Chicalorado

My alarm shattered my slumber with it’s piercing pulse around 4am on Saturday morning. I shut it off, shifted out of bed without disturbing Missy too much and started walking around the house. Pacing from the family room to the kitchen and back again, I kept contemplating the same question; should I go back to sleep?

I looked out the kitchen window and starred at the impenetrable darkness surrounding me. Four A.M.? Am I crazy? Aside from my body craving a few more hours of rest and the fog of a few beers from the night before still clouding my mind, I was now battling a war on another front, apathy.  It’s going to be about 20 degrees below zero. I have extra layers. I’m tired. I already brewed coffee. It’s not going to be worth it. Are you kidding me? You’re a wimp, we’re going snowboarding whether you like it or not. Fine.

This crazy scheme came to me at about nine thirty the night before. While watching movies at home and drinking the aforementioned beers, I decided since Keystone was going to be open all night for their annual 36 Hours of Keystone, I might as well get there early and watch the sunrise from the top of the mountain. I proposed the idea to Missy, but with the temperatures projected to be very cold and the wake up time coming very early, she decided to pass this time. It would be a solo mission. By the time I committed to my idea, I knew I only had about 6 hours until it was time to get up, so I chugged the rest of my beer and forced myself to sleep.

Six hours and forty five minutes later, I’m pulling out of my driveway, sipping on coffee, and firing up moe.’s “Wormwood” on the CD player. By the time I hit the highway ten minutes later, there is no more regret or uncertainty. There is no more apathy. There is only sheer excitement. I’m going snowboarding earlier than I ever have before in my entire life.

I arrive in  Keystone at about 6:20am. It’s still dark but you can see the light trying to creep up the mountains on the horizon. The ground remains it’s unique blend of purple, navy and black while the mountains, still dark, begin to show faint yellow in the valleys between the peaks. I know I have to hurry. The weather forecast called for negative degrees, with the wind chill reaching -20F, quite possibly the coldest I’ve ever been riding in. Fortunately for me, I did my research, and I came prepared. Head: Hat, goggles, scarf, hood on jacket Torso: long sleeve t-shirt, two full fleeces, jacket. Legs: Two pairs of pajama pants, snow pants, wool socks. Yep, I was bundled up a bit like Ralphie’s brother in “A Christmas Story.” I unlatch my board from the top of the car and walk to the gondola. The clock reads 6:40am.

I march through the cold to the lift line, which is surprisingly near empty. And then I realize why: it’s 6:45 in the morning and it’s really cold. I climb into my gondola car with three other snowboarders from Steamboat and we start our 11 minute ascent to the top of Dercum Mountain. When we finally unload at the top at about 6:55, I realize the show has already begun. The snow covered mountains to the west had turned a soothing pink speckled purple with a beautifully subtle orange sky floating like a halo above.
  

Since I had a couple of extra minutes before the sun rose because of my altitude, I decided I’d take a quick run facing west and stare at the beautiful scene being painted before me. Gliding down the hill amoungst the sun tipped pine trees and majestic peaks conjured a smile as big as the mountain itself.
I caught the Montezuma Express back to the top just in time to watch the sun spill over the peaks to the west and onto the slopes.   
    Looking back to the west, you could see the slopes of Breckenridge and the massive peak behind it starting to be illuminated.

I spent the majority of my day on Wild Irishman. My first time adventuring through, the slow crunch of packed snow was quickly replaced by the deafening silent hum of loose powder. I came to the top of a hill and stopped to look beneath me. A beautiful stash of trees wide open enough for interpretation that hadn’t been touched yet. Unbelievable. Before long I was taking sidewinder turns through the snow draped woods with a racing heart and soaring spirit.

Sitting on a log in an isolated forest of Keystone without another person to be heard or tracks to be seen, it was easy to take a deep breath and feel free. My first sunrise ride was a success.