Skiing: from A to V

Aspen, the silver town, 1893. It had ten churches, three banks, three schools, a hospital, a courthouse, a hotel with electricity and a population of nearly 12,000. They wrenched the silver out of the mountain by the ton and the mines had names like Smuggler and the Mollie Gibson. One day in 1894, they found a single nugget that was so big it had to be chopped down to 1840 pounds before it could be dragged up the mine shaft. They said at the assay office it was 93 percent pure; but by then, nobody was interested in big nuggets and the news caused hardly a ripple. By 1895, the silver bonanza was all over.

The Federal Government had opted for the gold standard and Aspen, a town built literally on top of a fabulous fortune, found itself bankrupt and apparently doomed. The miners fled to the gold camps, the girls from Hunter and Spring streets followed, and the mine shafts slowly filled with water. All that was left to mark Aspen's brief romance with prosperity and a braver age was the name of the river that skirted the town to the north, the Roaring Fork. That and the massive silence of the surrounding mountains.

It took the Second World War to revive Aspen. The Tenth Division Mountain Infantry went into training at Camp Hale and the instructors who toiled up the liftless slopes took one look at the terrain and decreed the new boom—skiing. Two years after the War was over, another land rush was launched in Aspen; and if it lacked some of the color of the old silver days, it was no less frenzied. Abandoned mining properties that had a year earlier changed hands for $100 now became unobtainable at almost any price, while deserted houses whose Victorian parlors had been used as playgrounds by the town's children were quickly snapped up by the new wave of eager prospectors.

There was also a culture boom in Aspen. It was begun by the late Walter Paepcke, chairman of the board of Container Corporation of America, who thought the town was a perfect summer setting for cultural festivals. Albert Schweitzer left his jungle mission to deliver a lecture in the former mining town and José Ortega y Gasset, the Spanish philosopher, made his first journey out of Spain to deliver another. Great symphony orchestras performed, the restored opera house rang to Wagnerian renditions by Traubel and Melchior, and a host of intellectuals and artists gathered from all corners of the globe for the annual seminars at the newly created Aspen Institute for Humanistic Studies

In the winter of 1950, Aspen was chosen for the site of the World Ski Championships, by which time the town's future was finally settled. A coma that had lasted half a century was over.

Aspen today is one of the largest and most famous ski resorts in the world (as well as being a warm-weather mecca for intellectuals and artists in residence and out). In Colorado, it's the oldest and biggest. It has four mountains, miles of forested trails and open slopes, and seven chair lifts capable of moving 5500 skiers every hour.

There are really four ski areas in Greater Aspen—Buttermilk, Snowmass, Aspen Highlands and Aspen itself. Shuttle buses connect them and tickets for lifts and instruction are interchangeable. Each mountain in the region offers different challenges—beginners and intermediates at Buttermilk, novices and experts at Aspen Highlands and a mixture of all classes at Aspen and Snowmass.

Most people stay in Aspen because it's the only genuine town in the area and it's where the action is found after dark. The Highlands and Buttermilk, though excellent for skiing, are not selfsufficient resorts, although accommodations are available at the Highlands and both have restaurants. After Aspen, the Highlands is the most popular of the four. Swiss-born Fred Iselin, one of Aspen's earliest pioneers, opened the town's first ski school in 1947, and today runs an excellent 80-instructor ski clinic in the Highlands. Co-author (along with playboy Editorial Director A. C. Spectorsky) of Invitation to Modern Skiing, Iselin has taught his international skitechnique to such pupils as Leonard Bernstein, William Wyler and Kim Novak. Knowledgeable male visitors make a point of skiing all four areas, because it's in the cafés at the bases of the mountains and on the slopes that people meet to make plans for the evening. In fact, many of the skiers who are lifted to the halfway stops spend the entire day on the sun deck, taking in the view and the abundant talent, and donning their skis only to descend at day's end.

Snowmass is a full-time resort with inns, condominium apartments, restaurants, night clubs, a theater-banquet hall, shops and all the usual resort fittings, including a school run by the famous Stein Eriksen. It's about ten miles from the town of Aspen, much of the distance on a loose-dirt road that will have been paved by the time you read this.

The quickest way to all four areas is by Aspen Airlines, which operates direct flights from Denver. They give you a low-level and breath-taking view of the Rockies and if the ride is bumpy, as it often is, it doesn't last too long. The season runs from late fall to the end of April, by which time the aspens that gave the town its name have their spring patina of fine dust that is kicked up by every passing vehicle on the thawing streets.

There's nothing sedate or delicate about the new Aspen in midwinter, the height of the ski season. If it is a town that came back from the dead, it doesn't show it. Three-point-two beer, the legal maximum for under-21s but over-18s in Colorado, flows like the spillover from a giant dam: The 80-odd hotels are filled to capacity, as are the 40 or so restaurants. And the dozen night clubs are choked with customers whose bleary sunscorched faces will be seen early the next morning hanging over endless cups of strong black coffee in the cafés at the bases of the slopes.

The majority of visitors seem to be young and single, though at the town's heady altitude of just under 8000 feet (more than 11,000 at the summit), few who arrive unattached spend very long in that state. Indeed, Aspen is perhaps the most popular winter resort in North America with college-age visitors of both sexes—many of whom take part-time jobs for the season—and with the under-30s.

An influx of hippies, if that word still has any meaning, has, inevitably, angered and disturbed the town's conservative element, which is solidly entrenched in the local tourist industry. One renowned Aspen magistrate, a restaurant owner whose Tyrolean steak-house bears a sign prohibiting longhaired customers, is reputed to impose excessive penalties on shaggy defendants who appear in his courtroom, a frequent occurrence in a town that many people feel is overly policed. A petition was circulated earlier this year for the removal of the magistrate and though it was signed by many of the prominent liberals in town, it was rejected by the town council. Aspenites recall with considerable delight that the Federal Bureau of Investigation caught up with one of its ten-most-wanted men not too long ago—he was employed as a chef's helper in the kitchen of the magistrate's restaurant.

Aspen in the winter is a one-industry town—tourism. People go there to ski and sometimes to skate or take a ride on a dog sled; and when they're not doing any of these, they're eating in one of the town's many excellent restaurants, dancing or being entertained at the clubs and bars or just partying in another visitor's digs. A large contingent of regulars owns its own homes or condominiums, but most of the people who go to Aspen don't get invited to the private affairs, which means they remain tourists and which also means they get no chance to take part, even for a short time, in the established social life of the town itself.

This, of course, is true of any large resort; but in Aspen, the sense of being a transient stranger is heightened by the natural difficulties of the terrain and the hazards of the climate. After a heavy snowfall, the smaller roads are blocked. Should you feel like exploring some of the nearby ghost towns, such as Ashcroft, Independence or Ruby, you can't. What you can do, however, if you're looking for respite from the slopes or from the clattering of beer mugs, is explore what little is left of the old Aspen—the Victorian houses that were built to last forever, the ruins of the mining equipment that lies by the river (there's supposed to be an old locomotive somewhere behind the courthouse, but I couldn't find it)—and play the popular tourist game of searching for the bullet (continued on page 212)Skiing: from A to V(continued from page 108) holes in the upper façade of the Red Onion Saloon.

Fortunately, Aspen's one-faceted nature is at least partially redeemed by the character of its best inns and restaurants. Magnificent accommodations at the first and some of the best food in the country at the second.

The quickest way to get a confirmed hotel reservation in town is to dial (303) 925-3122. This is the number for Incons, a data-processed reservations system that links every Aspen hotel to a central switchboard. The caller merely states his requirements—say, a two-room suite on the ground floor of a chalet, with a fireplace in the living room and use of sauna and swimming pool. All are located within a 15-minute walk of a ski lift and cost from $10 to $50 daily— and, if the space is available, the operator will confirm dates and prices on the spot.

Condominiums—apartments rented by private owners and managed by the professional staff of the building—usually offer the most luxurious accommodations. If you're traveling with half a dozen friends, this can also be the best bargain; because for around $80 a day, you can rent a three-bedroom apartment, carpeted in white and equipped with expensive furniture and a Roman bath. At the Aspen Alps, the Green Mountain Suite has a tiered and carpeted floor in the living room, built in a rising semicircle around a fireplace, so that it looks somewhat like a small amphitheater. It's also known as Celebrity Manor. Among its famous guests over the years have been Bishop Pike, Adam (Batman) West, John Wayne, Jill St. John and Hugh M. Hefner.

At Aspen Meadows, which describes itself as a community rather than a hotel, you can rent an entire house— accommodating six comfortably and very tastefully decorated, too—for $90 a day, which includes use of the sauna and steam baths in the Aspen Meadows Health Center. The Meadows is about a five-minute drive south of Aspen, close enough to enjoy the town's noisier distractions but, for those who like to keep such pleasures within easy reach but at arm's length, not too close. The views are sensational and the newly renovated Four Seasons restaurant can be depended upon for the very best French and American dishes. This isn't the big party scene, but if you're looking for civilized company in an unhustled atmosphere, it's ideal.

The youngest and most impoverished visitors to Aspen stay in dormitories, where accommodations run from the equivalent of a seedy campus boarding-house, such as the Independence, to the Garret, which gives you just enough space to stretch out a sleeping bag. These are probably the most uninhibited digs in town, but they're far from fancy and anyone over 25 tends to be regarded with suspicion.

Much better digs and at only slightly higher rates (around five to six dollars a day) can be found at hostels and inns like the Bunkhaus, Alpine Lodge, Buckhorn and the Floradora, which once won an award for the faithful renovation of its interior. After these, there is a large jump in cost to the Aspen Inn, the Prospector and Hearthstone House, all of which are located either in or close to the center of town. I didn't particularly care for the Aspen Inn, which struck me as an impersonal, sprawling collection of undistinguished real estate, but both the Prospector and the Hearthstone are warm, congenial establishments that provide a high degree of personal service.

Before booking anything, however, get in touch with the Aspen Association (Box 1188, Aspen, Colorado) and find out about the discounts, most of which are applicable from mid-January to the end of the season. There are also airline packages that allow even bigger savings.

The sun goes to bed very early in Aspen and it's about the only thing that does. From four o'clock on, America drinks; at least it does in this town. The cocktail circuit might start at the Little Nell base lodge, the Red Onion Saloon, the Tippler or whichever place happens to be the most popular this season. All of the above were last winter's favorites, but Aspen is notoriously fickle and the whole scene may change this coming season. The Soaring Cork Lounge of the Aspen Inn, for example, was dead only a few seasons ago, but the management revived it by bringing in a country-and-western group; and when that palled, they brought in a rock group. Last season, they had a foursome called the Spice Racq. It was the best in town, but it left at the end of the season to seek greater glories in Los Angeles.

At the height of the silver boom, Aspen was noted for its unusually civilized food. Great and lavish banquets were thrown by the town's millionaires and a tradition of good food became the rule rather than the exception. One of the local delicacies of that period was oyster loaf, a rectangular loaf of newly baked bread with the top crust cut off and the inside removed. The crust and the walls of the loaf were baked and coated with hot butter. Fried oysters were packed inside with layers of sliced lemon and dill pickle. The top was then replaced and the loaf served hot. You may not find that in today's Aspen, but your palate won't be disappointed with what is available.

At the Paragon in the old Roaring Fork building, the menu is French and the decor is silver-boom lush. Seven-course dinners are served at set hours in beautifully appointed private dining rooms hidden behind velvet-curtained entrances that lead off from a main corridor. This is indisputably one of the better restaurants in America, for food and ambiance, and to miss it would be close to sacrilege. Even a drink taken at the bar tastes better there than elsewhere.

You should also save an evening for the Chart House, where the specialty is teriyaki steak—char-broiled beef marinated in soy sauce—served with all the homemade bread and salad you can eat. Steak is, of course, a staple in Aspen; and since the quality and quantity are pretty much the same—good and plenty —all over town, there's not much point in recommending one steakhouse over another, although connoisseurs would give the edge to the Chart House and the Skier's Chalet, where you should try to get a table in the small room upstairs.

There are many diversions from the steak route in Aspen. There's the Golden Barrel, which has seafood; the Mother Lode, pasta (and a potent Irish coffee); the Wienerstube, schnitzel and Viennese pastries; the Golden Horn, beef fondue and Colorado trout; House of Lum, Chinese: and Pinocchio's, a favorite pizza and hamburger stop at lunchtime. Another popular rendezvous for lunch is the Delice Pastry Shop: Everything there, especially the soup, is delicious. One of the poshest places in town is the Copper Kettle, which has a certain curiosity value. It can't seem to make up its mind what sort of restaurant it is. Every night, there's a different title on the menu: "Latin Lands," "Eastern Europe," "The Middle, Near and Far East," "The Land of the Midnight Sun" or "An Evening of Dining in Germany." Desperate times do call for desperate measures, but one feels a definite sympathy for the chef, whose unhappy lot it is to lend his talents to such gastronomic schizophrenia. Still, Time magazine once listed it among the best restaurants in the history of Western man.

If you like music with your food, go to Sunnie's Rendezvous. French food and good jazz played by some famous names. Ruby Braff and Ralph Sutton were there last winter. At the Cork and Crucible, there's a wandering guitarist and a singing waitress, and a menu that offers steak and frog's legs. The Crystal Palace has singing bus boys and waitresses who perform boisterous bits and numbers from Broadway shows between servings of steamed crab and roast beef.

There are no dud night spots in Aspen —at least I've never found any. A skiing crowd could turn a morgue into a party room. In Aspen, they enjoy themselves wherever they go, whether it's a country-and-western joint like the T- Lazy 7, a disco like Galena Street East or an afternoon music lounge like the Twig. The Tippler is also an early cocktail spot, but the music and dancing continue until two in the morning. The Red Onion goes in for polka bands and vocal groups (last year, they had the Kirby Stone Four), while the Woodlander has a bar and dance floor upstairs with pool tables and a fireplace in the lower-level game room.

While you're in Aspen, get the best paper in town, The Aspen Times. It runs an up-to-the-minute guide to night life, movie performances, skiing conditions and special events, and it's also a lively source of local gossip.

Quite a long way from Aspen, in terms of both character and distance, is Vail, an astonishing, rococo creation of alleged Tyrolean-Swiss flavor that was built six years ago in a high valley approximately midway by car between Denver and Aspen. The drive from either point takes about three hours. The nearest airport to Vail is Eagle, 35 miles to the west, and scheduled flights operate daily from Denver.

Vail is what its hard-working PR people call a total resort. It has every variety of accommodation, from small dormitory to luxury chalet. There are stores, restaurants, night clubs, a theater and a clutch of heated swimming pools. Mrs. Jacqueline Kennedy skied at Vail with her children last year and John Murchison, the Texas oilman, owns a house there.

It's more of a family resort than Aspen; and though Vail has a peculiar, if contrived, charm and is equipped with all the essentials for after-ski fun and games, it lacks the gutsiness one finds in Aspen. This is probably an intentional omission, since Vail prides itself on its orderly cleanliness, while Aspen is more concerned with laying on a good time. Vail has no parking signs tacked up on every other wall, whereas Aspenites park their cars wherever they happen to stop; and where Aspen's feeling is that of a genuine town, Vail tends to resemble a movie set.

But if Vail isn't the most swinging resort in the Rockies, its mountains present some of the stiffest challenges, as well as a variety of terrain. The skiing is fantastic and that's why people go there. There's hard-pack and deep powder snow, the runs range in length from one to six miles (Aspen's longest is two) and there is mile upon mile of untracked snow and huge, treeless bowls facing the sun. Between them, the bell gondola lift, two Poma lifts and six double chair lifts carry nearly 8500 skiers an hour; and because some of the best trails and slopes face north, it's sometimes possible at Vail to ski in June.

Altogether, Colorado has more than 1000 peaks two miles high. They include 53 of the 69 highest in the United States, in a mountainous area roughly six times that of Switzerland. The air is clean and crisp; all the resorts are geared for speedy, efficient service; and if it's an expensive paradise, to the skiers who pour in from every corner of the country it is paradise, nonetheless.