Lo-Fidelity: Does this season have an off-switch?

While gingerly picking my way down an apocalyptic-looking Aspen Highlands last Saturday, it occurred to me I was simultaneously seeing, and skiing, history. All the cancellations, closures and early shuttering of both Buttermilk and Highlands feel kinda Covid-y. My heart goes out to the eager employees who came here for their first-year “Intro to Aspen, 101” class. Maybe they’ll get an incentive coupon to return.

My gut (Like, literally, I’m getting one) tells me this season will be dissected, scrutinized and studied on a whole ‘nother level. 20 years from now on gondolas, chondolals, chairlifts, T-Bars and barstools all over town, sun-damaged ol’ timers like me will be regurgitating overblown war stories to the young’uns or anyone else who’ll listen. The ski season of 2025/26 will age in the annals of Aspen ski history like a fine wine cooler.

The last time anything like this happened was nearly five decades ago. The term “global warming” hadn’t even been invented yet. Some Americans seemed more worried we were headed for another ice age. Still, here in Aspen, the hoopla surrounding the ominous winter drought of 1976/77 served as a massive wake-up call and ended up being the impetus to install snowmaking systems. 

This season will also serve as an important case study of how resorts function during drought years. Not only that, we’ll have a proven, patent-able “how to” model. Every single aspect will be analyzed — from snowmaking, to grooming, ski patrol, ski school, staffing, pricing, inventory, hospitality and transportation — what we did right and what we could’ve improved on. Even so, fingers will be pointed. Businesses are hurting right now. 

In light of Buttermilk and Highlands closing prematurely, it’s pretty incredible to look back on a period that people are misguidedly calling the “worst season ever.” 

We somehow miraculously hosted World Cup events on two different mountains. In addition, we pulled off the X Games, Snow League and a wildly-successful NorAm finals last weekend. All four mountains opened on-time and offered top to bottom skiing. Even the bowl was open on closing weekend after half the whole thing slid. All things considered, that’s a pretty solid season in my book. 

If you think this is the worst season ever, I got bad news for you: Things here can get a whole lot worse. Think about it. 

Here’s what I’d prioritize if I were boss of SkiCo: finalizing top-to-bottom snowmaking at Highlands, Buttermilk and Snowmass. This marvelous feat of engineering would be the ultimate insurance policy and come at a stupendous cost: physical, financial, political and perhaps even ethical.

People ask me if I remember anything from the ski season of 76/77. I don’t. Not a lick. As a fourth grader in Mr. Vanion’s class at the Red Brick upper elementary, I couldn’t have cared any less about ski conditions. Perhaps being shown pictures followed by hypnotization or a whipping would trigger some memories, but frankly, I was probably more concerned about playing artillery in gym class and the lack of good skitching. 

Fast-forward 49 years, and I’m up to my neck in the ski industry. Ski conditions predicate my work environment. When business is slow, I’m forced to go skiing. Safe to say, I’ve been doing a lot of skiing lately.  

I don’t count my ski days anymore; I pay people to do it for me. I stopped in the Tiehack turnstile and looked at the screen to see how many days I had accumulated as of late. Math quickly dawned on me that if I skied every day until the published closing date, I’d get my coveted (in some circles) 100 days of skiing pledge pin. Suddenly everything changed. I’m now on an end-of-season ski jihad like never before.

Part of my mission is to finish the season strong, check all the ski area boxes and really lean-into the misery. I bid farewell to Highlands on Saturday with a final bowl lap, followed by the obligatory morning shift over at 1A on Sunday. 

The rapid rate at which the remaining snowpack has been melting is truly astonishing. I ski for my sanity and some semblance of physical fitness, both of which seem to be in a similar state of decline. My main concern? Don’t get hurt now.

And then right on cue, Mother Nature pulls the ultimate gag: a dicey April Fool’s powder day. 

Contact Lorenzo via suityourself@sopris.net.