with the first signs of snow. It is around this time of year that I get itchy for the soon to be (hopefully) snow covered peaks of Northern New Mexico and Colorado. I search the weather reports for winter storms headed toward the Southwest and get butterflies when I see any trace of activity. I've had an affinity for winter probably since I was born, given the fact that my birthday falls 11 days after the equinox; in 7th grade I was the "Snow Queen" for Halloween, and still lay claim to the title.
It would be safe to say that I have been skiing since before I could walk, back in the day when it was still acceptable, and widely popular, to strap your kid to your back and go flying down the mountain at a commercial ski area. I tried snowboarding a few years ago, but quickly decided two boards were better than one and haven't looked back. For a long time I was a cautious skier, wary of making a left turn because it required me to put weight on my right leg which has always been weaker. I waited as long as I possibly could to make that turn, traversing to the edge of the trail, stopping, then proceeding nervously. In recent years however, I have continually gone for the more challenging terrain: the bump runs, trees (skiing in between them), and knee-deep powder; the groomers that used to be my haven don't quite satisfy me anymore, though I do love the occasional fast carving run. There is a certain satisfaction that comes with the familiar burning in the calves after the descent of a steep powder run.
Every year around Christmastime my family plans a trip to Wolf Creek in southern Colorado. Advertised as receiving "the most snow in Colorado," they get an average of 465 natural inches (roughly 40 feet) in a single season. The best thing about Wolf Creek, aside from the snow and terrain, is they are still (for now) a small, family-run area. Wolf Creek has yet to be consumed by a big resort "village" at the base of the mountain, though there has been a continuous (rightfully rejected) proposal for years; last year we signed a petition to try once again to cease the possibility of development.
Closer to home we head for Pajarito Mountain, which is New Mexico's best kept secret with some of the most diverse terrain in the state next to Taos Ski Valley, and no lift lines. Pajarito is a special place for a number of reasons: my dad and his siblings grew up skiing there; my aunt and uncle met there on the chairlift; my grandfather was on the ski patrol until his late 70s; and it is where I am continually amazed to still be skiing alongside him, now at the age of 88. During the winter he spends as many days as he can on the mountain and has taken to counting the number runs he can do in a single day; he was exuberant when he reached a record of 13 last year. When he feels like it, he tags along with us to Wolf Creek. He goes a bit slower these days and sticks to the groomers, but I swear nothing is going to stop this man from skiing until the day he dies.
So... it's off to Colorado this weekend, grandpa in tow, for a few days of pre-Christmas skiing. The weather here has been unseasonably warm and dry, but a big storm the end of this week will hopefully make for some great first tracks of the season.
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