The Battle of the Bulge: Sex, snow monkeys and snow-sliding in paradise

People do not laugh in porn films. I know this, as I have seen exactly one porn film, and from that limited sample, I am convinced that there is little audible laughter present in the genre as a whole. I believe the net/net of seeing that film, and the subsequent coupling of a college room mate with a stripper, just days before his wedding, was enough to permanently steer me legions away from this particular form of – er – expression. Even if people do laugh in these films, it is not a gut laugh, a belly laugh, a carefree and totally un-self conscious release of bliss – like the one I heard this past Saturday morning, while the lifties dug out the Corona chair here at the Alma Mater – Eldora.

I will not lament the drought we have been experiencing, as it is covered elsewhere (see "Corona Redemption") but the days of cosmic inner expression, while choking on snow, have been few and far between. Opening day at Eldora this year was a powder day, and it was insane. It looked like a mountain, like winter, like the postcards of Colorado we see in the 7-11’s around the country. After that, and after a few months of 65 degree weather, the mountain has been suffering. A few good days here and there, but really, no rhythm, no consecutive days to really dig in and for Stella to get her groove on, at least until this last week, when for three amazing days, that all changed.

The snow falling Friday night had a quality that bespoke of greater things for the dawn. I was out shoveling the dirt path to the car, and looked back at the porch light, and was captivated by the image. The snow looked serious, like it was going to amount to something – this was a good feeling. When winter does not come to the high country, it feels like something essential is missing, and there is not the sense of seclusion, and the quiet of newly fallen snow that seems to quiet the world. It has been almost 6 years since we had a really heavy winter – and we are ready – we are waiting.

Saturday dawned foggy and cold, 12 degrees, and the snowline at Eldora was claiming five inches of the white. On a normal year, this would be a great thing, but we would want more. In our snow deprived state, this was a gift from God. The phone started ringing at about 6:45 with plans and confirmations for the day. In the winter, the pre-mountain bike planning calls of summer are replaced by caffeine fueled early morning snow queries. All interested parties called, and we headed up the road to the hill at the appointed 7:50 am in order to make first chair at 8:30.

There was a bunch of snow in the parking lot, and there were some tell tale piles that they had been pushing around. Seeing this is a great things. Volume. Snow management. Visible snow piles. This is what winter should look like. We got into the lift line, and George went through the maze checking passes. This is also a good thing, as George likes to let us get on the lift early, and we can all get to the back of the mountain a run before everyone else. Getting ahead is critical in the first moments of a powder day, especially in the thin years that we have been experiencing. Some of this ‘get ahead’ a few chairs may seem silly, and pointless, yet it is primarily unavoidable based on the patterns of coffee consumption, and the fact that the most ‘jacked’ time of the day coincides exactly with opening bell at the mountain. Based on these and other factors, I stepped off the lift at the top, pushed, clicked in, and headed for the back sans posse.

The harsh wake-up at Eldora is called Upper ambush. It is a maze of bumps on one of the steepest faces on the mountain. The typical ‘rotation’ involves hitting this first, despite the fact that you get about three turns in before you hit it, and this can make your body relatively unhappy (see day 3 back leg thigh pain after 15 hours of snowboarding in powder) and it is a serious rude awakening. That said, it usually harbors some of the best snow on the mountain due to it’s location, and angle. I bomb the face of Upper Ambush, taking a moment to look around and appreciate the depth of the snow, the light on the snow, and the fact that the only people I can see out of my periphery are very close friends. This is good – this is why we are here.

Gaining critical speed for the drop ‘Around the horn’ as it is called, recalls a giant, sweeping bottom turn of some few hundred yards from my world of unfrozen water – surfing. There is a blind corner that leads around to a long stretch of flat, and in turn around to the back of the mountain (‘scuse me – is this the legendary Corona Bowl?) and it is awesome to hit it with huge speed, tuck, and rip around the corner at what I have to imagine is 35 plus miles per hour. A few lip launches later, and we are at the chair on the back of the mountain, awaiting the spoils of the night time accumulation.

Reality check – this is Eldora – so it is indeed very rare that the chair on the back is actually functioning when we get there. We attribute this to the whole time/space continuum that rips open as one crosses from the front to the back of the mountain. An example: There have been days where they have called 3 inches on the snow report, where I have choked on snow as I dropped into the back of the mountain. We have also documented that the clock at the maze in the front of the mountain is actually 361% slower than ‘real time’ – I have compared my watch to the clock on the front, and the 19 minutes between when I get in line – and when the chair opens and the ‘real time’ worked out to 4 hours and 12 minutes. How is this possible? Since we have observed time telling devices in the lift shacks on the back, I can only assume that they are terminally never in sync with the time telling devices on the front. One day, we will simulcast a split screen real-time image of these devices to find what lies beneath, but until then – we can only assume that this has something to do with the apparent inability of the lefties on the back to have their shit together when the mountain opens at the same time every god damned day (HELLLLLLLLO!).

Anyway, we are standing there at the lift for a few moments, while they dig the chairs out (a great indicator) and we hear this raucous, joyous, laughter echoing down the hill. It feels like one of those voyeuristic moments when someone is singing out loud with headphones on in an elevator and they have no idea that everyone is listening. True to the visceral love of skiing, snow sliding, whatever the medium may be, here comes one of Eldora’s premier patrollers, just cackling madly in a way that really, might be considered illegal – and sounds – dare I admit - sexual. Everyone in the line (all 6 of us) do a double take, and wonder what the hell is so funny. We then see said patrollers facial expression, as she rounds the last corner to the lift line, and realize that she might as well be on the moon for all the weight she puts on how folks might react to this fantastic outburst of emotion. Just the proof that the simple act of snow-sliding can bring on that depth of joy – is a reassuring thing – a reassurance that there is nothing else we should be doing with our time. This emotive outburst sets the tone for the next three days at the mountain.

One of the major addictions of the basic need to ski, board, whatever, is that each morning there is a completely fresh canvas open to interpretation based on mood, caffeine, conditions, everything. On this fine morning the groomers had hit the face of Corona at about 3am, and 5 inches of 12 degree, fresh, Colorado white was settled over the groom. This creates what amounts to be a perfect surface, with incredible smoothness beneath the powder. This combination might happen only a few times a year with the quality that it had this fine day. On this rare occasion, rather than scattering into the woods, where the DEEP snow is, conditions merit a ripper down the face. Participating in the powder in this way, on the open face, with one track down the whole 1600 feet, is indeed, a rare joy.

As we are riding the lift over the face, an experience that might be akin to a tour of a bacon factory with your mouth sewn shut after years of eating roots and nuts, we salivate, and then – we hear the snow monkeys. In spontaneous releases of LOVE, people are making monkey noises on the chair and basically screaming in anticipation of getting off at the top of the hill. This – is a good thing.

The face does not disappoint, and provides a third of a vertical mile of grinning, flowing, weighting and un-weighting, watching the plumes of snow flying up into my face, and seeing the majority of our crew – just having an amazing time – pretty priceless stuff.

There is some scattering after the first few runs, people hitting as Ray calls: Their obligatory lines. You only get one shot at each of these lines in a pristine state, and you have to weight your options, and decide the maximum return for your effort. Ray heads for the right side of the Salto Glades chute, bisecting the line between the tree in the middle of the chute and the overhanging wall on the right. I go for the upper right rope avoidance, followed by low angle tree shots, followed by my two favorite finger chutes; into the lower finger chutes, and across the other rope onto Cascade – which has not yet been open this year. I do not believe I will surpass the quality of that run this year. Deep, mellow, and solo. Bliss.

Saturday is day one of a three day binge of snow riding. It is a long weekend, and the snow just keeps getting better. By the end of our session Monday, we are collectively shattered, satiated, and just damn happy to be alive and to be in Tennessee. Eldora totals out at something like 21 inches of new snow. This is a good thing.

All is well in paradise.