run down Homestead Road at around 1:30 p.m. was tiring, but it was nice to have that semi-satisfying feeling of moderate accomplishment.
Now I am ready for summer.
asalvail@aspentimes.com
