Summit Expression Session 2005 - Go West, Young Man!
by Jack Michaud
There have been several times in my life where I simply have to stop, look around, breath in the air, perhaps grab hold of some piece of my surroundings, and say to myself "remember this". I do this whenever I realize I am actually in of one of those "experiences of a life time" that I want to savor and commit to memory. Usually this happens on vacations when I know that in a few short days I’ll be back in my office with only pictures to give me a weak reminder of the sensations of actually being somewhere exotic and doing exhilarating things. Someday we’ll invent something that will package all five senses onto a DVD that we can replay whenever we want, but for now we’ll have to settle for cheap images and stories on a screen.
The 2005 Summit Expression Session was just such an experience. Hero conditions, a few days of bluebird weather, good friends and good times combined to make an unforgettable vacation. Every year before, there was always something standing in the way of a trip out west to carve with my fellow internet alpine junkies – fincances, house, work, baby, finances, vacation time, finances, yadda yadda yadda. Well finally this year it all fell into place, and I managed to break away to join the second half of the session in Aspen Colorado.
This was the second year of holding the event in Aspen, after moving it from its namesake Summit County resorts. The move has paid off, as Aspen’s four mountains offer exquisite carving and just about any other terrain you could possibly want. Aspen also has its own airport, a mere 8 minute bus ride away from the Aspen gondola. But I’m convinced it is mostly just for show. Ringed by mountains, Sardy Field can only be approached visually – no instrument landings allowed. Therefore, even a rumor of falling snow or reduced visibility halts operation. As Aspen was experiencing excellent weather for powder, it was not good for United Airlines.
Several sesh-goers, including myself, found themselves stranded at Denver International. Judging from the discombobulated way United handled the situation, I would have thought this was the first time something like this had ever happened to them. You would think they would have this down to a routine, being the only major carrier flying the Denver-Aspen link.
When my flight was delayed, delayed some more, then finally cancelled, I asked if I would be put on a bus or van to Aspen. "No, it’s up to you to get yourself to Aspen. We’ll refund you the cost of this leg of your trip. We’re told that all rental cars are sold out now, so here’s a list of hotels if you want to stay here, and a list van services if you want to try to get to Aspen. This one’s pretty good, ask for Bruce. Tell him Carl sent you" was the reply. "Okay, where is my luggage?" "We’re trucking it to Aspen." "What? You mean you’ll take care of my luggage but not me?" "That’s just the way it works". Yeah that makes sense. On a planet where two plus three equals seventeen.
Alright bitch session over. I teamed up with 9 other stranded strangers and we hired a van. I finally rolled into Aspen and up to the door of the Bomber house at 1am, and was greeted by a drunkenly scrawled note taped to the door, complete with not one but two "I love you man"s. I hit the pull-out couch and awoke the next morning to this view out the enormous picture windows of the palatial vacation home:
On the left is Aspen Highlands, on the right Buttermilk, and back in the distance is one of the Maroon Bells made famous by photographer Ansel Adams. It was going to be a very good day.
Thursday was Aspen Highlands day. The weather had graciously cleared, revealing crystal blue skies, spectacular mountain views, and deep, soft corduroy on the groomers. Being an "East Coaster", I found it rather strange and ironic to have traveled all this way only to be strapping on my hardboots as usual. In the east, people become carvers partly out of necessity to adapt to our typically powderless environment. The precious few days a year we do see a big dump, we don’t carve. So to come here during what was later described to me as one of Aspen’s best powder weeks of the season and seek out the groomers was frankly bizarre, and an almost painful concept. But at the same time, I was absolutely stoked to ride flawless Rocky Mountain corduroy with dozens of other crazed carvers.Soon the crowd gathered at the demo tents and people reconnected with friends from sessions past, and put new faces with familiar online names. If you enjoy the camaraderie of the online alpine forums, you really owe it to yourself to make it to a session. It is so much nicer to be able to match type with personalities, and it really makes the carving community feel that much tighter.
As soon as the chair opened, riding groups formed and we were off. Even the groomed snow was exceptionally soft. In the west, when they say "packed powder", they actually mean it. It was beyond hero snow - at times it was possible to overpower a carve and just blow right through the stuff. Mind you, this is not a complaint, it was silly fun, and unreal.
After some runs on the lower groomers, a trip to the summit was in order. The summit of Aspen Highlands is nearly a knife-edge ridge with rocky outcroppings. To the right of the chair is an out of bounds slide zone, and to the left is the uber-steep double-black Steeplechase area. As you exit the chair you are rewarded with this enticing view of Highland Bowl, which was out of bounds the last time I was here 10 years ago. Apparently Aspen finally figured out that they could expand the boundaries to include the bowl if they thwarted avalanches by hiring locals to boot-pack it. Yes, teams of people hike up and down the bowl to pack it down in return for lift tickets. Paul Kobbe couldn’t resist the siren song of that sweet face of powder, and left our group to join that line of people you can just see hiking up the ridge. I ached to go with him, but having come from sea-level the night before I knew the trek up to the 12,392 foot peak would at best be the end of my day.No worries. I put all that epic powder out of my head and concentrated on the effortless carving below. After the next few carves, it wasn’t hard to do. Powder schmowder. Carving without the consequences of ice is such a novelty, I highly recommend it.
At the end of the day we all headed down to Iguana’s for free beer care of Dave and Andrea Morgan of yyzcanuck.com. I must have missed the part of the SES web page where it said their would be celebrities in attendance, because I was shocked to see Mike Jacoby and Chris Karol standing on the terrace outside Iguana’s – two legends and pioneers of the sport. As a teen snowboarder, I probably watched the Burton movie "Chill", excuse me, "Ch!ll", featuring Jacoby, about two-hundred times. So naturally I had to meet them and I was pleased to discover they’re a couple of great down to earth guys. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, Chris Klug walked up. Chris, another legend of the sport, is also a great guy, but we already knew that from his interview here. Chris, being the first American to bring home Olympic hardware for snowboard racing is the current "rock star" of our sport, but you wouldn’t know it to talk to him. Inside the Iguana, Chris offered us all a welcome to his home resort.
Friday was Aspen day. Snowboarding on Ajax mountain was a pilgrimage-like experience for me, since it was off-limits to snowboarders when I was here last. Also my parents lived here for a couple years before I was born, and they have always raved about Aspen. So I jumped at the chance to partake in the special "first tracks" program that Fin arranged for the Bomber house. Signing up for first tracks entitles you to one gondola ride a half hour before it opens to the public, and a guided run down the entire mountain.
Our guide took us down the famous Spar Gulch trail, a gully that forms a natural halfpipe. The groomers had done their magic, laying down perfect cord on the bottom and up the sides of the gulch. The night air had firmed the snow up perfectly – our boards could do no wrong. Arcing up the sides of Spar Gulch was a surreal experience. There are a couple of places at my home mountain where you can pull off an "upside-down" carve – where your head feels like it’s below your feet. But the gulch was an endless supply by comparison, of upside down carve after upside down carve. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud as I leaned in way past normal over and over. Ray (in the lightning bolt jacket) masterfully provided my first glimpse in person of the EC style of laid-out carves on his Virus. I realized that riding conditions like these, there are things you can do on an alpine board that you can’t even consider attempting back east. Sort of like how hucking a double back-flip is inadvisable on eastern ice, so too is extended full-body contact carving.Towards the bottom of the mountain, the morning sun shone down on the wide open virgin cord of Little Nell, which still firm in the crisp morning air, provided a perfect stage for some showing off:
