Winter Lagniappe

In what has to be one of the best April fools’ jokes in recent memory, Mother Nature pulled off a beauty this past week.

On March 31^st, multiple Colorado ski areas including Monarch Mountain closed for the season due to lack of snow. Then on April 1^st, a storm rolled through the state dumping a foot of snow in the central and northern mountains. Psych! Winter isn’t over yet.

I felt kind of bad for the ski areas. Depending on the temperature the days following the storm, that kind of dump could sustain their business for at least another week, maybe two. But once ski areas are closed, they’re closed. Most staff move on to their summer gigs and no visitors are making reservations. Which, of course, presents a unique opportunity for those of us who live here and aren’t deterred by a little climbing.

In Louisiana they have a word, “lagniappe”, that means a little gift or more generally, a small extra or unexpected benefit. For example, when a bakery throws a thirteenth cookie into the dozen you ordered. For those of us living in the mountains, that’s what the April 1 storm was. The lagniappe of the 2025/26 ski season.

I headed up Monarch Pass the morning of April 2^nd to partake of the goods. As mentioned in a previous post, Monarch is fairly unique, in that they allow public access to their mountain even when they’re closed. The lodge and all facilities are unavailable but the mountain itself is open to any and all.

When I arrived just after 8:30, there were approximately 20 carloads of people in the parking lot with the same idea as me. It was the largest post-close crowd I’d ever seen. The atmosphere was positively giddy as people hurriedly unloaded gear, crammed their feet into ski boots and pulled on hats and gloves.

Without the normal restrictions on climbing routes, skinning up when the mountain is closed presents an opportunity to seek the most efficient routes to the top, which provide views of the mountain you don’t normally see.

As most people were heading up under the Garfield lift on the south side of the resort, I set my sights on the untracked snow on a run called Ramble On to the north. This of course, meant I’d be breaking trail through the deep, wet snow all the way to the top but I wasn’t in a hurry and decided to just take my time and enjoy the views.

Untracked powder as far as I could see.

My skin track. To whoever may have decided to follow it, you’re welcome.

Nearing the top.

For my first run of the day, I chose a run called Little Mo. The snow was heavy and wet, surprisingly slow and challenging to ski. Floating through champagne powder, it was not. But it didn’t matter. I was on my skis again after many weeks, making first tracks down one of my favorite runs. It felt great.

For my second run, I headed over to the Garfield lift to follow what was by then, a well-worn skin track.