Steamboat Springs, CO – The Tugboat Grill & Pub in Steamboat’s
Ski Time Square was quickly filling with après-ski revelers as I joined Steve
Rakowski at the bar, lamenting the lack of new snow. A local for the past 14
years, Steve was equally frustrated that it hadn’t snowed significantly in two
weeks, and no new snow was forecast on the horizon. I had stared longingly
beyond the ski area’s backcountry access gates, but stayed inbounds rather than
venture into unknown terrain alone. Hell, I’d even snowshoe, I just needed
someone with local knowledge – and perhaps Steve was my ticket. I became convinced
through conversation that if anyone could show me the goods at Steamboat, it
would be Steve. I asked him to lead me in the right direction.
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“You want fresh pow? You should be going with my brother then,” Steve encouraged.
“You’ll find plenty of fresh snow.”
Who was Steve’s brother? Was he some powder wizard, able to wave a magic wand
and deliver a fresh field of virgin white where none had fallen in fourteen
days?
Well, almost. “My brother is a mountain guide with Blue Sky West.”
The name Blue Sky West was unknown to me. I began to believe that I could
be convinced to skin up the surrounding ridges on some borrowed or rented randonee
equipment, for anything would justify my first fresh lines of the season.
I listened intently. It was only after Steve’s brother Mike arrived at the
bar that I realized that I’d have to do no climbing at all – Blue Sky West was
a snowcat skiing operation.
I hadn’t known that anyone ran snowcat ski tours in northwestern Colorado,
but none of that mattered now. My new friend Steve, his brother Mike and Blue
Sky West guide Steve Roth regaled me with tales of over 10,000 acres where fresh
lines were still available. Despite Roth’s best attempts to temper my enthusiasm
because much of the advanced terrain had not yet opened for the season, the
flow of both my adrenaline and seemingly endless alcohol had me pumped for the
following morning. The repetitive rounds of kamikaze and Jagermeister shots
continued well into the night …
The 5:30 a.m. alarm seemed to come at an ungodly hour. Muttering something
about never mixing radish juice and carrot juice again, I stumbled dazedly in
the pre-dawn light downstairs to the hotel concierge desk, where I most assuredly
posed the first question of the new day: “Have you any clue where the offices
of Blue Sky West are located?”
“Sure, right across the street,” the concierge replied enthusiastically. He
leaned forward as he forced himself to inquire further, “Are you going with
them today?”
I barely had the strength to nod my head in an affirmative response. Doing
so actually hurt.
“You lucky guy!” concluded the concierge in a muted, jealous tone.
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Surface hoar
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Blue Sky West’s trendy offices are located in Steamboat’s Clock Tower Square,
just west of the ski area’s gondola base. At 7:15 a.m., it barely contained
the controlled chaos found inside. Forms were completed, dogs begged for handouts,
and patrons sat on benches or sprawled out on the floor as ski and snowboard
boots were donned and tales were swapped. I marveled at how were these people
so wide awake at this hour. A table next to the water cooler graciously offered
fresh muffins and croissants, ready to be washed down by a selection of herbal
teas. In my sleep-deprived and hung-over daze I wandered aimlessly through
the fervor, but fortunately Blue Sky West’s employees somehow had control over
the chaotic situation, and after some customers obtained use of the company’s
fleet of Volant Chubbs and all of the gear was loaded into two passenger vans,
I somehow found myself in van #1, bound for the 18-minute ride north through
Strawberry Park to the base of Buffalo Pass.
Buffalo Pass, a.k.a. “The Buff,” is generally regarded as one of Colorado’s
snowiest locations, wringing over 400 inches of light, dry fluff from the passing
clouds annually, with up to 600 inches in some seasons. While a portion of
the permit area is visible to skiers at nearby Steamboat, the snowcat ski area
stretches across several ridgelines further north, all the way to Soda Mountain.
Buffalo Pass is so named because the local Ute Indians used to hunt the beasts
as they moved into the area from North Park. “The Ute Indians became very
upset with the white man because this area was sacred to them, with the mineral
springs and the hot springs,” explained Roth, “so they created these
huge forest fires up there where they burned all of the trees. The great open
areas and glades up there, including some of the best aspen glade skiing that
you’ll ever see, are because of these fires. So,” Roth chuckled, “we
have a lot of respect for the Ute Indians!”
The diesel-powered powder chariots awaited us where the county’s winter road
maintenance ended, two shiny newer Bombardiers fitted with custom-built luxury
cabins featuring aircraft-style reclining seating for 12, a 6-CD changer, full
climate control, water bottles in holders and Clif
Bars on every seat. A third cat is available for busy days, and a fourth
cat is kept strictly for building roads.
Most of the customers that day were accompanying Mike Rakowski in the other
cat, enjoying a private group outing. I was on a “level 3” tour with a Japanese
commercial contractor and his girlfriend, an American now teaching school in
China, his brother-in-law, and an experimental aircraft pilot from New Mexico.
Leading us were guides Kate Schaefer and Beau Mills, both new with Blue Sky
West this season, while veteran powder-hound Roth was behind the controls of
our machine and sniffing out the goodies. As we first headed up the pass, DTS
Tracker avalanche beacons and Ortovox shovels and probes were distributed, and
Kate briefed all on their use and on cat skiing safety and etiquette. Powder
was scarce, she cautioned, and we had to leave as much fresh stuff as possible
for subsequent guests.
The shakeout occurred on the first run. Billed as a “warm up,” we pushed off
down “Favorite,” starting out on a gentle pitch before diving back to the cat
across an advanced intermediate glade. The Japanese couple showed themselves
to be strong skiers, and the pilot’s expertise on his monoski immediately impressed,
but Gary, the teacher from China, was having a challenge fighting the loose,
fluffy snow. More intimidated than lacking talent, Gary refused Kate and Beau’s
suggestion to try a spare pair of Chubbs aboard, and insisted upon sticking
with his Rossignol Bandits. After the first couple of runs, Gary spent most
of the morning riding the cat back down to the pickup points. Blue Sky West
cautions that there are no refunds for those who overstate their ability and
find themselves in a stronger group than they belong in. No matter what, the
tour is geared toward the advertised ability level.
Like “Favorite,” nearly all of the lines skied this day were around 600 vertical
feet, and absolutely none were over 1,000 feet. While this may not sound enticing,
you must realize that a shorter vertical drop with a stronger ski group ensures
that little time is spent waiting at the end of a run for the cat to return.
Steve was generally waiting there when we arrived, or rounding the last corner
of his cat road after barely providing time to remove our skis.
With Blue Sky West, you are scarcely out of your bindings before a guide is
lifting them into the racks above the back of the cat. Not accustomed to such
pampering, especially in the backcountry, I felt it difficult to participate
in this ritual for much of the day, feeling somewhat guilty that someone was
doting over me like this. Get used to it, though, for this customer focus pervades
all aspects of Blue Sky West’s operation.
“What we’re doing for our guests, not our customers but our guests, is
a huge difference from the past,” explained Roth. “You come up here,
you will be pampered. You will have your skis taken off your feet, you will
have instructions, you will have fine dining, we’ll do the best we can with
the cat experience, and we will work with that person as much as we can.”
Most of our runs were through lightly-treed intermediate glades. Roth seemed
almost apologetic that the advanced terrain on Soda Mountain or along Dinosaur
Ridge was not yet ready for prime time this season, and made certain to point
it out via the cat’s windshield as we traveled from one pristine line to another.
No matter, however, for despite two snowless weeks and a healthy crust where
the sun was able to do its evil damage, our guides managed to deliver dry, fresh
untracked on virtually every run by seeking out specific north-facing aspects
along the ridge. In most cases, the snow was a fine powder, but occasionally
we stumbled onto an elevation of thick surface hoar, ice crystals formed when
water vapor from the atmosphere condenses directly into the solid phase onto
a very cold surface. The process is the equivalent of dew. These crystals generally
form during cold and clear conditions, particularly at night. Surprisingly,
to this writer at least, the hoar was eminently skiable, nearly to the quality
of powder, and provided the added bonus of the beautiful sound of breaking glass
as one carved turns through its delightful surface.
It was Gary’s birthday, and after every few runs the group agreed to take a
gentler one to coax him out of the cab of the snowcat and back onto the mountain.
He eventually relented to the pressure from all of us to give the Chubbs a try.
With the shaped skis underfoot, Gary was a different man, his confidence restored.
We overheard his brother-in-law begging to replace his own straight sticks with
Gary’s Volants for a run or two to give them a try, but Gary conveniently managed
to successfully sidestep the issue for the rest of the day.
At around 12:30 p.m. we retired to Blue Sky West’s cabin in the wilderness
for a refreshing lunch of clam chowder and chicken cordon bleu in the most inviting
of structures, crafted from roughhewn log beams and decorated with warm knickknacks.
I pushed back from the community table early, relaxing on the comfortable sofa
while drinking in both the stunning views of the Yampa Valley below and a cup
of hot chocolate. The first after-lunch descent is always a difficult run,
but it was especially challenging after lingering and relaxing in the cozy cabin.
With too small a structure to accommodate overnight guests, Blue Sky West has
until this season limited its operation to day excursions. New access to the
privately-held Stagecoach Ski Area, closed since 1976 and 15 miles south of
Steamboat, will change all of that this year. Serving up to 2,200 feet of pristine
skiing, the Stagecoach property features a larger, even more luxurious cabin
to accommodate overnight guests. At the time of this author’s visit, work had
begun to create cat roads at Stagecoach, and the first ski offerings were barely
more than a week away. A quick peek at a topographic map reveals some truly
steep skiing there as well.
All was not gentle up on Buffalo Pass, however. Near the end of our day, Beau
led the charge down a line adjacent to “Steve’s Stash.” We rounded a false
summit dotted with boulders, and made some quick turns through tight trees before
arriving atop a narrow throat in a cliff band. After several steep hop-turns
in the hourglass, the run continued to plummet down numerous boulders, now pillows
covered in fluff in a staircase succession. Tight, steep trees brought us back
to the waiting snowcat with permanent smiles embossed on our faces. It was
obvious too that our guides were having as much fun as we were.
Blue Sky West offers year-‘round employment for its guides, who transition
to leading white-water rafting trips, tubing trips and fly-fishing excursions
in the off-season. All are certified in the National Ski Patrol’s Outdoor Emergency
Care program and most are former patrollers themselves, like Beau who until
this winter had patrolled inbounds next door at Steamboat for the past 10 years.
This four-season focus provided the impetus behind the name change to Blue Sky
West from Steamboat Powdercats, formerly operated by Jupiter and Barb Jones.
Purchased by current owner Toby Hemmerling and a group of investors two winters
ago, the operation has reportedly discovered a new focus on customer service
and comfort, and the all-year recreation provides stability for both the company
and employees alike.
Hemmerling runs Blue Sky West with a heightened environmental awareness. “We
want to be sure that we have the least impact in an area,” explained Roth.
“We don’t want to go in there and do a mediocre job – we want to do it
right. Toby quotes himself as a ‘tree hugger,’ but we’re all tree-huggers –
if we didn’t do this right, we wouldn’t be here. If there’s even the slightest
drip of oil or hydraulic fluid, the cat won’t run.”
The end of the day arrived much too soon. Steve stopped the cat along the
side of the jeep road, dropping us atop “Painter’s Line” for a long cruise through
aspen stands and pine groves that nearly brought us back to the parking lot
where the vans waited to transport us back to Steamboat. Somehow, the smooth,
paved van ride back to the office was not nearly as comfortable – or as comforting
– as the bone-jarring rumble of the snowcat as it crawled toward the next powder
stash.
At some point during the day, Roth emphasized, “We want to be sure that
everyone comes back and has a good time.” Count me in on both points.