October's Post

     October may just be the only time when skiers from both hemispheres are thinking about snow. It is a month of frosts and the occasional storm for gringos, our prelude to colder weather, thicker frosts, and the coming season. Yet for skiing’s southern brethren, who are tired and tanned from the past four months, October brings closure, el finiquito de trabajo. It is a time when the last whites become browns, when winter’s nomads must fill the valleys, and when the only resort that matters (according to this blog) shuts its doors. So even as I travel northward, where snow fills my horizon, this October mind is reflective. It must naturally look backward and take the good season’s inventory.

     My first criterion of a great winter is always high snowfall, preferably on the dry side. By that standard, Portillo did just fine. With over five meters total, we cruised through September like it was August – just blue skies and plenty of snow, the finest spring conditions that I can remember. But let’s go back to August, oh boy, and July too, when there were only storms. Search through past entries to glimpse the glory. It’s all there: powder more powder hikes everything’s covered las pistas groomed soft. From mid-July through August, all I remember is the road being closed, snow every weekend. But the people were happy because the good times in Portillo begin and end on the slopes.

     While snow is the priority, let us not forget that whom you spend the winter with can almost be as important as the conditions. Portillo, as always, spent the 2011 season enjoying the company of ex-Presidents, Chilean celebrities, and skiing royalty. Our most recent VIPs were the Olympic teamers, who join us every spring to train on Roca Jack. The crowd favorite, however, was Chris Davenport and his humble gang (Mike Douglas, Ingrid Backstrom, Chris Anthony, Wendy Fisher), who provide big-mountain clinics each August. Finally, lured by Portillo’s steep and rocky terrain, there were the film and photo crews, which included Sweetgrass productions, Patagonia, and Mountain Hardware. Those groups aside, I also checked in families, couples, friends, and lone wanderers from all over the world. In reality, Portillo spent the winter with friends: the new, the old, and the very old. It was another year of memories and connections; another year of lunches at Tío Bob’s, aprés ski at the pool, and nights everywhere. At the big yellow hotel with its big blue lake, it was just another perfect year of bluebird powder days in the cordillera.

     Thanks to everyone who read the blog this season. To those readers who I met personally, it was a pleasure. This is obviously the last entry until… next season? Portillo has twice been my summer home, so who knows. ¡Ojalá nos veamos luego!

Mountain Surgery Olympics

     Each and every September Roca Jack gets a face lift. Because when the Olympic teams arrive, she's got to look nice. So the machines spruce her up. Up and down they go, plowing away the wrinkles and the ruggedness. Oh they leave plenty of the old parts behind, you know, for those of us who don't wear flashy spandex. But the rest is groomed to ice, poked with gates, and skied sooooo fast. From Roca the course veers skier's right, where it intersects with El Decenso, briefly crossing Juncalillo. For most of the season, El Decenso is a rolling powder field. Not until it too is completely resurfaced does Portillo's renowned training run materialize.

     Up and down they go, faster than the machines and more entertaining, the best ski racers in the world. Everyone recognizes the big names (Mancuso, Vonn, Lund Svindal), but they're all breakneck. You gotta see it. And you can - no one is here. We aren't hosting a World Cup race, there are no crowds. Just a few appreciative fans and their heroes. In line yesterday, I watched three gringos meet "one of their favorites," Aksel the man. Pictures were taken, casually, and the five of us grabbed the next t-bar. More chatter. The Norwegian gold-medalist bombed down the course minutes later, the four of us watching and shaking our heads. This is why Roca Jack gets the special treatment, I thought. For them and for us. They train, we watch. They ski, we ski. Aksel wins the super-combined next season and those three gentleman can say they watched him get there. Welcome to Portillo.

Roca Jack to Decenso... to victory?!

Vacation Sickness Valpo

     The title sort of says it all. I recently went on vacation, beginning in gorgeous Valparaiso, where I fell sick from a large platter of clams. Or at least I think so. Hence the extended break from the blog. However, when I got back a few hours ago and saw Lindsey Vonn in the lobby, I decided it was time for an entry.. Yes, the U.S. Ski Team is here (women's speed events), along with a slew of Norweigan and Candanians alpiners. Maybe the Swiss. Like I said, I've been away (a little sick) and taking in Chile. But I'm back and refreshed, excited that so many giants (Axel Svindal) are cruising around the hotel. I'm not working full-time until Saturday, so I'll be out watching and reporting on the teams tomorrow.

Wine Festival

Wine and Dine Wine.

    Portillo boasts a spirited drinking culture. If you put the pieces together, it totally makes sense: Chile is the world’s fifth largest exporter of wine, and Mendoza, home of the Malbec, is right next-door. Add a mountain man’s fondness for aprés-ski to these geographical (and cultural) considerations, and you get a hotel that honors the beverage and those who drink it. But don’t get me wrong, Portillo is not a frat party and canned beer is a rarity – a “specialty” I’ve only enjoyed in my Siberia. The drinks of choice here are premium Pisco sours and fine wines. Considering our location, how couldn’t they be?

    This week, however, Portillo is all about WINE. Good wines from all over Chile. Remember Wine Week from July? Well now it’s late August, we’re entering the season’s final stretch, and we’ve renamed it WINE FESTIVAL. Is this week any different from our last vino extravaganza? Of course not! With nightly wine tastings and giveaways from such vineyards as Casas del Bosque (Sunday), Concha y Toro (Monday), and Anakena (Tuesday), what is there to improve? Only the most naïve and intrepid drinkers, and I’m mostly talking about gringos my age, would want more free alcohol. Let us not forget that skiing is still the (adult) priority. But speaking of skiing, free booze, and good times, and I hope I’m not out of line here, allow me to outline Sunday.

9am to 5pm - Ski Portillo (maybe a beer at lunch?)
5pm to 6 pm – “Once,” meaning Tea and Coffee
6:30pm to 7:30pm – Wine Tasting of Casa del Bosque
8pm to 9pm – Welcome Cocktail (pisco, more wine, pisco, wine)
10pm- 2am – Bar/Disco/Posada migration

My point is that here, in a little place called Portillo, the beer flows like wine. Moreover, this week the beer is wine! To be honest I’ve yet to attend a tasting this season. I enjoyed my share last year, and, if things are going my way, I’m working by then anyways. From the desk, all I observe is the crowd of well-dressed people trolling the lobby, waiting for the doors to open. Then, an hour later, I get to salute the purple-lipped passersby, who are already asking to sign up for tomorrow. Que bueno.

Laguna del Inca

    Below I've posted my most recent submission for Ski Club Great Britain, which I wrote for last Friday. A little over a week later and much has changed. The lake is still frozen (though by no means skiable!) and white, but the superstars have left. They'll be missed. Chins up, though! It's Wine Fest, meaning classy tastings all week, and there's nothing wrong with that. More on Wine Fest to come. The following entry is about the lake, kind of...

 
    For weeks I’ve waited for Hotel Portillo’s picturesque backdrop, the Laguna del Inca, to freeze over. On sun-drenched days the lake’s deep blue waters anchor a jaw-dropping view, which rivals that of any resort in either hemisphere. But the lake unfrozen too late in the season also means insufficient snowfall. Its mandatory disappearance is a season-marker, denoting more access to deep skiing. And by August that’s definitely the priority, vista or no vista. Following a couple of cold fronts the date seemed set; certain patches of ice, though riddled with streams, looked promising. Yet the weather, as fickle as ever, refused to cooperate long enough for complete coverage. That is until yesterday, when the Laguna became a providential crater of white. Not surprisingly, this morning was also the best skiing I’ve had all year.

     Even with the recent dump, traversing across the ice is some weeks out. My suggestion that a fully covered lake denotes “more access” stems from basic Portillo logic: when there’s enough snow to hide the lake, there’s enough snow to ski everywhere. Following that logic, which I admit isn’t spectacular, everything opened today. Have I ever mentioned Vizcachas before? What about Gargantita? The latter consists of two beautiful chutes that run parallel with Garganta, directly beneath the Plateau lift, making their frequent closures that more torturous. The former is accessed via Portillo’s signature, five-person va et vient lift and failed to even open last year. But the fated time has arrived – the lake is frozen! – and Gargantita and Vizcachas are open and skiable.

     What’s more is the timing couldn’t be better. Portillo is currently the host of Chris Davenport’s eighth consecutive Ski with the Superstars camp, and between the clinic’s handful of pros and the ambitious skiers tailing them, the more advanced terrain that’s open the better. This morning Chris Anthony, for example, boosted a cliff at the choke of Gargantita that I’d previously doubted was possible. Later in the day I saw Wendy Fisher enjoy fresh snow in a treacherous little couloir off Cara Cara, something questionable just three days ago. Although I failed to spot Mike Douglas or Ingrid Backstrom, the remaining two coaches working with Davenport, I’m certain they too were lapping Vizcachas like superstars.

     As a long-time skier, I'm stoked that so many big names have converged at Portillo, especially now with the conditions optimal. So I ask, is it mere coincidence that the lake froze yesterday? Or that everything opened this morning? Or that some of skiing’s greatest legends arrived for two weeks on Saturday? All sarcasm aside, the Laguna del Inca is truly a magnificent and stupefying body of water… and I’m glad, in superstitious way, that it’s gone.

Standing at the top of Vizcachas

Super-C

Lots to ski here

     Portillo is well known for having advanced terrain. The t-bars and the traverses thereafter give access to lots of steep skiing. Hidden chutes, couloirs, and cliffs riddle what may at first seem like a relatively small resort. Yet size is relative to ability, and those capable of discovery are rarely disappointed by what’s around. The Super-C, a legendary run in Portillo, epitomizes such opportunity. El Super-C begins where Roca Jack ends. As the name implies, it’s a badass curve that wraps above Roca, reaches the top of the ridge, and drops down into Estadio, which is also reachable from the Roca traverse. The whole thing takes between two and four hours, depending on the boot back and personal stamina. When I hiked the Super-C for the first time on Tuesday it took me a little over two hours. My secret, however, was by no means good fitness. At least fifteen people had made the trek earlier that morning, and the path was well established. See, the Super-C is a must do, and guests will jump at the opportunity when the strong and brave have broken the trail. From the hotel, where all of Roca is visible, you can often follow the line of skiers slowly taking on the climb.

     Like I said, it was my turn on Tuesday. Despite it being a less-than-average day, the views were unbeatable. Upon breaking just forty minutes in, I naturally turned around: Aconcagua had sprouted over the opposing ridge. Dark and far away, it looked like Mount Doom towering over our quaint Portillo compound. But from there on out, the scenery didn’t change – everything just kept getting smaller. With about a third of the way to go, I took another (extended) break with group of gringos. I had gotten about an hour’s head start on my two friends, and didn’t start work until four, so there was no rush. Exhausted and sweaty, I threw off my helmet… only to see Ingrid Backstrom lounging next to me. We know each other from this season and last, but I’ll admit that I was still star-struck. Hiking the Super-C behind Ingrid and crew?! Then the sun came out.

Aconcagua big

Lookin down

    After half an hour of soaking in the Andes, the gringos started packing it up. I waited behind to snap some photos and simply be there. I’ve down my share of hiking above the traverses, but there’s no route equal to the Super-C. The sheer accessibility of what I was able to witness, merely hours from the hotel, is incredible. When I finished the climb it was one o’clock and I was starving. There was no telling how far back, my friends were, so I chose not lounge for too long. Still it was absolutely necessary to look out across the adjacent valley. A short trot sans skis and I was staring into untamed cordillera. No hotels, no tracks. It was wild. Still my over sized North American stomach beckoned and I strapped on my skis. The first half of the descent sits in complete shadows, so the snow was great. A bit chewed (or possibly fluffed) up but soft. By the time the Super-C opened up into Estadio, I was dead. A grateful dead. I’d never worked that hard for a run in my life, and I wished I’d relaxed my body a bit longer at the top. But again, the pre-shift meal is a priority, especially after such a hike, so I skied quickly. Lunch at Tío Bob’s has never been better.

The next valley over

The Road to Portillo

     There's no comparing Portillo to Park City, where I grew up. Here, the staff is mostly Chilean, cigarettes and speedos are socially acceptable, and tree-skiing doesn't exist. Most of you are probably familiar with Park City (Olympics, Sundance, O'Shucks), so I'll just say that it's Portillo's giltzy opposite. Yet despite such clear cultural differences between the two, do you know what strikes me as the most dissimilar? Access. Park City is rightfully advertised as being
"conveniently located," 40 minutes from Salt Lake City and an international airport. Parley's Canyon, which connects the mountains with the valley, is a well-maintained, three lane passageway that rarely closes. Parley's sick and twisted cousin is el Camino de los Libertadores... The road to Portillo from Los Andes, our closest neighbor, is a steep beast that consists of thirty plus switchbacks and hundreds of potholes. On the best of days, it takes three hours to drop into Santiago. But if you've been reading the blog, you know that with even the least bit of snow the road closes - potentially for days. Avalanches and ice and the greatest dangers, and the Chilean government won't hesitate to trap guests, up or down.

A truck, a chair, and the road

     Yet these inherent dangers, the constant perils of snow and ice, are just half the story. Rapid access to the hotel is equally impeded by an almost daily line of trucks, semis from across South America that naturally move at a snail's pace. In reality, Portillo's closest neighbor is the nearby border crossing, which, sitting just half a kilometer up the road, is the most significant interchange between Argentina and Chile. With scant amounts of snow, the road closes and Portillo is totally isolated. Without it, Portillo (or rather the Posada) is an elegant pit stop for the hundreds drivers waiting to cross into Argentina. When there's congestion, and there often is, the view Juncalillo chair, as it passes over the road, is mind blowing. Truck after truck after truck down to the valley floor. I've never seen anything like it, really. Although the juxtaposition of such bleak industry with the beauty of Andes can be unnerving for those seeking tranquility in the mountains, please don't let this entry mislead you. The hotel is a good ways from the road, and after their initial ascent most guests quickly forget about the trucks. That is, until they ride Juncalillo... But even then, the congestion is a kind of Chilean novelty, at least for me. The road to Portillo should be thought of as another fascinating part of the Portillo experience, which, for the reasons stated above, is not your minutes-from-the-tarmac, boots-on-in-the-car kind of vacation. Yet even though getting to Portillo can be a real challenge, those that make the journey rarely do it once.

Exhibit A

Snow = empty