By Lisa Pogue
Where to pair Colorado brews with mountain-inspired food at Copper:
by Tracy Greenhalgh
Happy (and Safe) Holidays
While sleigh bells jingle on Pandora and that mug of hot cocoa is steaming on your desk, you’re dreaming of all that fluffy white powder you’re going to dive into over the holidays. You’re plotting first tracks in Upper Enchanted Forest and to pack in as many turns as your burning quads can stand. At the end of the day you want to be plopped down all noodle-legged, pink-cheeked, and windblown to bask in the fire’s glow with your brew in hand, right?
by Samantha White
Copper winch cat operator, Paul Hoagland, builds world class race courses
By Lu Snyder
One needn’t go far in Summit County to bump into an Olympic hopeful, contender or champion. They come here to train. They come here to live. Paul Hoagland came to Summit County with an Olympic dream—but his was a little different than the others.
“I’ve always liked winter sports, especially skiing,” he says. “I was never competitive, though. It was always just for fun.”
by Samantha White
An Intro Session is a 2-hour guided tour of The Barn at Copper with a Woodward Coach assisting you along the way. This session is offered to anyone interested anywhere from ages 7 and up (children that are 5 and 6 must be accompanied by a parent). Throughout the duration of the session, visitors can gain better insight on how to properly use The Barn’s features safely and maximize their potential for air awareness and progression.
by Sally Francklyn
Meet the Walker family. Jennifer Walker works in the ski and ride school. Their son Colby is a ski patroller, and their other son, Wicks (shortened from Alex, when Colby was young and he couldn’t pronounce those two syllables) works in the trail crew. Since Copper Mountain opened in 1972, and Jennifer joined the ski instructing team in 1977, she’s almost been there as long as the resort’s been turning its’ wheels.
by Mikaela Ruland
I fell in love with skiing on the slopes of Copper Mountain. I wasn’t even old enough to properly walk, but there I was on my tiny skis, in my puffy purple snowsuit, wobbling down the bunny hills between my dad’s legs, attached to him by neon pink leashes.