The Bacon Strip

Day 6, Dec. 28th, Winter Park, CO. A storm has left a foot of snow and a half-inch of glare ice in the lanes of I-25. No amount of coffee is sufficient for SB to deal with the traffic and white-knuckle driving conditions, and the Jetta gets tail-happy more than once on the drive down to Denver. After picking up Sheryl (a.k.a. SphincterGirl) and her sister in Arvada, the 50-mph frightfest continues up the grade west on I-70. Past Idaho Springs the road conditions finally improve and the rest of the journey is made in relative peace. The Mary Jane side of the resort is not too crowded, but the WP side is mobbed. I make my way over to the ski patrol desk where a friend has left me a comp ticket…never hurts to have friends on the ski patrol. There are four fracture cases waiting in the triage lounge (there is no other word for it) and moderate chaos ensues. Finally, I make my way to the lift line and get up the hill. It’s very cold but there’s a seamless cobalt sky and the Indian Peaks are all wearing little cap-clouds. For once there’s little wind. Regrettably, the author’s skiing does not prove worthy of the day and the grooves are few and far between. I ski one competent line near the Sunnyside lift, then throw a yardsale on the next run. Sheryl is doing little better, and by the time the lifts close, we conclude that the beer imperative will be required. It has been a bad day skiing, which everyone knows is still better than a lot of other things.

Day 7, Dec. 30th, Allenspark, CO. Sheryl is again my partner in crime. We rendezvous in Lyons, then drive up the road to a little settlement between Nederland and Estes Park, and park at the Rock Creek trailhead. The ridge three miles west provides some of the Front Range’s best moderate backcountry skiing: well-spaced spruces, your choice of steep or mellow, and an east-northeast exposure that is immune to windpack and cross-loading. Snow is falling heavily on the entire uphill march, but once again the wind-gods have taken the day off.The powder is soft and appears deep…and in most places, it actually is. I sketch a half-dozen turns down a steep face, hear the grrrrkk of a rock beneath my ski, then abruptly catapult onto my face. Whhofffff. Fortunately the snow is deeper and more consistent on the lower part of the face, and the day provides some nice turns in the trees. Sheryl gets in the groove and skis well until encountering another buried obstacle while crossing the uptrack. We make a second lap but the day is short and the snow is heavy and the light is dim. Cocktail hour and pizza at Oskar Blues Brewery beckons.