I don’t remember exactly when I took up skiing but I think it was sometime around middle school.  I certainly didn’t grow up skiing.  No one in my family skied so it wasn’t like we were going to Vail every Christmas.   It was more like I had seen a few Warren Miller movie clips on TV and the whole thing just looked so cool so I pestered my parents about it like only a pre-teen can pester until they relented.  

Let’s just say those first few outings weren’t exactly Warren Miller material. Used equipment scrounged from local garage sales, sack lunches eaten in the basement area of the lodge reserved for sack lunch people and skiing in jeans that would freeze solid from the knees down.  

Not to mention, I was too young to drive so I was completely dependent on the kindness of my mom and dad to schlep me the hour and a half up to the mountains.  I still marvel at their patience to sit in the lodge all day while I was learning to turn, stop, and get on and off the lifts without breaking my legs.  While mom and dad were willing to watch me all day from the lodge they weren’t going to spring for lessons.  Get out there and figure it out yourself!  The place I did most of that figuring out was Monarch.  

In the years since then, my relationship with skiing has been on and off like an alcoholic who doesn’t really want to quit drinking.  I’ve gone through phases of skiing obsessively and years giving it up completely.  Skiing was at least partially responsible for my, ahem, extended college experience.  As an adult I’ve had the opportunity to ski all over the western U.S., Canada, and even South America with my lovely wife.  

Fast forward to 2020 and I’m right back where I started, Monarch.  The base lodge has been expanded and updated since those early days.  They’ve added a ski rental building, a hike-to area and a tubing hill but the mountain remains much the same, the same two- and three-person chair lifts, the same familiar run names and terrain.  The biggest difference is now it’s all just 30 minutes up the road, so wake up, check the weather, load up the car and head out.  As simple as going on a hike or a bike ride.  Ski until you’ve had your fill then head home.  Compared to the experience of planning a ski vacation from out of state it’s a beautifully uncomplicated undertaking.

No high-speed quads or gondolas here. Old-school double chair.

Hey there!

Obstacles indeed!

First turns of the season.

The sun breaks through.

On the Continental Divide, 11,952 feet.