Two Days, Two New Resorts - Monarch and Crested Butte

Riding the lifts at Monarch, I heard from more than one stranger, “Yeah, my buddies wussed out because they thought it was going to be too cold.” Then we’d laugh. It was one of the best days of the season and everyone knew it.

Riding the lifts at Monarch, I heard from more than one stranger, “Yeah, my buddies wussed out because they thought it was going to be too cold.” Then we’d laugh. It was one of the best days of the season and everyone knew it.

We left Denver and we were on the slopes at 11am. And that’s with the poor driving conditions. And by “poor” I mean “deadly.” My knuckles were white as we made our way down certain stretches of highway 285. The white-outs, icy roads, and what must have been 80mph cross winds took their toll on my nerves, but it was all worth it. By 10:00am I was having the time of my life. Monarch was all blue skies and, ironically, as calm as could be.

With about a foot and a half of new snow a couple days before and four inches fresh that morning, I was in powder heaven. My friends and I ran out the trees on either side of Panorama lift for about 3 hours, throwing in a mogul run every now-and-then. Even being on snowboards, moguls were no problem for us. Actually, they were sweet. Not too often you hear that from a boarder.

Before lunch, we put in a little hike so we could crash and burn off a cornice. I strapped on my teles and spent the rest of the day making lunges trying to look like I knew what I was doing on them. I’m guessing my front didn?t work too well, as I ate it quite a bit. It didn’t matter. I was having the time of my life.

The next morning we hit Crested Butte’s famed steeps. Maybe the steeps hit us. I’m not sure. What I am sure of is the diaper I should have worn. Crested Butte is by far the fastest mountain I’ve ever been on. The speeds I was reaching were incredible. I’m lucky I didn’t accidentally go back in time.

At the bottom of the first run my friends and I laughed with nervous histaria as we all realized that this place was no joke. I was trying NOT to get air over the rollers for fear of the landing. “Keep it on the ground and everything will be OK,” I kept telling myself. That, and “Don’t crap your pants.”

I made it through the weekend unsoiled. My friends and I found some powder, some blue skies, and even made it home in time to get groceries while everyone else was watching football. Not too shabby.