Keystone, CO – A full moon rose above the ramparts of
the Continental Divide, as the rental car engine whined up one side of Loveland
Pass and down the other. It’s a good thing that I remembered to feed the gerbils
that ran on the treadmill used to power the tiny foreign subcompact. When the
road’s grade eased as it approached the parking lot of Keystone Resort, the
glow of the setting sun filled the sky above the Summit County town of Dillon
further west.

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Years had passed since I was last here.  As a Colorado child in the early ‘70s,
my family had a season pass at Keystone, and I had been back for a day or two
in the mid-1980s.  Both periods were well before the addition of terrain in
the Outback and North Peak sectors, and I still found myself unable to sample
those runs, which reportedly have added a decidedly advanced element to the
largely intermediate Main Mountain area.

I was here this night only for an evening night skiing session.  Keystone enjoys
singular status as the only Front Range Colorado ski area to now offer turns
under the lights, and the illuminated terrain is restricted to the Main Mountain. 
With 2,340 vertical feet (714 m) of night skiing and snowboarding on 17 trails
covering 235 acres (95 ha) serviced by 7 lifts, including a high-speed base-to-summit
gondola and the Summit Express, that restriction in no way limits your enjoyment
after the sun goes down.

Colorado has changed in many ways over the past decade or so, and traffic along
I-70 is no exception.  On Sunday evenings during the ski season, it’s not at
all unusual to require several hours to drive the 60 miles from the Eisenhower
Tunnel to Denver.  The choice is a simple one: spend your Sunday evening behind
the wheel, or spend it making turns.  I didn’t think twice.

The River Run Village was filled with diners, window shoppers and strolling
couples and families as I carried my skis towards the gondola, past aesthetically
pleasing stores, restaurants and retail shops.  Most folks carrying their equipment
were heading in the opposite direction, though, and it felt strange to be actually
arriving at a destination resort at 6:00 p.m.  Keystone’s daily lift
ticket includes skiing and riding privileges until the lights are turned off
at 8:00 p.m., so die-hard skiers, late risers and the traffic-adverse may continue
to yo-yo on Keystone’s main lifts until they run out of energy or enthusiasm. 

Night skiing takes place in an entirely different dimension.  The air is often
incredibly still, and crystal-clear sounds tend to carry for amazing distances. 
Flat light and low-light conditions are dispelled by the terrain shadows created
by sodium vapor lamps lining the edges of trails.  It can also be amazingly
cold on a crystal-clear January night.

That’s where the gondola comes in handy – a warm, welcome addition to the typical
night skiing phenomenon.  It seemed that most of my lift companions that night
hailed from Texas, destination skiers visiting Keystone for the week.  All had
only positive reflections on Keystone’s night skiing program, with many actually
preferring its ample elbowroom and relaxing environment to the resort’s daytime
operations.  Two gentlemen whom I encountered would regularly ski until dinner
time, and join their families at the condo for the meal before heading back
out for a few more runs.  Once they hit the switch at 8:00, the two would rejoin
their spouses in the hot tub for a relaxing soak.  As one of them described,
it was in his mind “the perfect vacation.”

I tore up many runs before quitting time.  Spring Dipper, Frenchman and Flying
Dutchman all sported perfectly groomed corduroy, and in the peaceful solitude
they were perfect for executing blistering wall-to-wall GS turns.  Despite the
screaming pace, everything still felt oddly relaxed.  Nowhere was the sensation
that I had to pound in as many runs as I could.

In fact, even by closing time, I felt the urge to linger at Keystone yet longer,
easing myself into the base village’s Great Northern Tavern & Brewery for
a relaxing glass of chardonnay and a delightful lemon sea scallop preparation. 
By the time I started back up Loveland Pass, it was nearly 10:00 p.m.

But wait … the full moon now shone strongly overhead, rendering the perfect
night for a moonlit ski atop Loveland Pass.  As I crested the pass’ summit,
the roadsides buzzed with the activity of skiers and snowboarders heading out
along the Divide for that most magical of moments: backcountry sliding under
nature’s version of the sodium vapor lamp. 

I had a burning desire to join one of the groups of friendly locals, yet somehow
my legs didn’t seem to have it in them.  I chose the next best option, strapping
on my snowshoes and heading west atop the 12,000-foot crest of the Divide. 
The trail lights of Keystone for some reason were still shining brightly to
the west, and the lights of Dillon twinkled in the cold, thin, dry air beyond. 
Below me and to the east, the lights of cars streamed into and out of the Eisenhower
Tunnel, and occasionally the slower glow of the headlights of a car ascending
Loveland Pass clung to the hillsides.  In the calm night air, the muffled voices
of skiers miles away in the dark could still be heard.  After traversing the
ridgeline for a couple of miles in the direction of Loveland Basin’s new Lift
9, I sat down to drink in the solitude.

A lone snowboarder approached as I stood up to head back.  “Nice night to be
riding,” I acknowledged.

“Sure is,” he enthused, “did you see the lights of Keystone over there?”

“Yes,” I confirmed.  “This is an interesting angle from which to view them.”The
tone of the conversation changed.  “Poor bastards,” he lamented.  “With all
of that light, they can’t see a thing.”

I don’t know about that.  While the ethereal midnight experience atop Loveland
Pass is a once-in-a-lifetime oment, it seems to me that night sliders at Keystone
have found a better option than sitting in traffic, and one that doesn’t require
a full moon every night to enjoy.