It's hard to sum this one up but I'll start by saying Silverton Mountain is the real deal. Not many things in life can live up to the hype but this one does. Skiing Silverton is a hard experience to describe, it sits somewhere between the resort and the backcountry touring but it's really something altogether different. One double chair takes you to the top of a ridge where hundreds of lines are just a 5 to 45 minute hike away. There were no gimmies today, every single turn was a challenge, but would you really want it any other way? A humbling experience to say the least but one I can't wait to do again.
Here's how it works. At 8am you sign your life away with frozen pens in a small yurt. Then you and about 60 other people divide yourself up into two groups, fast and medium. We went with medium and I'm glad we did. It's an interesting moment of peacocking and posturing as people ask you where you're from, check out your ski boots or how dirty your jacket is. From there you are broken up into groups of eight. Bernard and I called our motley crew United Nations because we had representatives from Germany, Finland, Spain, and of course Los Estados. One last briefing from your guide about all the ways you can die and you're off.
The top is just like the biggest, baddest resort you've ever been to. Just no restaurants, ropes, or lift lines. In ten minutes we are dropped into the gnarliest backcountry skiing I've ever been amongst. Just wild.
Over the next eight hours we hike and ski some of the most challenging runs of my life. Including a cornice drop entrance, tree skiing into a no-fall chute with a fixed rope so you can lower yourself down skis still attached, and big open powder turns until your quads turned to fire. At the end of the run you would work your way back to a road where one of Silverton's makeshift buses take you back to the lift for more.
Our group and guide were great. We were all pretty burnt by noon but Bernard and I continued to put our heads down and hike and ski through the pain as others started calling it quits. By the last run it was just our guides, Bernard, and myself getting after it. Not bad for a couple of boys from the flatlands.
All in all, words and pictures just don't do it justice. You've got to see this one for yourself. Interested in joining next year?
Here's how it works. At 8am you sign your life away with frozen pens in a small yurt. Then you and about 60 other people divide yourself up into two groups, fast and medium. We went with medium and I'm glad we did. It's an interesting moment of peacocking and posturing as people ask you where you're from, check out your ski boots or how dirty your jacket is. From there you are broken up into groups of eight. Bernard and I called our motley crew United Nations because we had representatives from Germany, Finland, Spain, and of course Los Estados. One last briefing from your guide about all the ways you can die and you're off.
The top is just like the biggest, baddest resort you've ever been to. Just no restaurants, ropes, or lift lines. In ten minutes we are dropped into the gnarliest backcountry skiing I've ever been amongst. Just wild.
Over the next eight hours we hike and ski some of the most challenging runs of my life. Including a cornice drop entrance, tree skiing into a no-fall chute with a fixed rope so you can lower yourself down skis still attached, and big open powder turns until your quads turned to fire. At the end of the run you would work your way back to a road where one of Silverton's makeshift buses take you back to the lift for more.
Our group and guide were great. We were all pretty burnt by noon but Bernard and I continued to put our heads down and hike and ski through the pain as others started calling it quits. By the last run it was just our guides, Bernard, and myself getting after it. Not bad for a couple of boys from the flatlands.
All in all, words and pictures just don't do it justice. You've got to see this one for yourself. Interested in joining next year?
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