It’s no secret Aspen has a reputation for exclusivity, but even by the Colorado ski resort’s opulent standards the scene before us seems excessive. It’s early April and we’re perched at the top of an immaculately groomed but unfathomably empty ski run, which flows like spilt milk down the mountain to a distant vanishing point somewhere in the Roaring Fork Valley.
This doesn’t seem right. We’re in one of the world’s most famous ski resorts, on a perfect bluebird day, and there’s not a single other skier in sight. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t realise we had booked exclusive use of the mountain,” I quip to our ski guide, Jenn Gibbons, idly wondering what such an arrangement might cost. Jenn laughs. “Oh, this is normal for spring,” she says. “It’s mostly just workers and locals up here.”
Any fears we were leaving it too late in the season had been banished over breakfast at our hotel earlier, hearing other guests gush about having just had the greatest ski day of their lives. Half a metre of snow fell the previous week. There was talk of the temperature hitting the 60s soon. I have no idea how warm that is in logical measurements, but it sounded rather pleasant.
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