Lo-Fidelity: The art of the pivot

This ski season has been all about the art of the pivot. Be flexible. Be creative. Be a problem solver. Show a willingness to adapt. Practice patience, and learn to be happy with what you have. You’d probably laugh right in my face if I told you the skiing has been surprisingly good.

SkiCo and all those in uniform with name tags deserve a big “thank you,” followed by a rousing round of applause for keeping Aspen Mountain open until the published closing date. They could’ve easily flipped the switch and shut down this dog and pony show weeks ago. But they didn’t. They kept their word and honored their commitments like they’ve been doing all season. Aspen never disappoints.

There were a couple of key factors at play here from my perspective. The first was people had booked vacations and ski school lessons. They were coming here regardless. Did anyone notice all of the Spanish-speaking tourists last week? That’s because of “Semana Santa,” the Latin holy week. Every year right around Easter, they show up in Aspen in eager droves.

The second was the annual National Disabled Veterans Winter Sports Clinic in Snowmass. When Snowmass closed, so did our only remaining beginner slopes. It’s worth mentioning SkiCo rightfully kept the Elk Camp Meadows open exclusively for the group. I was thrilled to see the vets up on Ajax last week and had some really meaningful interactions with the attendees and staff I won’t soon forget. 

Next, SkiCo called a very creative audible; they assembled a beginner area atop Aspen Mountain on the gentle terrain just behind the gondola. I went and checked it out. The kids and adults learning to ski up there were having an absolute blast. I was super impressed with the improvised operation. It’s also worth pointing out that the very first beginner ski school in Aspen was at Aspen Mountain. 

I’ve heard several people say we stayed open just for bragging rights. I don’t think that’s necessarily the case. The “first to open and last to close” contest is a futile race we’ve never won and never will. I feel more like they kept it open for us, for the town and for the passholders like you and me who ski because skiing’s our identity and keeps us borderline sane. We need our daily dose of “Vitamin-ski.” Without it, we become an absolute menace to society.

I’d also like to think they kept Ajax open not solely as a flex of some sort but more as a courtesy to the smattering of various passers-through, like accommodating curious pass holders from other ski towns whose mountains shuttered prematurely. 

It seems like just last November I was being ferried up Elk Camp Meadows by the magic carpet or doing laps on Fanny Hill off the Skittles gondola because that was the best available pitch of man-made snow on which to swizzle. People thought I was crazy then. Next thing you know, it’s April, and I’m walking down the last pitch of Little Nell run in ski boots through ankle-deep mud. 

I’ve skied such a bounty of slush this spring, my boots have been drenched. While driving into town to go skiing the other day, I gagged and wondered, “For the love of Lysol, what’s that smell?” Was there somehow a wet Newfoundland hiding in the back of my van? It reeked like water-damaged carpet. Lo and behold, the ungodly stench was that of my ski boots as the car heater activated the pungent bacteria. I’ll definitely be throwing those boots into the dumpster on Sunday afternoon at 4 p.m. 

The things I’ve witnessed on our four mountains this year have been astonishing. From the top of the Cirque to the bottom of Little Nell, those occurrences included but are not limited to: phantom openings, sudden closures, rivers flowing down ski trails, rocks rolling down groomed terrain, snowcats driving over dirt and concrete and a rotten snowpack collapsing right underneath your feet as you’re skiing. Were the mountains trying to tell us something? I swear, I thought I heard Ajax whisper, “Close me.” 

Through all of these different vignettes up on the hill, I’ve noticed a common theme: a robust local ski community that always shows up with determination and grit, entirely unwilling to give up. No matter what cards we’ve been dealt, we rally, improvise and make the best of what’s around. SkiCo helped remind us of a virtuous concept: Where there’s a will, there’s a way. 

Contact Lorenzo via suityourself@sopris.net.