Ah, Vail.  Remember Vail?  When it hosted the luster-less US Freeskiing Open, Vail saw freeskiing careers made on its slopes.  Remember when the Big Air came down to a showdown between Andy Woods’ 1260 and some 17 year-old Swede’s D-spin (can you actually do that trick anymore?) Remember when Phil Poirer ran halfpipe contests? Marc Andre switch frontflips, JP Auclair winning the first Open with a 720 and holding the first pair of 1080’s in his hand on the podium, TJ Schiller winning slope, Mikael Descheneux’s gorgeous switch 7, switch 9, switch 10 combo over the channel gap, the list could go on for an installment of Know Your Roots (I’d send along all my VHS recordings).  Anyone whose parents would pay the money for a trip out to Vail from Vermont, because their kid thought they could get sponsored but crashed every run, made their way up I-70 every January to freeskiing’s biggest home-grown show.

Vail’s position in the freeski scene has changed significantly, going from the jib haven of yore with the first serious S-rail to a resort that gets talked about more frequently on the TGR forums by people arguing that it’s a better locale for the backcountry shredder than Aspen.  During my time in Colorado I’d never gotten off in Vail except once to get lost on South Frontage Rd. for half an hour and then get drunk at my friend’s house.  The sliver of trails you see from the highway seemed like a conduit to a far-off land of Back Bowls, those mythical formations that have been both hyped and hated.  So when I was back out in Colorado last December, I had to make a stop by.

Vail’s massive size was unfortunately extremely constrained due to the complete lack of snow the area was suffering from in the pre-Christmas weeks (and is still recovering from).  While the front seemed to offer a dizzying array of groomers to entertain the vacationing Texans among us, the Back Bowls, seemingly infinite in their size, were closed off. The thin snowpack rendered them little more than shark country.  So despite my best intentions, the Vail freeride scene would have to wait for another day and about a half-dozen more storm cycles. Tt was with a bit of chagrin that I pointed my skis back down towards the highway, but with a free lift ticket (thanks Pat!) I was determined to make it happen.

I poked around the woods off of Chair 11 and was actually able to find some untracked snow in some east-coast tight trees. There were even a few open spots and a fallen tree to 50-50, which was fun until I knocked all the snow off of it and took a trunk to the stomach.  Popping out into a little open section, I found a meadow with glowing, crystal snow all over; hark, champagne powder (not capitalized because of legal issues with trademark infringement)!  However, I was disappointed to find out that the champagne, which I had heard came with the territory, was instead big, raw, nasty surface hoar.  Ouch.  Texans be warned: if you see that big, open bowl in Summit this winter with untouched powder just on the other side of the rope, go not. You’ll be going for a worse ride than when you went to the water park after drinking on a Sunday after church.

With Vail’s potential significantly neutered due to the dangerous snow conditions, I spent most of the rest of the day with one of my high school homies. We lapped Flap Jack, maybe the widest groomer I’ve ever seen, and it ended up being a total hit.  Building up speed down Northwoods, we hit Flap Jack’s rolling terrain with speed and played slalom with bogans as they poked their way down the hill.  By the third lap I’d reconnected with my edges and was fully exercising my inner Bode Miller, even though I didn’t start drinking until about 3:30.  While Vail was suffering pretty hard snow-wise, I greatly appreciated the opportunity to build up my ego in the audience of have-not tourists.  Always time well spent.

Thanks to Patrick Barrett for hooking me up with tickets and to Fresh Tracks Transportation (http://freshtrackstransportation.com/) for the shuttle ride from Breck!