One of the best things about living IN the mountains, as opposed to NEAR the mountains or, god forbid, AWAY FROM the mountains, is that every now and then Mother Nature offers up a little gift in the way of weather that you can partake of only if you’re here to experience it first-hand.
Take the recent freak mid-May snowstorm we experienced in Salida. At least 18 inches fell at the house and we didn’t see the high mountains for three days straight. Monarch ski area has been closed for almost a month. After my recent outing on Clover Mountain I was feeling satisfied with my ski season and was ready to move on to summer activities. But when the clouds finally broke, it was clear that something special had been laid at our doorsteps. Time to park the mountain bike and head up to the high country for a few more laps on snow.
Monarch is unique among Colorado resorts in their liberal policy for uphill skiing. During the season they allow it all day long during normal business hours, with limited access after hours. After the resort closes at the end of the season, they get even more generous. Basically, Monarch’s off-season policy is here’s the mountain, have at it. And given the unpredictability of spring snowfall, you can usually count on at least one good dump sometime after the official close date. It’s a special perk that skiing locals look forward to. I decide to head up there earlier this week to check it out.
No problem finding a place to park. There were only a handful of cars in the lot and most seemed to belong to Monarch staff doing whatever it is they do to prepare for summer. Less than a half dozen appeared to belong to people actually skiing.
The lodge is closed so no lunch and no restrooms.
The lifts were silent, their chairs hanging still in the air. It was a little eerie. Like skiing in a ghost town.
It was a balmy 45 degrees and partly cloudy when I started my skin up in the morning. With only a handful of us on the mountain, there were plenty of opportunities for untracked snow. But powder it wasn’t — wet, sticky spring snow. On shallower slopes, the skis would simply slide to a stop. I headed up to the top of Panorama to find something steeper, more suited to the conditions.
The surrounding peaks looked great in their fresh coat of white.
As I topped out on the Continental Divide, I saw this wall of precipitation heading directly toward me from the west. There was an oddly out of place roll of thunder that, given where I was, reminded me of mid-winter avalanche blasting. The sky got progressively darker as I reached the top.
The storm hit just as I was transitioning to ski mode at the top of the ridge. But it wasn’t snow. It wasn’t rain. I skied down in a light storm of graupel.
Back at the bottom, the graupel was falling hard on the sun deck. But with no one outside eating lunch, it went mostly unnoticed.
Graupel, the packing peanut of precipitation.
Within ten minutes, as quickly as the storm started, it ended. I could see the sky clearing from the west so I headed up for another lap.
Caught a glimpse of a large cornice at the top of Curecanti gradually collapsing in the warm sun.
Last run of the day. And for me, most likely, the season.
