The Daly Grind. Once a year is enough.

The Daly Grind

The Daly Grind

Hard work is good, but once a year is enough for skiing Mount Daly.

Monotonous work, a caffeine buzz? No, Mount Daly is just a great skiing mountain...if you can handle the commute. This spring, the snow still flies, but the sun is coming on strong. Spring skiing experiences come a little earlier this season. I suggest those with similar urges head out earlier this spring. And to be on the safe side an earlier morning start is advised.

Grand Junction’s local backcountry skiing fanatic Ann Driggers is my self-appointed skiing boss. Scott McCurdy my skiing workmate from Glenwood is also a budding chef to the stars. Ann rallied a trip to ski Mount Daly above Marble. Plan “A” was to start up the long defunct Marble Ski Area lift line. Rumors of a grumpy landowner convinced us to go another way. We four-wheeled steeply up Daniels Hill to the trailhead. A small mudslide blocked the narrow road leading to Lead King Basin and the trailhead. This made for a bit more walking. White Flurries in the night left a shimmering skiff of snow on every branch and emerging spring blade of grass. The sparkling white layer was pleasing to the eye, but hid precarious footing on slick roots and eroding soil.

We soon entered the Maroon Bells Snowmass Wilderness and angled above the creek toward the mountain. We reached snow line just below a broad bench. The trees thinned for a full view of our lofty goal above. The crown like summit is fluted with wide, half-pipe style snow gullies just waiting to be played in, but only after a grueling uphill grind...

We put on our skis equipped with grippy skins to avoid busting three feet through the crusty top layer of snow. The angle increased, as did our sweat equity for turns. We chose the middle ridge to the top, on closer inspection it proved too steep for skinning. The April snow grew firmer the higher we climbed. We ascertained the snow would not slush up for several hours. We felt sure the gullies would not slide on us…this is a rare feeling on exposed slopes during the winter.

Slide or no, we were still exposed; I’ve rarely climbed such a consistently steep angle with skis on. Switch backing up the hill, digging edges in hard and yet the thin top layer of new snow would slip inches down slope making for tenuous moments. I was glad to have my “whippet” ski pole with a stubby ice axe tip above the grip. I was also glad not to have slipped enough to use the axe apparatus to stop a fall.

The forecast called for a clear morning then clouds growing in the afternoon. Mist closed in early on the surrounding peaks, and then soaked the air of Daly’s slopes. My sunglasses fogged up making everything blank. The moisture gave the high sun more to refractive power to pierce my mid-priced eye protection. The whiteout made everything flat, but my feet reminded me of the truly steep angle. The battle of senses gave me several minutes of delirious-vertigo. Like a spinning ballerina, I fixed my brief glimpses on the workmates above in order to keep my bearing.

Cresting the shoulder of the peak, the glaring mist abated. Expanding views improved the scene then revealed the unfriendly ridge to the summit; too narrow and unstable for boots or skis that lacking the bite of crampons.

I am goal oriented when climbing mountains. Considering the effort to get here and looking at the rickety ridge toward the pointy summit, I felt worthy of the turns awaiting the kiss of my skis below. Our fate decided we flopped onto the corniced ridge top like working stiffs after a double-shift settling onto a cushy couch. We were at the top of the bowl and therefore the “summit” of the skiing to be had. Cold set in as we dined on snacks to fuel up before a fun filled commute 3,000 feet back to the valley.

I let Ann and Scott rip ahead while trying to capture their joyous turns in photos. Scott pounded out aggressive telemark turns while Ann swooped classic downhill arcs with ease. Every carve parted the thin white layer of new snow revealing a snake of red dirt left by the intense dust storm from days earlier. I played catching air off the corniced edge of the gully. I nearly paid extra for the fun landing in a slushy patch of grippy snow. I leaned back and scorched out unscathed.

We punched the day’s clock at noon, just after negotiating the gloppy depths between the glades. The morning snow in the woods had melted. Spring’s indomitable green returned to its rightful command of the scenery.

Some years this laborious form of skiing fun can be enjoyed into July in the high peaks of Colorado, even after Arapaho Basin’s lifts close. This year the sliding season may not last as long. Get out and earn your turns before it’s too late! Just don’t call in sick to do it!

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