My last post revealed my frustration with nature’s weather patterns and its reluctance to drop snow at my home-base Breckenridge Colorado. After making ourselves crazy with anticipation for the storm that the mainstream weatherman promised us and ultimately experiencing one of the largest let downs in my adult life, we decided take action and chase the storm that tried so persistently to avoid Breck. 4 hours and 140 miles to the south lies our snowy oasis that is Wolf Creek.
Waking up just after 4:30 AM Chris and I packed the A4 and began the loosely planed journey that would remind us why we headed out to the Rockies in the first place. The sun’s battle with the darkness of night ended victoriously, as it usually does, and the faintest rays of light started to highlight the crests of the perpetual mountain ranges we drove by once we overtook Hoosier Pass. The light revealed the San Isabel National Forest, a series of minuscule towns on the mountain flats, and the ever present Colorado Rockies that loomed on either side of us as we drove south down Rt. 285. As the hours passed, my anticipation and eagerness to throw myself into feet upon feet of powder snow grew relentlessly. The feeling was reminiscent of a time when I was still Santa Clause’s #1 fan and the, seemingly, endless wait for Christmas Eve to give way to Christmas Day. It would be a blasphemy to say that the excitement of a young boy waiting for Santa’s presents was greater than my eagerness for the snow at Wolf Creek, but it was damn close.
Eventually, we passed through the town of South Fork, which is essentially the gateway to Wolf Creek, and started to head up the meandering road that would bring us to our glory. It was amazing to see the snow levels increase on the side of the road as we continued up the 17 mile mountain pass. The snow started out at around a foot in South Fork, covering the reflectors on the side of the road about half way. A few miles up the pass I noticed the reflectors were completely covered, then I noticed the snow was piled up higher than the (very few) guard rails. A mile or two further and the snow was half way up the speed limit signs, and then as we were within a mile of Wolf Creek the 50 MPH speed limit signs were nearly hidden by snow, barely revealing the horribly generous speed for this particularly wild mountain pass.
Let’s fast forward to our walk from the A4 to the chairlift. The snow was so deep it was actually a struggle to walk to the lift. A post holing snowboard boot was a common occurrence on the short walk, making life much more difficult than necessary, the treasures of the struggle would be worth it…
My excitement nearly peaked as we hopped on our first chair ride up. There were hardly any tracks in the 55 fresh inches of weightless powder snow. Perfect.
I learned that being a on a snowboard is not as advantageous as being on skis in seriously deep snow. Seeing as Wolf Creek had a lot of “hike to” terrain, the typical snowboard skate method of traveling on flats was useless. A skier is able to traverse in powder with much more ease than one with a snowboard. I was also enlightened to the fact that a large snowboarder such as myself must avoid fresh tracks on mountain flats. Wolf Creek is a unique place. The top is very steep and the bottom is the essence of FLAT. I would start out fine on the steeps, fresh tracks galore, but when I reached the second half of the mountain I found myself in trouble and, ultimately, stuck up to my chest in powder… trust me I’m not complaining. On the first day I found myself stuck in bottomless powder 6 or 7 times, each silly crisis eating up about 10 or 15 minutes of time. It took me until my second day to realize that I needed to stick to other people’s tracks on the flats, otherwise I was in for a serious, energy siphoning, trouble.
Other than getting stuck on the flats, the trip was “epic.” The sensation of flying down a steep grade, dipping and weaving through trees, with fresh powder spraying in your face to the point where your can barely even see was one of the most significant thrills of my life. I will never forget that phenomenon, and hopefully I will get to experience something similar again.
The day was glorious and by night I was completely exhausted. We called it in around 2:30 or 3:00 as it was frigid outside and I was spent from digging myself out of powder. We grabbed a bite at a local restaurant, where we met the mayor of South Fork and proceeded to entertain him while we waited for our check. South Fork is a sparse town but the people in it were magnificent and worth mentioning. I will also mention that I tried my first “Country Fried Steak” that night, which was delicious, undoubtedly good for the soul but horrible for the body.
The second day was more glorious than our first, we skied until about 2:45 or 3:00 PM and called it quits. Needless to say, when riding in waist deep snow for 6 hours, you will be more sapped for energy than ever before in your life and your legs will scream with a triumphant soreness that will have you smiling regardless of the pain.
Our drive back breezed by and we were back in Breckenridge before we knew it. I finally got a taste of some serious snow and am waiting with anticipation for a lot more to come.
Cheers, more posts to follow.
