Stiff notes. Hairpin turns. Massive falls.
Colorado roads can be scary in any season, but winter introduces an extra level of fear.
As an avid skier living in the state for over 10 years, I've had quite a few close accidents on slippery mountain roads. Several years ago, on a February morning, I still couldn't shake a white-knuckled drive.
The forecast (new snow!) seemed ideal for a weekend of skiing in Summit County with friends. And as expected, Saturday went well. Sunday was going to be even better.
Then the forecasts started to change; More snow was forecast with the storm. So we decided to go back to the original plan for another full day of skiing. Instead, we would ski for half a day and avoid the traffic (and storm) out of town. After all, we didn't want to get stuck behind the many others who “didn't know how to drive in the snow.”
We woke up the next morning to a foot of fresh powder and the flakes were still flying. The storm had arrived early. But we got into my sports sedan, intending to follow through on the previous night's decision.
Plans changed as soon as the vehicle's tires began rolling, spurred by a brief struggle to exit the hotel parking lot. Without debate, we knew we wouldn't make it to the trails that day, the question now being how to get back safely to Colorado Springs: via Interstate 70 or the Hoosier Pass.
Having the last laugh, I opted for the Hoosier Pass and hoped my all-wheel drive would work as advertised.
After struggling through Breckenridge, we arrived at the base of the Hoosier Pass climb. The whiteout conditions were there to welcome us.
Advancing at 8 km/h behind a line of vehicles much larger and more efficient than mine, we continued our route in the deep snow, crossing our fingers. Every time the traffic slowed down, the wheels would spin on the slippery surface. But each time, the tire tread ended up catching and the vehicle continued to climb.
Eventually we crossed the Continental Divide at 11,500 feet and everyone in the car breathed a sigh of relief. From there it would be mostly downhill.
Of course, the descent carried its own risks. Any momentum we had gained now seemed to be working against us. Better equipped vehicles were now moving much faster, overtaking our slow and mostly controlled roll at every available opportunity despite very poor visibility.
Fortunately, no tragedy accompanies this story. After a few more harrowing moments over a few mountain passes and through an icy canyon, we saw a familiar sight cutting through the blowing snow: the sign for Rudy's “Country Store” and the Bar-BQ on the way. west side of Colorado Springs.
It had been about six hours since we left the hotel, and everyone in the car was desperate for an opportunity to get their feet back on the ground. I removed my fingers from the steering wheel, took a deep breath, and happily joined them inside.
