Lo-Fidelty: Skiing shale’s a dirty job, and I’m the man to do it

July 4 morning I awoke to a horrific sight — a scene so chilling, so ironic, so unexpected that I was thrust into an emotional midsummers’ tailspin. As the Tour de France streaked across the flat screen, I noticed yellow leaves had fallen on the Kentucky bluegrass lawn underneath my well-manicured crabapple tree. I felt that undeniable pre-ski season gnawing in my bones. I needed to go skiing.

I’d been scouting another dirt skiing line for the past year. Now was the time to strike. In retrospect, skiing shale bluffs last summer was a cry for help — a wolf cry that no one answered. The only possible motivation for someone to do something that reckless was an insatiable thirst for attention or a sadistic quest to self-sabotage.

I limped out to my shed and feverishly attempted to groom a path to my quiver of skis. After nearly getting gored by a falling chainsaw and then stepping on and getting whacked by a remorseless, steel-tined landscape rake, I wasn’t sure what was more dangerous: skiing on dirt or my shed.

When it comes to skis, I have three pairs: one for going up (skinning skis), another for coming down (alpine skis), and a pair that goes sideways (cross country skis). After a rigorous assessment, none of the aforementioned pairs were up to the dirty deed. I’d painted myself into a corner. I went back inside and looked out the kitchen window in consternation.

Just then, as if a messenger from heaven appeared before my very eyes, I saw my neighbor walking out to the trash shed carrying two pairs of skis. My prayer had been answered. Much to my astonishment, there was a perfectly good, rusted-out, 184cm pair of Head Mötorhead Sacrifice skis already pre-adjusted to fit my 27.5 Rossignol ski boots. I took this dumpster-diving prophecy as a planetary dirt skiing alignment that should not go unheeded.

My second foray into shale skiing was a huge success. The turns were buttery as if skiing freshly groomed, peel-away corn (aka cornuroy). I’d even go as far as to call my line a “first ascent.” The smoky, midnight-grey, fossil-rich Mancos shale formation on the Rio Grande Trail across from the Airport Business Center is a plentiful, untapped natural resource for high-quality shale skiing. The sediment is fine; the approach is simple by foot, horse, or bicycle. There’s even a natural spring nearby with the tastiest water in the upper valley you can drink from a cupped-hand.

My mind is running riot with the potential dirt ski fashion options and accessories, dirt ski technological breakthroughs, nicknames for different dirt conditions, potential dirt run names, marketing the sport to beginners, and how the uphilling community and snooty ski purists in immaculate white ski outfits are going to react.

I feel like I’m maturing as a shale skier: seeking those prime dirt conditions and picking a more wieldy pitch. The line I skied Monday night was like skiing Naked Lady after the noon-groom.

I hear a lot of locals boasting about their pins and how they ski every day, but I don’t see any other dirt skiers. I’m confused; I thought this was a ski town. Do I get a dirt skiing pin? Does skiing dirt in July count as a ski day?

My shale skiing career is just getting started, and as far as I can tell climate-wise, I’m sitting in the catbird seat. There’s a surplus of old, beater skis lying around town, and according to scientists and various experts, an impending dearth of snow to ski on in our near future. This is starting to feel like I’m on the cusp of something bigger here, something that could propel Aspen into the future of skiing — the dirt skiing capital of the world. Just think: Some year in the future, Aspen could host the inaugural world cup of dirt skiing.

Snow?! We don’t need no stinking snow! Old ski bums never die — they simply adapt. The only New Year’s resolution that’s ever stuck is the one I made to ski my life away in Aspen. I wonder, as we careen towards an inevitable future of climate uncertainty, is the Aspen Skiing Company looking for a dirt skiing ambassador? Asking for a friend …

Contact Lorenzo via email at suityourself@sopris.net.