When an arctic blast of winter air hits Colorado, I’m reminded of the year I learned the value of keeping one’s thinking well-thawed.

Many years ago, our group of 20-somethings been told that the best time to ski the Colorado Rockies was on New Year’s Day because there were no crowds. We weren’t party people anyway so the idea of no lines sounded too good to pass up.

We arrived early at the ski slope, hauled equipment to the lodge, and began putting on our gear for the day. The snow squealed as we walked and my hands wanted more heat before we even got the day started.

We Didn’t Check the Temperature Immediately

“It’s cold,” I told a friend. “I think I’ll stay inside by the fire and drink hot chocolate.”

She nodded. “I might join you.”

Just then, one of the guys in the group burst through our fair-weather group with lift tickets in his hand. “I got enough for all of us. I figured there’d be lines later, but there weren’t any now.” And he began handing out the tickets. The expensive, no-refund lift tickets.

I studied mine. Could I re-sell it? I studied the lodge. Some skiers had their tickets already. Prepared like us.  Some were settling into comfy chair near the fire, feet clad in thick wool socks already exposed to the fire. Not likely I could re-sell to them.

So no takers looked likely.

So I Buckled Up

I snapped the stiff, cold buckles on my ski boots and hobbled outside, where the frigid air slapped both cheeks and froze the gloss on my lips. Oh, good. What a great start to the day: my lips already frozen.

I popped my rigid boots into the ski bindings and skated to the lift. Nothing seemed to bend. Not the boots or the bindings. Or my knees, for that matter.

Well, surprise. There was no line at all for the lift. Usually I had to wait ten to thirty minutes for the privilege of plopping my cold bottom onto a lift bench and riding through the icy air to the top of the mountain. That day, the white expanse of snow was unmarred. No skiers on it yet.

Those who told us there’d be no lines had been right. New Years Day didn’t have a crowd.

Although I quickly discovered another reason for the lack of a crowd. As I settled onto a lift bench, I got a quick glance at a blackboard nailed to the outside of the warming hut. Written in shaky white letters was the news of the day: it was -38 degrees.

What Was I Doing?

I was outside at 38 degrees below zero? I pulled my stocking cap a little lower on my head. My hair crackled stiffly.

“Follow me.” This was the same guy who had bought the lift tickets. The whole group followed anyway. We were cold sheep, obviously. We let the lift push us through slashing cold air to the top of the lift and then glided toward another ski lift.

“Where are we going?”

“To the top of the mountain. The skiing is great up there.” This from my enthusiastic ticket friend. Although I was questioning the term friend.

The weather doesn’t get warmer as you go up the mountain. Instead, the snow squealed with each turn of the ski. We were cautious. Nobody wanted to fall onto the crunchy slope.

The Lodge Looked Like My Friend

At the top, I made a fast run to the midway lodge with the air slicing through my eyelashes like ice spikes. I couldn’t feel my nose. My ski bindings squealed and my fingers were ten slender ice cubes.

Our group ducked inside the lodge for hot chocolate and a fireplace. The guys with mustaches sported icicles from their upper lips which began to drip in the warmth of the lodge.

Any exposed skin was either bright red or white.

This was fun, right? We paid for this, right? I threw an icy look at my ticket-buying ex-friend but he was deep into coffee and didn’t notice.

An employee wandered by. “We’re watching for frostbite. If we see anything suspicious, we’ll send you back to the lodge.”

Understood.

Out We Went For Round Two

Still working hard to get our money’s worth from those tickets, we finished off the hot chocolate and went out again. We were all inspected before we could ride a lift and one of the women who had sat in the lodge the longest flunked.

“You have to go in now,” the lift attendant told her.

“I have been inside for an hour,” she said.

He shrugged. Her cheeks were white as ice, and she went back in to thaw out more.

The rest of us made another fast run back to the midway lodge and stopped for more hot chocolate. The hot drink vendor was making a killing.

Are We Skiing All Day?

When we were all seated around a table, hats and gloves thawing as we drained hot drinks, I asked, “Are we going to ski all day?”

“Why not?” said the ex-friend. “The snow is fantastic.”

An employee came up to the table before I could toss a thawed-out retort. “You all OK?”

“Yeah, but minus 38 degrees is pretty challenging,” I said.

“Oh, it’s not minus 38,” he said. “Up here, it’s minus 50 with wind chill.”

Turns out we’d been told correctly: there were no lines on that New Year’s Day. Not everyone had frozen brains.