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Backcountry Skiing Road Trip Part 2 | Colorado, NM United States | 02/24/10, by powderjunky

Epic days skiing the uncrowded dry desert powder of Taos grew on us like E.coli, and we were room temperature Mexican beef.  The dream came to fruition on a unlikely Monday when only trace amounts of icing on the old cake was predicted.  Having the foresight of a blind man most of the time, my day had come when we decided to sleep in the ski lot and woke to over 16 inches of the lightest cool whip this side of the Rio Grande. And no one was there. Fresh lines after fresh lines were murdered in the name of fun, softness and the ski bum way. Rocks were dropped, powder was choked on and snow was way over head.

Snorkels and water skis are usually meant for the crystal blue of the open water, but not this day amigo, this day was for the landlocked and powder addicted. After two or more days of drowning in a bottomless white, decisions to fight off the siren's call were made, as there is still a whole lotta mountains to ski on this journey. Nonetheless spending the rest of the winter skiing Taos's amazing steeps, best in the west no doubt, would be amazing in itself,  when the skies cleared, our van headed north like a compass that had lost its magnetism.

I looked in our side mirror on our way into southwest Colorado and noticed our trailer wheel rocking back and forth like a 1970's love orgy of rusty metal and rubber. Being a man of action I made a mental note to address the problem at some point. Before my mind could register the new task, Wolf Creek Pass came up on the horizon and we had our skis on quicker than a call to Geico.  The recent pukeage that vilely erupted over us in Taos had spattered its way up into Colorado, and provided perfect pow all over Mother Nature's dress.  Silverton , Coal Bank Pass, and La Plata Canyon all offered up some great skiing in amazing terrain.

Propane burns quick with low oxygen, a van full of farts, and dog hair. But van life is easy to get used to. I like living near grocery stores for late night snacking, especially when they put all the old meat for sale, real cheap, hence all the farts.  The dog continues to put himself in interesting positions in protest of his new life on the road, yet his complaints vanish quickly into the horizon.

Before this trip, I was only afraid of a couple things: Cooties, Carrot Top, and writing cursive. Now I can add Red Mountain Pass to the list. Even if the road is dry I would still probably go through a couple of diapers. Thankfully we pointed the van straight and ended up in the Ouray Hot Springs, which I thought was a family joint, but as the picture of the bronze man points out, this ain't no G rated picnic.

Nothing to do with the sculpted self pleasuring, the time had come to head north again, to another x rated place so pleasantly translated as the 'Tits', which begs the question, how much peyote were those Frenchmen on when they named those mountains?