Trip Report: Hungry Like the Wolf (Creek)

Well, it finally happened:  the Powder7 team made it down to Wolf Creek for two days of southern Colorado skiing last week.  And it certainly was memorable.  Mostly because the area picked up 20″ of fresh snow in the 24 hours before our arrival–but also because I’ve started taking these experimental memory pills.  I haven’t noticed any increase in my recall ability yet, but there has been a 400% increase in my “prolonged and terrifying hallucination” ability.

Before we get started with our trip report (which, to be fair, is mostly going to be a bunch of photos with some words thrown in for appearance’s sake), there are a few logistical things you should know:

(1) the trip from Golden to Wolf Creek is a whisker over 4 hours down 285, where there’s hardly any traffic and the scenery is admirable; (2) the final approach to the area is everything you want in a Colorado alpine drive–a serpentine road, high canyon walls, and tunnels; (3) there are, essentially, no resort-type amenities at the ski area except a base lodge, a shop, and a cafeteria (which we count as points in Wolf Creek’s favor); and (4) I’ve never turned right on red, but I turn left on red all the damn time. That last one is just a good thing to keep in mind if you ever see me on the road.

Oh, and lift tickets are, somehow, only $58. If you can beat that deal, I will shake your hand. And then call you a liar right to your lying face.

Upon arrival at Wolf Creek, a visitor is first struck by the shape of the place. It’s a long, wide wall of skiable terrain, with the 11,900-foot hike-only fin of Alberta Peak sticking up roughly in the middle of it all. To help you picture that, here’s a picture of that:

The Wolf, as I’ve just started calling it right now, does not have the largest vertical in Colorado (in fact, at about 1600 feet, it’s surprisingly stubby), but it does have a massive horizontal. An absolutely massive horizontal. The advantages of this are two-fold: (1) it spreads out the top-to-bottom lines people are skiing, resulting in more untracked runs on powder days–as well as the day after powder days; and (2) much of the good stuff is only accessible by hiking, which further thins out the masses.

All that hiking along the ridge pays off, though. For example, here’s Jordan finding some worthwhile turns (and conducting important, business-related product research) on this exact pair of 2014 Volkl Twos:

At the outermost reaches of the ski area is an isolated basin of steep, treeless terrain called Horseshoe Bowl. It’s anywhere from a 25 to 45 minute hike, depending on how nasty you are at walking. Once you’ve reached it, however, things like this happen:

And this:

But here’s a thought experiment: let’s say you’re a skier who pays good money to ride chairlifts and, thus, have no interest in hiking–can such a person find things worth skiing at Wolf Creek? Well, that depends almost entirely on whether you find awesome trees worth skiing:

Our position is a strong “Yes”:

And the non-tree skiing is good, I suppose, if that’s the kind of thing you’re in to. I couldn’t name a single trail we skied, though. Not because they aren’t worth noting–but because reading trail signs is a bit of an afterthought on a powder day at Wolf Creek. For example, if you told me this trail was officially called “Super Smiles Fun Time for Me and You,” I would have no reason to doubt you:

At this point, it’s probably starting to seem like our trip report is really just an excuse to post a bunch of photos of us skiing. Well, you’re right to be suspicious. I’ve been playing what’s called “the long con” this whole time. The reward? All the riches in Wolf Creek. Which reminds me, this was some time well spent:

It’s worth mentioning that Wolf Creek is, visually, rather stunning. The views from the ridge are expansive–which can make the longer hikes a bit more palatable. Now, we’re not here to rank scenery, pitting mountain against mountain in a bitter feud that can only end in bloodshed. But, if one were to do such a thing, The Wolf (I can feel that nickname catching on already) would be a worthy, if mute and immobile, competitor:

In fact, we were so inspired by the scenery that our second day began with a 2-hour ski tour in the terrain surrounding the nearby Beaver Creek Reservoir. What we discovered, in order of scientific significance: an extremely unstable snowpack, deep mysterious animal tracks, the fact that G3 Expedition skins glide better than G3 Alpinist skins, the fact that professional triathletes are better than me at strenuous exercise, people “hunting mountain lions”  via snowmobile, and ice fishermen. It was a tremendous success:

Having skied, hiked, and hucked everything we cared to, our voyage to Wolf Creek drew to a close. For a ski trip, like the ski season itself, is not meant to be infinite. Without a defined “beginning” and “end”, our days on the snow wouldn’t be as special. Instead, they would be like a rambling, self-indulgent trip report that just goes on and on, refusing to end in the face of mounting indifference. And that would just be the worst. The end.

 Oh, and this happened: