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Last month, Hollie Headrick andI had the opportunity to visitSilverton Mountain on the kind ofwintery-cold, bluebird, fresh-snow day theSan Juan's are so famous for.
That day, we were driving over theinfamous Red Mountain Pass, arguably thegnarliest open-in-winter pass in the lower48.A couple of inches of new snow coveredthe pavement so we kept our speed down,navigating each turn even more carefully.
When we crested the pass and lookeddown into the valley below, our spiritssoared even higher as the morning cloudsparted, the sun came out, and the steep,snow-covered mountains all around ussparkled like they had been strewn withmillions of tiny diamonds. The roadstraightened out and we began our descentinto the valley. We drove slowly down theempty main drag, and finally reached ourdestination.
We walked over towards the lift wherethere were several groups of 8 to 10 skiersand boarders milling around. We geared up.A few minutes later our guide Alex's radiocame alive with the news that our groupwas ready to go, so we all walked down tothe lift, got our skis on and prepared to beloaded up.
Seconds before the oddly4 familiarchair swung up behind and whisked us offour feet I turned to Alex who was standingoff to the side and said, "Alex, it's like adream come true." He laughed, smiledhugely and said, "A dreamer and a quiettown have come together." And with thatwe were off and heading up the mountainfor the first time that day.
Our ride climbed steeply, crested a ridge, lifted us above thetrees and flattened out a little as Hollie and I got our first good lookat the incredible terrain we'd be skiing in a few minutes. Big openbowls were off to the right, steep tree runs to the left and huge rockymountains plastered with snow encircled everything. The view wassimply stunning.
Alex told us to follow him along the ridge to the north and wesoon came to the far left side of a bowl full of powder and a few tracksfrom earlier that morning. Right away we got the idea that Alex wasbeing exceedingly careful in choosing our route, doing everything bythe books.
Alex went ahead and aggressively ski cut6 a sectionoff to skier's right before heading down to our prearrangedmeeting spot in a safety zone across the little valley. Thefolks in our group generously suggested that I go first soI could shoot photos, I thanked them and went ahead anddropped in.
The bowl was steep and the snow was light. I foundan untracked line off to the right, then cut back to the leftacross the tracks to another area. This was a place to letthe boards run, to get down and ride the rails7 in the softpowder with a deep and forgiving base that pushed backever so gently. It was a big bowl and I wanted to stophalf way down to savor the moment, but then I thoughtabout the group and how they were probably all anxiousto hit this pitch, so 1 went ahead and flashed it over to Alex.
I was feeling the 12,000-foot elevation as I pulledup, and about all I could croak out was a weak "holycow,"but that was enough. Alex got the idea andsmiled broadly as he watched the next skier headdown. The Alpine guy ripped a direct line with thesmoky powder flying over his head lighting up againstthe blue, blue sky. Hollie came down next and arrivedas out of breath as I had been. We enjoyed watchingthe rest of the group tear it up and then it was time tomove over to the next pitch, an exit line through treesleading down to a catwalk out to the road.
Since several of the routes in this area led to this exit path-obviously chosen because it was a safe route, and out of the way ofvarious avalanche paths all around--the short line was bumped out, alittle scraped, steep, technical, and challenging.
We finished two more runs, both in the trees to the north of the lift.The powder was deep, the treed terrain steep, and mostly tight and... oh,did I mention that it was steep? Like 45 degrees steep. And although wehad been given instructions as far as the definite boundaries we shouldstay within, skiing these trees gave us a little more of an opportunity tofreelance a bit and choose our own route.
Still, this was expert terrain and it took a lot of effort. The traverses were barely long, yet took more time due to the fact that we stoppedevery once in awhile to cross avalanche paths one at a time. Yet eachtime we had been rewarded with a unique opportunity to play withgravity while floating through the fluff.
By the time we got down to the road and began to ski the shortdistance back to the lift the suu was hot and we were tired, hungry andthirsty. But we grabbed something to drink from the van and decided torally for one last runt our fourth for the day.
This time we peeled off on a high traverse above the open bowls(from the lift). Working our way down an open ridge top the snow wasvariable but mostly soft.
Arriving at the meeting spot. Alex explainedthat the last shot would be down through some steepcliff bands, but on the way there he gave membersof the group an option to veer off through a lesstechnical section or to continue another 50 yards orso out onto the cliffs. We all chose the cliffs...
It had been an incredible and unique day,one that Hollie and I both agreed we would notsoon forget. Silverton had rocked us hard. Andbeyond the skiing, for me, it was pretty much aday of nothing less than total reaffirmation... Justsometimes, with persistence, dedication, hardwork and a belief in the path you are on, dreams dobecome reality.
That day, we were driving over theinfamous Red Mountain Pass, arguably thegnarliest open-in-winter pass in the lower48.A couple of inches of new snow coveredthe pavement so we kept our speed down,navigating each turn even more carefully.
When we crested the pass and lookeddown into the valley below, our spiritssoared even higher as the morning cloudsparted, the sun came out, and the steep,snow-covered mountains all around ussparkled like they had been strewn withmillions of tiny diamonds. The roadstraightened out and we began our descentinto the valley. We drove slowly down theempty main drag, and finally reached ourdestination.
We walked over towards the lift wherethere were several groups of 8 to 10 skiersand boarders milling around. We geared up.A few minutes later our guide Alex's radiocame alive with the news that our groupwas ready to go, so we all walked down tothe lift, got our skis on and prepared to beloaded up.
Seconds before the oddly4 familiarchair swung up behind and whisked us offour feet I turned to Alex who was standingoff to the side and said, "Alex, it's like adream come true." He laughed, smiledhugely and said, "A dreamer and a quiettown have come together." And with thatwe were off and heading up the mountainfor the first time that day.
Our ride climbed steeply, crested a ridge, lifted us above thetrees and flattened out a little as Hollie and I got our first good lookat the incredible terrain we'd be skiing in a few minutes. Big openbowls were off to the right, steep tree runs to the left and huge rockymountains plastered with snow encircled everything. The view wassimply stunning.
Alex told us to follow him along the ridge to the north and wesoon came to the far left side of a bowl full of powder and a few tracksfrom earlier that morning. Right away we got the idea that Alex wasbeing exceedingly careful in choosing our route, doing everything bythe books.
Alex went ahead and aggressively ski cut6 a sectionoff to skier's right before heading down to our prearrangedmeeting spot in a safety zone across the little valley. Thefolks in our group generously suggested that I go first soI could shoot photos, I thanked them and went ahead anddropped in.
The bowl was steep and the snow was light. I foundan untracked line off to the right, then cut back to the leftacross the tracks to another area. This was a place to letthe boards run, to get down and ride the rails7 in the softpowder with a deep and forgiving base that pushed backever so gently. It was a big bowl and I wanted to stophalf way down to savor the moment, but then I thoughtabout the group and how they were probably all anxiousto hit this pitch, so 1 went ahead and flashed it over to Alex.
I was feeling the 12,000-foot elevation as I pulledup, and about all I could croak out was a weak "holycow,"but that was enough. Alex got the idea andsmiled broadly as he watched the next skier headdown. The Alpine guy ripped a direct line with thesmoky powder flying over his head lighting up againstthe blue, blue sky. Hollie came down next and arrivedas out of breath as I had been. We enjoyed watchingthe rest of the group tear it up and then it was time tomove over to the next pitch, an exit line through treesleading down to a catwalk out to the road.
Since several of the routes in this area led to this exit path-obviously chosen because it was a safe route, and out of the way ofvarious avalanche paths all around--the short line was bumped out, alittle scraped, steep, technical, and challenging.
We finished two more runs, both in the trees to the north of the lift.The powder was deep, the treed terrain steep, and mostly tight and... oh,did I mention that it was steep? Like 45 degrees steep. And although wehad been given instructions as far as the definite boundaries we shouldstay within, skiing these trees gave us a little more of an opportunity tofreelance a bit and choose our own route.
Still, this was expert terrain and it took a lot of effort. The traverses were barely long, yet took more time due to the fact that we stoppedevery once in awhile to cross avalanche paths one at a time. Yet eachtime we had been rewarded with a unique opportunity to play withgravity while floating through the fluff.
By the time we got down to the road and began to ski the shortdistance back to the lift the suu was hot and we were tired, hungry andthirsty. But we grabbed something to drink from the van and decided torally for one last runt our fourth for the day.
This time we peeled off on a high traverse above the open bowls(from the lift). Working our way down an open ridge top the snow wasvariable but mostly soft.
Arriving at the meeting spot. Alex explainedthat the last shot would be down through some steepcliff bands, but on the way there he gave membersof the group an option to veer off through a lesstechnical section or to continue another 50 yards orso out onto the cliffs. We all chose the cliffs...
It had been an incredible and unique day,one that Hollie and I both agreed we would notsoon forget. Silverton had rocked us hard. Andbeyond the skiing, for me, it was pretty much aday of nothing less than total reaffirmation... Justsometimes, with persistence, dedication, hardwork and a belief in the path you are on, dreams dobecome reality.