At Its Soul, Aspen Is Still a Throwback Mountain Town...If You Know Where to Look
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Murray Hall
Winter weather in Western Colorado can be fickle—except on Aspen Highlands mountain, where every day at noon and two there's a 100 percent chance of Champagne showers. During my first (and only) visit to the famously hedonistic high-altitude Cloud Nine Alpine Bistro, it took mere minutes for the man next to me to climb up on his table, put on his Gucci goggles, pull off his shirt, and begin spraying Veuve Clicquot across the room, eliciting cheers and an impromptu dance party.
But visitors can do other kinds of hooting and hollering at Aspen Highlands, one of the four mountains that make up the Aspen Snowmass area (the others are Aspen, Buttermilk, and Snowmass), all skiable under a single lift pass. On a perfect bluebird morning in March, I rose early to join a group of powder seekers willing to boot-pack some 780-plus vertical feet to reach the top of Highland Bowl. It was a slow slog, but getting first tracks on some of Colorado's steepest runs in unfathomably floaty, fluffy snow was a powerful motivator. A chairlift draped in prayer flags marked the summit, and from there we dropped into the 270-acre expanse, whooping with sheer delight.
During the nearly 10 years I've lived in Colorado, I have visited Aspen a few times every winter. In recent seasons I've heard a lot of chatter about Aspen losing its soul. Of course, celebrities, beginning with the likes of Cary Grant and Lucille Ball, have been coming here since the 1950s. But lately the insider energy has felt more overwhelming than ever. Twenty nineteen saw the opening of the Snow Lodge, a restaurant and music venue from the team behind Montauk's sceney Surf Lodge, followed by the launch of AspenX, an exclusive on-mountain club and retail store that collaborated with Prada on après sweatshirts and sporty jackets. Lately rumors have been swirling that an Aman is on its way.
But if you look beyond the glitz, gluttony, and après pop-ups, Aspen remains appealingly nuanced. Ski bums share the slopes with billionaires. At the Western-themed J-Bar, the stools are occupied both by influencers and Stetson-topped ranchers. A Louis Vuitton boutique neighbors Ute Mountaineer, a family-run business that has rented out ski gear since the '70s. And at its heart, Aspen is still about unparalleled access to epic wilderness and world-class terrain.
“The idea that we're all fur coats and Cristal keeps the best parts of the mountains quiet,” said Ted Mahon, a local ski instructor, during an evening chat in the Buttermilk Mountain parking lot. “You can be part of that scene, or you can do the outdoors thing.” Mahon and I had come to do the outdoors thing. It was the season's final full moon dinner at the Cliffhouse, a restaurant perched at 9,900 feet. With a few of my Aspen friends and throngs of other skiers, Mahon and I stuffed layers and headlamps into our packs and attached adhesive skins to our skis before beginning our uphill trek under the golden glow of the sinking sun.
After a 75-minute climb, we arrived to live music and the savory aroma of garlic, onions, and soy sauce wafting from the cafeteria-style venue's beloved Mongolian grill. Sitting shoulder to shoulder at communal tables, we drank beer and feasted on sizzling bowls of stir-fry, then bundled up and descended the mountain under the light of the Worm Moon. Hot dog skiers, hitting jumps and catching air, blazed past us. A group of ladies in matching neon pink snowsuits trailed us with a speaker blaring Taylor Swift's “Anti-Hero.” This was my kind of party.
Aspen's charmingly historic downtown sits directly below Aspen Mountain, a 11,262-foot massif rising straight up from Durant Avenue. Contrary to popular perception, Ajax, as it is locally known, is not a beginners mountain. It's full of tight trees and pitchy chutes. There's not a single green run to be found. Last season saw the addition of 150 acres of expert runs along its high-altitude north-facing slopes.
This past winter, Chris Davenport, a two-time free-skiing world champion who calls Aspen home, introduced me to an even bigger adrenaline rush: 1,500 acres of open bowls and glades on the far side of Ajax. You can access the terrain on guided snowcat trips or on your own, if you have the knowledge and safety gear. When Davenport took me on this out-of-bounds adventure, we marveled at how removed we felt from the DJs and striped cabanas of the AspenX Beach Club, only a few miles away, engulfed as we were in the silence and solitude of the backcountry.
But you don't need to venture off-piste to experience the understated aspects of Aspen. Less than 10 minutes from downtown is Highlands, with its formidable bowl, as well as family-friendly Buttermilk, which draws a Gen Z crowd each year when it hosts the X Games. Fifteen minutes farther west is Snowmass, the area's most under-the-radar mountain. Because the mountain was often covered in clouds, the Ute Indian Tribe called it the Cold Woman, believing it to be the source of bad weather. It has some of the best skiing in the country, including one of the longest vertical descents in all of North America at 4,406 quad-burning feet.
Years ago my friends and I would spend mornings lapping the double black runs off Snowmass's Cirque Lift. Powder-drunk, we'd take in the beguiling views of the Maroon Bells, in my opinion Colorado's prettiest twin peaks, before losing our mountain buzz when we returned to the snoozy Snowmass base area. Once the lifts stopped spinning, there was no place to eat, drink, or sleep. A proper ski area needs community, so we'd seek it out back in Aspen, often heading to the patio of Ajax Tavern for the addictive Parmesan-dusted truffle fries and living-room-like atmosphere.
Snowmass, which was developed in 1967—more than two decades after Aspen—was inspired by Austria's Arlberg ski region. But it took years for the European vibe to catch on. It wasn't until the past decade and the addition of stylish lodging, a base area anchored by a skating rink, and refined on-mountain restaurants that the resort started to resemble swanky ski towns like Zermatt or Cortina.
The day after our moonlight dinner, my friends and I caught the first chair at Snowmass, plotting runs as we rode up that would lead us to the massive front door of Sam's restaurant right around noon. This mid-mountain spot feels straight out of the Dolomites. Upon arrival, we swapped our ski boots for house slippers and settled into a table beneath the floor-to-ceiling windows that perfectly frame the Elk Mountains. The decadent rigatoni Bolognese was so good that we asked for plastic bags for the leftovers, tucking them very carefully into our jackets before one final run.
The mountains of Aspen Snowmass could keep you challenged for an entire season. I've been learning, however, that the surrounding wilderness is home to treasures that could take a lifetime to discover. Tucked into the Roaring Fork Valley, Aspen sits at the doorstep of the sprawling 2.3-million-acre White River National Forest, which includes eight wilderness areas, 10 peaks exceeding an elevation of 14,000 feet, and more than 2,500 miles of trails. The adventure potential in winter is limitless.
There are more than 60 miles of cross-country and snowshoe trails, all free to use. You can Nordic-ski to the Maroon Bells or follow the Rio Grande Trail to Woody Creek Tavern, Hunter S. Thompson's old haunt, which now has a seriously good menu thanks to new owners who respectfully renovated the iconic spot.
But my favorite ski-to-lunch adventure departs from a ghost town. One morning my friends and I made the 30-minute drive from downtown Aspen to Ashcroft Ski Touring Center. Across the road is a cluster of restored log buildings, the remnants of the turn-of-the-century silver mining town of Ashcroft, now listed on the National Register of Historical Places. Our $25 pass gave us access to 20-plus miles of groomed trails spread across 600 acres of subalpine valley floor, including the 1.5-mile creekside route that leads to Pine Creek Cookhouse.
The fire-warmed dining room is one of Aspen's most sought-after reservations. We reached the off-the-grid log cabin just as flurries began to fall. Famished from our efforts, we ordered hearty Rocky Mountain fare, including hickory-smoked venison French dip sandwiches and elk-stuffed cremini mushrooms, and perhaps a few too many hot toddies. On a final icy downhill, we all wiped out, laughing as we piled one atop another.
Having possibly anticipated calamity, Jeff Isaacson, the 71-year-old director of Ashcroft's Nordic center for more than three decades, was waiting outside to help us gather our poles and skis. With his deeply etched crow's-feet radiating from bright eyes and a shock of snowy hair contrasting with tan skin, he looked the part. “The rich would come out here and be awed by the raw beauty,” he told us. “De Niro would even drive out just to use the old outhouse.” Isaacson moved to Aspen from Southern California in 1973. “I knew when I arrived it wouldn't stay the same,” he said. “But if you stay long enough, you discover Aspen has true depth.”
Not all change in Aspen is bad. One evening during my March Aspen trip, the locally loved Mountain Chalet, a modest hotel with modest prices, threw a wild farewell party. Run since 1954 by the Melville family, this Aspen fixture has always felt more like someone's home, with its crooked floors, crocheted-alpine decor, and glühwein dinner parties. Some decried Mountain Chalet's closure as the death knell for an older, more authentic Aspen. But I view its redevelopment, by McGuire Moorman Lambert Hospitality—the same group behind the rebirth of New Orleans's hip Hotel Saint Vincent—as a positive. If anyone knows how to stay true to the original spirit of a place, it's the group's partner, Liz Lambert, a visionary hotelier with a long track record of thoughtfully weaving in elements of local design and history at properties like the soulful Hotel Saint Cecilia in Austin.
Lambert should find a lot of inspiration in Aspen, the rare mountain town with an abundance of culture. When Walter and Elizabeth Paepcke arrived here from Chicago in 1945 and started the Aspen Skiing Company, they also had a vision of creating a cultural hub. They went on to found the renowned Aspen Institute, as well as the Aspen Music Festival and School, both of which bring in top minds and creative talent from around the globe.
I've had weekends in Aspen that have felt as culturally exciting as any I've spent in New York City. During one visit I went to a screening of the ski comedy Weak Layers where the director, Katie Burrell, was on hand, and attended a performance by pianist Yefim Bronfman, who regularly sells out Carnegie Hall. One evening Christy Mahon, the development director at Aspen Center for Environmental Studies, joined me at Aspen's Winter Words literary series for a reading by one of my favorite authors, Ann Patchett. “We'd be culture-starved living in most other Colorado mountain towns,” Mahon told me, pointing out that places like Crested Butte and Silverton don't have institutions like the Aspen Art Museum or the Bayer Center, dedicated to the work of the Bauhaus master Herbert Bayer.
My last night in town, I wandered into Stranahan's Whiskey Lodge, a new outpost of the cult Denver distillery cofounded by the late Aspen local George Stranahan. I grabbed a seat at the bar, ordered a smoked old-fashioned, and struck up a conversation with a lanky guy next to me who was sporting a shoulder sling (a common accessory in any ski town). He turned out to be the bar's general manager, Max Ben-Hamoo. When I asked if he thought Aspen was becoming unattainable for regular folks, he laughed. “The best parts of this town are free,” he said. I sipped my cocktail and considered his point. You don't have to pay a dime to access the bus system, the Nordic trails, or the backcountry terrain. Many concerts and cultural events are free. And most local businesses give employees a free ski pass as a perk.
A born-and-bred local, Ben-Hamoo used to tell people he was from Western Colorado because saying he was from Aspen was sure to draw a comment or an eye roll. But these days he wears his hometown like a badge of honor. “Having traveled the world, I've come to realize it doesn't get better than Aspen,” he told me. “Hotels get ritzy makeovers, the façades of stores and restaurants change, but the soul of Aspen remains the same.”
Where to eat
High-altitude lunch spot Alpin Room is at the top of Snowmass's Alpine Springs lift for hearty Alsatian fare like caramelized onion fondue tartiflette. Bosq Aspen is a recipient of a Michelin star in 2023. Its tasting-menu-only spot elevates local ingredients with decadent touches like umami butter and caviar. Locals rise long before first chair to skin up Ajax for 58-year-old Bonnie's Restaurant's oatmeal pancakes. On sunny days, the two-tiered deck is always packed. Newly opened Sway Thai is an outpost of a popular Austin institution serves modern riffs on pad thai, panang curry, and other Thai classics on East Hopkins Avenue, Aspen's restaurant row.
Where to stay
A gathering spot since it opened in 1889, downtown landmark Hotel Jerome, Auberge Resorts Collection is known for its low-lit Living Room bar, which looks like it could have been pulled from a Ralph Lauren catalog. Set at the base of Ajax, ski-in, ski-out luxury hotel The Little Nell has an acclaimed contemporary restaurant, a chic wine bar, and an updated spa; Limelight, its low-key sister brand, has two locations in the area. Mollie Aspen—Aspen's first new hotel in five years, opened last winter with a Scandi-Japanese aesthetic and a bar program from the cocktail wizards at Death & Co. The condo-style units at family favorite The Gant, just a five-minute shuttle ride from Ajax, have kitchens as well as resort services like complimentary ski valet and tuning.
Where to aprés
Named for the cable tow that transported skiers up Ajax in the 1930s and '40s, The Boat Tow is an intimate new spot with an all-day menu of craft cocktails and snacks like tater tots and deviled eggs. The $4 beers and affordable menu have made rowdy just-opened watering hole Buck in the center of town an instant hit. With a patio located steps from the Silver Queen Gondola, Ajax Tavern is a prime spot to watch skiers schuss down the slope over truffle fries and pints. Denver-based distillery debuted Stranahan's Whiskey Lodge, a cozy Aspen outpost, in March with a menu of fantastic food, including pretzel hot pockets and Colorado lamb flatbread, accompanied by whiskey flights.
This article appeared in the November 2024 issue of Condé Nast Traveler. Subscribe to the magazine here.
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