Beneath a bluebird sky, the scene outside my hotel window is wintry perfection. Ten centimetres of snow have fallen overnight, coating the streets of Aspen in a pillowy, white layer that’s yet to be disturbed. “Hope you’re all rugged up,” says Aspen local Lea Tucker in the lobby of the Limelight Hotel.
Extra layers are a must before heading down the mountains. Credit: Mark Daffey Oh, I’m rugged up, all right. I know from previous experience that any gaps in my clothing will become apparent the moment I point my skis downhill, so I’ve thrown on extra layers.
It’s an earlier start than usual, but with good reason. We’re booked in to First Tracks, the free activity allowing privileged access to the slopes on Aspen Mountain each morning, and only available to guests who stay at one of the four hotels or lodges owned by the Aspen Skiing Company. Since I’m staying at one of them, I’ve been looking forward to this all week.
Our group of six piles into a car before hopping out near the Silver Queen Gondola, each of us cradling our skis. To qualify for First Tracks, we must all be Level 7 skiers or above ..
. whatever that means. Since two of our group live in Aspen, including Lea, I assume they’re much better than me.
Not that they’d say that, for in Aspen there’s always someone else who’s better again. It’s 8.15am when we board the gondola for the 14-minute ride to the mountain’s 3417-metre-high summit.
Below us, fitter skiers than me are “skinning” uphill. Considering there are no runs for beginners on the mountain, they’ve chosen a tough hill to climb. At the top, we’re met by Kirk Baker, a lean, weathered guide with tufts of grey hair poking out from his helmet.
He doesn’t tell us his backstory, so I make it up, imagining him as one of the original “ski freaks” who came to Aspen decades ago and never left. Turns out I’m not far wrong; a later internet search reveals he’s taught kayaking here since 1973. It seems a shame to ruin the corduroy lines made by the grooming machines, but that’s why we’re here; to carve neat ribbons in the snow.
MARK DAFFEY Baker leads us through some light exercises to limber up ahead of the skiing. “Remember that this is not a race,” he says, wiggling his hips before taking off downhill. Though it’s not a race, Baker seems hellbent on getting down the mountain as fast as possible.
I barely sight him. Instead, I lock my eyes on those I can see in front of me. Some tear off in hot pursuit, others lag.
The pistes we ski down are all perfectly groomed blue (intermediate) runs – first Copper, then Copper Bowl. It seems a shame to ruin the corduroy lines made by the grooming machines, but that’s why we’re here; to carve neat ribbons in the snow. At times, I deliver short, sharp turns, practising my rhythm.
During other moments, I glide lazily from side to side, using the entire width of the run. On such smooth surfaces, I’m practically on autopilot. Loading Halfway down the mountain, I catch up with Kirk and the rest of the group.
“Be careful on this section,” he says. “That sharp turn down there is called Kleenex Corner, for reasons you can probably imagine.” Cornering complete, our last leg is down a run called down Little Nell.
It’s steep and wide, then levels out a little before dropping away again. As I skid to a stop alongside the gondola station, the day’s skiers are starting to trickle in. I glance upwards towards the empty piste and a single thought runs through my mind: Please, can I do it again? Mark Daffey was a guest of Aspen Skiing Company and United Airlines .
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