After our South American summer vacation, Maggie and I were in Colorado, thrust back into the heart of winter. Attempting to save a little money, and knowing that we would be spending a good chunk of time abroad, we decided to forgo ski passes for the 22-23 season and devote more time to backcountry skiing.
We are both competent skiers inbounds, seeking out some of the steeper and gnarlier lines that resorts offer. However, backcountry skiing is a whole different animal. Dropping in out of bounds quickly makes me feel like a beginner all over again.
I think the biggest difference is in the snow, which sounds weird, right? Snow is snow is snow, but you have probably heard that Inuit languages have a dozen words for snow. That sounds absurd, until you start spending more time with crystallized clouds. At the resort there are groomers, snow makers, and steady ski traffic all working to compact and stabilize snow into a fairly homogenous surface. Sure, some days are icy, some days have fresh powder, but in general you can expect supportive snow that you can carve into.
Once you step out of bounds, all that input from the human hand goes away and the snow is subjected to ever changing winter weather. Water is a master shape shifter. Here on Earth, we are lucky enough to experience water as a solid, a liquid, and a gas. The constant dance between these three states makes a unique snow pack every year. This affects both skiing conditions and avalanche hazard. Maggie and I quickly learned this on our first few backcountry outings. Melt-freeze crusts, wind slabs, wind drifts, and faceted depth hoar (just to name a few) are things one rarely thinks about at the resort.
The other major difference I’ll mention is that you earn your turns in the backcountry. Hiking, or rather skinning, uphill is a great workout. Your warmth is stoked from within. The cold, dry winter air feels amazing on hot skin. But, after transitioning into downhill mode, I find my legs feel like jelly. The first couple turns are always a bit wobbly as I find my balance with fatigued muscles. Combined with irregular snow, I lurch my way down, feeling nothing like the badass skier I believe I am inbounds… Nevertheless, earning your turns is certainly more satisfying than riding the lift all day.
First, we had to get our skis out of storage in New Mexico, so we cruised down to Santa Fe on February 15th. The next day, we got out for a couple of “slack country” laps at our local resort, Ski Santa Fe. A little storm was rolling through, so we made sure to enjoy that sweet Southern Sangre de Cristo pow.
We weren’t exclusively skiing backcountry – our friends had planned a group ski trip to Wolf Creek, so we drove up to Pagosa Springs for the weekend to shred with ten companions. The first day at Wolf Creek was amazing! They too had gotten fresh snow from the recent storms, and the turns we soft all day. Maggie and I made sure to hike up Alberta Peak for a long, steep run of excellent snow.
The second day, we decided to skip the lift tickets and skin out to the outer edges of Wolf Creek with three friends. There is a section of the mountain that is inbounds, but it functionally has no lift service. We were pleased to find the entire slope untouched when we set the skin track. The five of us skied two laps, gleefully splashing powder left and right. We played (practiced?) a little bit with our avy gear at the base, and tested out the backcountry shot ski. Who ever said human powered skiing isn’t fun?
We rode the lifts one more day at Wolf Creek, though the snow conditions and the condition of our legs had both deteriorated. We ended the day early and returned to Salida, CO, where we would stay for the next couple months. This was our time to wind down from a year of adventure and look at re-integrating into society, searching jobs and a place to live. When the job hunt failed to entertain us, we got outside.
For our first proper backcountry outing, Maggie and I drove down to Cumbres Pass near the Colorado-New Mexico border. With ski lines barely topping 600 feet, the vertical relief here is nothing to write home about. However, the terrain is right in the sweet spot around 20° to 25° – steep enough to actually ski, but shallow enough to virtually rule out avalanche danger.
Cumbres Pass
We parked in a tiny clearing the snow plows had made near the base of our objective. We knew generally where we wanted to go, but route finding in new territory is always a challenge. Working our way through the trees, we made it to the top in half an hour. The biggest obstacle was the numerous rock solid snow drifts that had formed on the leeward side of every major tree. Some of them were about three feet tall! The drifts made for interesting skiing on the descent. We could catch a little air on the drifts, but more often, they would blend in with the surroundings and suddenly the ground would drop out beneath my skis. Very scary! Not too scary though. It was such a short line that we slapped the skins back on and went back up for a second lap. It was a fun and educational day out on the snow!
Next stop was Leadville for ski touring and skijoring. For the uninitiated, skijoring is a “competitive” sport in which a skier is pulled by a horse. In Leadville, they close off the main street, cover it with several inches of snow, and build jumps several feet tall. Fastest horse-skier team wins!
But I’m getting ahead of myself here – Maggie and I started the day by skinning out to Ball Mountain, just east of Leadville. The route mostly follows a mining road, with the last half mile or so along a ridge to the summit. Ball Mountain is also pretty mellow with perhaps 250 feet of decent terrain to really make turns. The snow was ok, fairly wind swept and punchy. Honestly, skiing down the road was probably more fun than the mountain! Still it was a great outing, and watching the skijoring afterwards was a bunch of fun. It looked equally thrilling and terrifying for these guys to launch down the street and send it off several large jumps. Kudos to those guys who do the skijoring, and all the horse riders who tow them!
We mixed in a couple of hikes when we didn’t feel like going through all the rigamarole of skiing. One outstanding hike was to The Crater, an old volcano 5 miles east of Salida. We had to tromp through some snow, but scrambling up the last half mile to the summit was a blast!
Another (unsuccessful) hike was attempting Mt. Ouray. We were breaking trail in snowshoes, often postholing. We turned around after a mile of struggling, but took some time to practice with avy gear.
Floundering on the flanks of Ouray
Next backcountry outing was to Snow Stake, a small basin just off of Monarch Pass. Late winter in Colorado had been exceptionally dry and windy. We discovered what this kind of weather does to untamed snow, learning the true definition of sastrugi.
Rock hard and swept into undulating forms, the snow was simply awful. My skins couldn’t get any grip on the second climb, and I ended up booting part of it. I had to call it quits after two short laps, even though Maggie wanted to stay out for some more.
Seeking redemption, we followed the weather forecast waiting for good snow. Just shy of the vernal equinox, a solid spring storm dropped a few feet of snow on Cumbres Pass. We had to go back. This time we parked closer to the top of the pass, much further from our ski line, but there were loads of snow mobile riders out. Their motors were rather annoying, but their tracks made it easy to cruise up to the top of Pinorealosa Mountain, which would have otherwise been a total slog of breaking trail.
Cumbres Pow Day!
It was a gorgeous day! The sun came out, snow was draped all over the spruce trees. We got two laps in our original spot, then a traversing run back to the car. The warm up mid day made the snow a bit wet, then by late afternoon, it was refreezing onto my skis. So many unexpected problems, but at least we get to have fun while we learn the secrets of snow.
A couple of friends from New Mexico were coming up to Salida and Leadville for a little vacation. Maggie and I linked up with them and the four of us hit Ball Mountain. We had hoped the recent storm improved the snow conditions up there, but Leadville hadn’t gotten much new snow. It was overcast and wildly windy up top, not what I would call ideal weather, but it did make for some cool photos!
Moody day on Ball Mountain
The skiing was fine, but still quite punchy – a crust had formed, which was supportive until you turned into it, then you would sink in to your ankles and lose your balance. Always something new!
A month later, late April now, a pair of spring storms brought some serious snow to Monarch ski resort. The resort had shut down for the season, but with skins, we are not bound to chair lift schedules. Several other people had the same idea, so we weren’t alone, but it was a far cry from the crowds on a typical powder day!
Monarch Pow Daze
There was untouched snow in every direction, but Maggie and I put in the extra effort to ski Mirkwood bowl for some fun steeps. I also tried booting 350 feet up a run called Gunbarrel, and I had forgotten how heavy skis feel on your back. These two days were an awesome end to our ski season.
Simply amazing…
Overall, I think we both gained a ton of confidence for future backcountry excursions! We can’t wait to get out and earn some more turns next season.
Distance Over Time 