Everyone knows about Vail…its big brother, Aspen, manages to stay just as well known but is largely associated with elitism and unattainability. Its beefy Colorado step-brothers (Breckenridge and Keystone), kid sisters (A-Basin and Loveland Pass), and secret love child (Copper) don’t hold a candle to Vail. As far as I’m concerned, Vail remains the most widely known mountain resort of the US (never mind its competition with Whistler as the Big Daddy of North America). It also recently received the title of Most Expensive Resort (take that Aspen!) and is swamped year round with tourists. When people asked where I was going on vacation I said ‘Vail’ (easily identifiable) but I was hoping to go elsewhere. While there is a certain amount of cache one has by saying, “I went snowboarding in Vail,” the reality is that Vail makes me cry. I’ve never had a successful time there, maybe it’s the mounds of skiers, rude international travelers, and the fact that one time I got tangled up in one of their shoddy, orange, plastic fences.
This is where our wonderful CO connections kicked in, specifically: Jodi. She and Josh met in 1999 at an SOS meeting (SOS is an organization that helps at-risk youth learn to snowboard) and have been friends every since. We’ve all been friends, truth be told, but I missed out on many of their earlier ‘weekend warrior’ trips from Fort Collins to the mountains in the early years. They slept in cars, parking lots, old cabins, all for the sake of snowboarding and teaching kids how to ride. Jodi is also an entrepreneur, a real business woman, currently heading Activity Sitters, a high end baby-sitting service she founded a few years ago. Having grown up in Vail, (not as a rich kid but actually a poor kid living in the mountains), she returned after college to have a go at making a living. The town home she co-owns with her bf and roommates is nestled in Avon, which also houses the Beaver Creek Resort.
The Vail Valley is filled with two types of people: The extremely wealthy and everyone who is making money off the extremely wealthy. The disparity is far greater then when we lived next door in Summit County. With rent, food, gas etc. at astronomical levels, cost of living is very high, but the pay off is that you get to live in the wonderful abyss: Far from highways, 9,000 feet above sea level, the terrain rocky and covered with snow peeks. The isolation is huge, as if you are squirreled away from all humanity with nothing but the mountain for entertainment. Going back up to the mountains was a test: are we really in the right place? Sometimes when I’ve returned from a long day of rush hour traffic I crave nothing more then the blinding sunlight at the top of a mountain. Sure, there’s no Nordstrom Rack, limited places to go out to eat, and a small pool of people to hang out with. However, your mind is practically forced to slow down as the demands on your time become very basic and simple. I can see why this is the lifestyle I chased after leaving high paced Seattle in the late 90’s.
I’ve never been to Beaver Creek, but because it was five minutes away from Jodi’s place it became not only convenient but a lot of fun. We enjoyed two bluebird days, filled with sun and decent groomed snow. I was clipped twice, first by a skier and the second time by an out-of-control female snowboarder. I’d forgotten the recklessness one experiences when you throw a bunch of tourists on the same mountain over a holiday weekend. I also marveled at the array of accents you find when your town is a melting pot, specifically from Jodi’s roommates who were from Milwaukee and had a very pronounced way of speaking.
Jodi’s two teenage cats, Tosh and Leo, provided endless entertainment as they galloped and chased each other all over the place.
Josh and I had forgotten the vitality that young cats have and marveled at their ability to PLAY (something Hobbes gave up long ago). Here is Josh and Leo spending some quiet time on the couch:
Suddenly our toothless, chubby, old cat seemed pale in comparison to the sheer entertainment of Tosh and Leo. That is, of course, until I opened the door to our room in the middle of the night for some air. The kitties ran in and proceeded to chase each other in mad circles at the foot of the mattress. ‘They’ll settle down eventually,’ I rationalized, trying very hard to fall asleep. The pair did not settle down, in fact, I realized that they had isolated their chase to a single solitary circle that would not let up. I closed the door and opted for less air in the room.
We were extremely lucky to be on the receiving end of such generosity. Jodi’s bf is a sommelier (read: fancy wine expert) and uncorked multiple bottles of fancy wine for us to sample. Despite the altitude playing havoc on my system, I graciously drank some excellent wine. I also made a big meatball dinner for Jodi and friends as thanks for the hospitality:
While driving back down the long winding highway away from the mountains I was reminded about CO drivers: no signals, tailgating, wandering over to our lane, high speeds, everyone owns a truck our an SUV. We sighed as we left the Vail Valley, certain we would have to visit again. We spent one last lingering night in Golden before heading out on Wednesday, my body immediately rewarding me with a Big Cold the second I stepped on the plane.
CO I miss you!
