Here we are. First day, first stop on the 3-week spring ski tour that will include Colorado, Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, Utah, and California. Jake and I woke up in Boulder around 5:30am, to get everything ready and be on the slopes at Breckenridge as early as possible. The views -- first of the Flatirons in Boulder, then of the Rockies -- were spectacular as always. We arrived in Breckenridge without traffic, but after that the day had an inauspicious start.
First, we realized Jake forgot his boots, so we had to stop at his brother Ty’s ski shop to get a pair. We picked up Ty and, upon hearing a sound uncannily like the back-door closing (with Ty presumably inside), Jake started to pull away. Only after we heard Ty’s screaming did we realize he was only half in the car -- and that Jake had run over his foot.
Heading up the first lift, I look to my right and see the wheels turning in Jake’s head. He’s snowboarded more than 20 days already this year and clearly is looking forward to relishing a day off of work and his first bluebird (abundant sunshine) day of the season. To my left I see Ty, 70 days under his belt already, and realize I’d better waive the caution flag.
“Guys, it’s my first day out, and keep in mind I was at sea level yesterday,” as the lift passes 11,000 feet in altitude (Breck tops out around 13,000 feet).
“OK, we’ll start slow,” they both say before mumbling something about hitting the bowls before lunchtime.
Off the lift we go and, before I can get my bearings, we’re barreling down black diamonds. On the second run of the day, Ty leads us off to the edge of one run, bends under the rope and sign saying Ski Boundary -- do not cross, and turns to make sure I’m following him. We ski through some thick, untouched, and truly awesome glades (see picture of Ty putting his entire pole, and arm, into the snow without touching the ground) before emerging in an open area.
This is followed by a 10-minute hike/traverse to get higher above the fresh powder.
So, to recap our “slow” start: two black diamonds, breaking the boundary into 8-foot powder glades, and now pulling our way up at 11,000 feet -- 18 hours after I left sea level. Needless to say, I was winded and needed a break.
But then came the payoff, and what a reward it was.
We then scooted over to Peak 8, the highest at Breck, to hit the bowls. On the lift up, Ty was telling us about his friend who once started off these bowls by doing a double-front flip, on his skis, off of the cornice (ledge) at the top. On purpose. We get to 13,000 feet, make a right turn, and head for Whale’s Tail Bowl. Ty stops at the edge of the foreboding, 8-footish cornice and says, “It’s a little easier if you head down there,” pointing to his left.
“Where can I get down without heading over the cornice?” I asked.
“You can’t.”
Our “slow” start continues. I bite my lip, yelp a bit, and survive. The run down is a reminder of why people come out west: soft snow, wide birth, and long runs. It felt like we were the only people on the run
Some more skiing, then lunch, and the real fun started. We went to return to the bowls on Peak 8 but the wind had starting whipping so much that they closed the two highest lifts. Oh well, we’ll head for the other peaks. Closed, too. Eventually we realized that practically every lift above the tree line was shut down*.
Jake suggests taking one of the remaining lifts and hiking up to his favorite runs, Twin Chutes, high above Peak 9. By this time we’ve met up with Ty’s friend, the double-front-flipper. As we get off the lift, he looks at us and says, “You guys hike if you want. I’m telling you the wind is gonna be terrible up there, I’m not going.”
Crazy enough to try a double-front-flip off a cliff at the top of a bowl at 13,000 feet, but he didn’t want to do this hike. I thought it was a good sign that this was a bad idea, but I let ego get the better of me and went along. And then the fun started.
The higher we got, the stronger the wind pushed against us. Gusts were above 60mph. We took several rests. More than once during the 40-minute hike we almost quit. Ty said his skis felt like they weighed 200 lbs. on his shoulder. Jake held his board in front of his face to block the wind, to no avail. All I could muster were the words, “Yesterday I was at sea level. Now we’re hiking into gale-force winds at 12,000 feet.” This picture says it all:
We kept our heads down and eventually made it to the top of the run. The first quarter-mile or so was great; the wind and isolation made the snow several feet deep and untouched. The snow was worth the hike, at first.
Then it all went downhill.
First, I stumbled going down one portion and, upon continuing, wondered why my left ski wouldn’t stay above the powder. Looking down I realized it was because the ski was no longer attached -- it was 20 feet up the hill.
What a disaster. I tried hopping up with the ski on my right foot, thinking it would help me stay on top of the snow. No such luck. Then I kicked off the ski, but could walk up because I’d end up hip-deep in powder. Finally, an ungraceful combination of leaning across the snow, pulling my poles at an angle, and slowly crawling back to my ski -- this after 40 minutes of hiking. Eventually I continued down that section. The whole episode took a good 10 minutes. Jake and Ty watched from the bottom of the hill, presumably amused.
We get into the most challenging glades I’ve ever been in, called Windows. It was steep, slick, and with five-to-eight-foot holes all over the place. Before I knew it, I lost an edge flipped forward, head over heels, landing on my back side in one of said holes. My right arm was soaked -- I was in an exposed spring. After a few futile calls to my partners, I wedged one pole across the edge of the hole and pulled myself, as if doing a chin-up. Re-attached my skis, met up with my resting friends, and explained my latest brush with disaster.
The rest of the run through Windows was relatively uneventful, save for one last trip for good measure after a monstrous bump that Jake, perhaps out of pity, warned me about (note: not so much pity, though, that there was a route to avoid said bump).
That hike and subsequent run consumed almost two hours, all of our energy, and most of my confidence. At some point during the run I’d also managed to mangle one of my poles.
The day concluded with a few more conventional runs, no notable occurrences, and us quickly heading to the nearest local establishment for much-needed calories.
It was an epic day: we skied 18,500 vertical feet (according to a chip in Jake’s season pass); hit every peak at the resort, and were now armed with our best ski/hike story ever. At one point during dinner, Ty looked over and said, “I’m totally beat, I can’t imagine how you feel on your first day.”
“What would have happened if I hadn’t asked you to take it easy,” I responded. They just laughed. Joke’s on the new guy, I guess.
Breck had chewed me up and spit me out -- with a bent pole and sore back by which to remember it. Can’t ask for a better start to a ski trip than that.
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[Each stop on the tour will be reviewed, with several topics on a scale of 1 to 10]
Breckenridge Review
Mountain terrain: 8
Lifts/lines: 6 -- the wind took out half the lifts on the mountain for the entire afternoon. In this sense, Breck's height works against it.
Town: 9 -- think Aspen, but much less expensive.
Stats
Base Elevation: 9,600 feet / 2,926 meters
Summit Elevation: 12,998 feet / 3,963 meters
Vertical Rise: 3,398 feet / 1,036 meters
*Ty said it was the windiest day he’d seen in his three years at Breck. Upon returning to the shop after skiing, one of the owners walked out, looked up at the peaks, and simply said “wow.” Suffice it to say, it was windy.
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