Saddle Sore: See you on the hill!

The golden leaves were doing their final death march, the last shimmering dance to the ground soon to halt for another year. Winter stark of leafless trees was becoming the new look in the valley; grass had mostly turned to brown, and the surrounding peaks were covered in tantalizing new snow.

We’d played our last football game in Wagner Park, and up early the next morning, a Sunday, with a few sore spots from hard hits on the field and with a fresh dusting of snow, some buddies and I loaded into my car and took off for the top of Independence Pass.

Heart Attack Hill it’s called — a slice of treeless terrain just west of the Continental Divide, smooth, open, without any uphill conveyance other than one’s own legs. The vertical isn’t much, maybe 300 feet, maybe more, but it doesn’t really matter. That was “early opening” back when I was a kid, and we looked at it as much a conditioning exercise as a chance to make a few turns.

There isn’t much mention of Heart Attack Hill prior to 1978, which leads me to believe that is the reason it was never very crowded back when I was a high schooler. Of course, over the years, adjacent downhill trails include Mountain Boy Gulch on the Leadville side (if you like to live dangerously and don’t mind hidden ankle grabbers under thin, early season snow). On the other side of the Divide, toward Aspen, there is Fourth of July Bowl, nice and steep, long, and requiring caution in late fall or early winter. It all depends on snow depth. We hit it one July, and it wasn’t too bad, considering. Both those trails generally get skied all winter long nowadays.  

Unlike some of our friends, like Bill Von Stocken, who might have trekked up to St. Mary’s Glacier for early fall skiing, Heart Attack Hill was our mecca. (By the way, Von Stocken has put skis to snow for 300 uninterrupted, consecutive months.) Unsurprisingly,  once college beckoned me to the eastern slope, St. Mary’s Glacier became our go-to pre-season ski area. Doug Franklin, well-known local artist and photographer, was my guide.

Naturally, with the early opening of Arapaho Basin and sometimes Loveland, the asphalt ribbon of I-70 gets beaten down a bit with the onslaught of traffic from Aspen to those iconic areas before Aspen Mountain (the “Big Mountain”) opens. This year, Snowmass opens early, as well, which will be monumental in spreading out the crowds. Berthoud would sometimes be an early-open option, but the one time we tried it, it was closed for mechanical repair. We chose not to hike up. Jim Gile skis a lot of that country during the winter.

As previously mentioned, Heart Attack Hill on Independence (not to be confused with the also-named one on the west end of McLain Flats Road) didn’t get much mention in the papers before 1978, nor much afterwards, as well. However, in 1981, the Roaring Fork Valley was atwitter with the possible sighting of a capsule from outer space. An unidentified object was first spotted on the Leadville side by a motorist coming up toward our town. Followed to the top of the pass, the brightly lit object (on a full-moon night) passed precisely over Heart Attack Hill on its journey over the valley, on toward Carbondale and further, eventually disappearing to the west. Per the usual reporting results, that object is still unidentified.

We are down to it now. Likely, we will get plenty of snow, and excitement seems high about the upcoming winter. We’ve been talking about the backcountry (which is often a temptation) and not to put a caution on it, but it’s always good to remember that avalanches kill. Some terrain looks too good to pass up, but unless you’re reasonably certain about the stability of the snow, pass it up. Even if you think it’s OK to ski, don’t forget that the only reliably known avalanche experts are dead.

With that out of the way, let’s hit it. Lifts are running Saturday; eager skiers are getting their first taste of what’s to come, getting the kinks out of bodies and equipment. Even the curmudgeonly guy writing this column is anxious to roll, hoping he can find his gloves and that his boots still fit. See you on the hill!

Tony Vagneur writes here on Saturdays and welcomes your comments at ajv@sopris.net.