Crested Butte: We came. We saw. We got conquered.

This past weekend I made the long and arduous journey to a magical little place called Crested Butte, CO. A place where the locals shred like pros and party like rock-stars. The adventure began in Denver  at the local fueling station where I mentally prepared myself for a multiple fill up 5 hour voyage across the plains and passes of Colorado. After briefly checking my bank account's status (thumbs up) I hopped in the driver's seat, strapped in (click it or ticket) and slapped my buddy Dustin a solid five. We were on our way to battle the steeps, test skis, and see what this giant rock in the middle of nowhere had to offer us. Fast forward about 8 minutes and we found ourselves on the side of Highway 6 not more than 10 miles outside of Denver with a flat tire and no spare. I'm just kidding that didn't happen but it would have made things a little more interesting if it did.

Jenna (Powder7 Shop Pup) and her CB buddy Blaze

5 hours, 6 Redbulls and a brief Subway stop later we found ourselves staring at a massive mound of dirt and rock protruding into the early evening sky. After a long awaited reunion with some old friends and a couple of whiskey gingers we cruised to Elk Street to see what this town had to offer. Turns out it had more to offer than I thought. Kochevars Saloon offered up dirt cheap tall boys of PBR, billiards, quarters, loud music and here's the kicker, flip cup. Not a bad combination of inebriating activities and cocktails.  Before I knew it 2 hours had passed and I was two-stepping to the soothing sounds of dubstep and electronic beats, bumping shoulders with a young senior citizen and a twenty something at The Eldo (like I said, the locals party like rock-stars). After a quick ride home and a couple of glasses of water, it was time to hit the blow up mattress.

Icelantic demo. Check out the 2013 skis!

I woke up at the crack of 7:15 am feeling not much different than how I had felt when I entered a brief PBR induced coma several hours earlier. It was time to shred and demo some Icelantic Skis. Crested Butte is steep, sunny and just plain-old extreme. From the "North Face" to "Big Chute" we dodged trees, hit rocks and charged some of the gnarliest in-bounds terrain I have ever skied. I bobbed and weaved like Ali on the  Icelantic Gypsies. Floaty, agile and stable, this ski was built for the Butte. After a few hours of ripping  we called it quits and headed straight for Bloody Mary town. There's nothing quite like kicking back on the sun deck, "cheersing" the day with your ski pals, admiring one another's goggle tans (or burns in our case) and reflecting on who had the best run vs. who biffed it the hardest.  We watched the alpenglow form across the peaks (and across the faces of those of us who forgot to put on sunscreen) and decided it was time to get ready for the evening's festivity. Which just so happened to be a Big Air contest on the main street of town.

Big Air Booter in Down Town Crested Bu

Never before had I seen such a dangerous pile of snow formed in what appeared to be the shape of a gap step up jump. I mean this thing was scary. The athletes didn't seem to mind though. Boarders and skiers alike sent it off this huck pile. While the majority of participants ended up smacking the face of the step up, the rest were landing flat - if they landed at all. It was brutal. Amidst the carnage, a few shredders emerged victorious and nobody was too badly injured. The shenanigans continued as we joined the crowds and ventured to LoBar for the Big Air after party. Hours of dancing, catching up with old friends and making new ones ensued. Top the night off with a two mile hike home because we missed our ride and you've got yourself a wrap.

Big Air Live Music

The next morning consisted of checking in with buddies,  saying goodbyes, Paul Harvey Sandwiches (local secret) and somehow locating all of our gear and getting it in the car without forgetting anything. After a quick systems check, we reluctantly belted up and watched the Butte slowly shrink away in the rear-view as we hightailed it home. It was a memorable experience and I am excited to say that I will definitely be visiting Crested Butte again in the near future. Hopefully this time we will be blessed with feet of fresh powder to boldly take us where we could not shred this season due to lack of snow.

Dustin enjoying a Paul Harvey while Homer looks on