SNOWBOUND

The Bunny Hill Boogie

By Bob Berwyn, 2-13-08

	The Taos Ski Valley base area wakes up to intense snowfall in late January, during what is turning out to be an epic season for the ski area in northern New Mexico. Photo by Bob Berwyn.

It’s the third day of a recent road trip to Taos and Leigh shuffles to the window as we wake up from a deep sleep in our snug Kandahar condo.

“It looks like about two or three inches, babe,” she says after squinting through the blinds, eyeballing the snow on the railing of the deck.

I grunt and burrow deeper under the fluffy blanket, relieved that I haven’t missed anything. But there’s a little part of me that knows better. It’s still. Still and gray. It’s one of those winter mornings when the world is completely quiet, ready to receive. We snuggle and drift back into dreams for a while, but suddenly I know I need to double check the informal snow report with a more thorough reconnaissance. This was the same storm that pounded Southern California a few days previously, and I feel the intensity of the low pressure system deep in my bones.

A quick look out the upstairs window down the steep access road confirms my suspicion and the online snow report spurs me to action: 17 inches and still snowing hard. Staying in a condo that’s just a five-minute walk from the base, I feel gleeful about my chances of making first chair. Only problem is, the wind is gusting up to 70 miles per hour at the top of the hill, and when a batch of patrollers returns to the base amidst the sound of avalanche explosives echoing through the valley, the word is that it’s almost impossible to unload. By 9:15 a.m. there are at least 100 people waiting in the maze, in vain, as it turns out. For the first time in years, Taos Ski Valley decides to keep the mountain closed.

There are worse things than being snowbound in a gorgeous canyon in northern New Mexico, especially in the age of wireless internet access. We make coffee and break out our laptops and cell phones, putting the downtime to good use. I’m able to finish an interesting story for the Summit Daily News on a new “green” building code adopted by the town of Frisco. Local builders say they’re on board with the program, but the devil, as always, is in the details.

And there’s always the bunny hill! Early in the afternoon we bundle up and slide down into the maze, riding the creaky two-seater to make a few laps. We work on some basic balance and body position drills, noticing that the handful of kids on the gentle slope don’t mind at all that the famed upper runs are closed. Smiles abound all around. Fun is where you find it, and you can always make your own.

By the time we head for the Martini Tree Bar we feel like we’ve at least been out in it, which helps make the beer, the chips and salsa and the savory sashimi taste all the better. Leigh seriously kicks my butt at Ms. Pac-Man, something like 19,000 to 341, so when we head back to the condo, I’m feeling humbled. Hey, anyone can ski, but scoring that high on Ms. Pac-Man is an art!

As the soft white light of the snowstorm fades to night, we decide to head up the valley to the Bavarian for dinner. In keeping with the Euro-tradition that is a big part of the Taos charm, the lodge and restaurant at the base of the Kachina lift is modeled after an Alpine mountainside restaurant, serving up hearty and traditional meals like goulash, venison stew and schnitzel. We take advantage of the free shuttle service, catching a ride with Bernardo, a Brazilian transplant, who seems to be just as impressed as we are by the berms of snow towering over the roadside.

By the cozy warmth of the restaurant’s tiled woodstove, we load up on carbs and protein, plotting the next day’s adventures. The forecast calls for clearing skies, promising an epic powder day ahead.

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