My mountain guide, James, is wearing odd gloves. The mismatch might have been passed off as a new snowboarding trend in any other scenario. Except the odd one belongs to James’ seven-year-old daughter. It’s pink and barely fits over his hand, so he’s had to fashion a bandana to cover the bare skin on his wrist.
He claims it was accidentally scooped up in his pre-dawn scramble to join my wife and me for the inaugural First Tracks Brunch at Purgatory Mountain Resort, a six-hour drive southwest of Denver, Colorado.
It’s 7:30 am, and despite sub-zero temperatures, a good 15cm of fresh snow and his woefully inadequate hand covering, James is threading us through deep pillows of powder, thick Aspen groves and popping us over hidden rocks on a mountain devoid of any other humans.
It’s a dream morning with the sun peeking through the clouds, just illuminating snow-draped peaks.
James, with his pink glove, personifies these mountains. He’s a resourceful, happy-go-lucky snowboarding cowboy with an irreverent attitude and an unmatched warmth, even in this frigid weather.
The lifts have yet to start turning for the public but we’ve already done four ‘laps’ of the ‘Number 8 Chair’. I’ve snowboarded so hard, it feels like we’ve done a full day already, but on we go, catapulting ourselves down the mountain, whistling and wailing like outlaws on horseback, having just robbed a bank.
With a summit elevation of 3299 metres, Purgatory Mountain Resort is high, rugged and remote. There’s 618 metres of vertical drop and a skiable area of 617 hectares, indeed something for everyone in this off-the-radar resort’s steep chutes, tight trees, and wide-open groomers.
Purgatory’s dramatic backdrop. Photo: Supplied
Don’t let the devilish name put you off. These are Hollywood-esque peaks, much closer to heaven than they are to hell. I’ve never skied a resort with such a stunning backdrop. But that’s only half the story here. ‘Purg’ is the sort of place that also holds the legends of outlaws and the pioneers who both terrorised and conquered America’s wild West Coast.
Speaking of which, it wasn’t far from here in nearby Telluride that the legend of Butch Cassidy and his sidekick, The Sundance Kid, was born when they robbed the San Miguel Valley Bank, leaving a trail of mystery and legend in their wake.
As we walk to Dante’s Lodge (another dark nod to Lucifer) for our much-deserved brunch, we’re barely up the stairs before being handed a glass of Bollinger. I look at my watch – 9:45 am – and realise only the devil himself would approve.
For just $58 (which included our exclusive early access to the mountain), my butter-soft pastry, double espresso, eggs benedict, smartly dressed waitress, and the second glass of Bollinger is not the campfire-style chow I expected up here.
Purgatory has three main lodge options for on-mountain accommodation. While they all might feel a little tired inside (most are rented residential apartments with lots of stone and timber), the common spaces hum with the vibrancy and authenticity of a remote Southwest Colorado mountain village.
The picture-perfect Purgatory Resort. Photo: Supplied
In the main lodge, which also features the Durango Mountain Club, after our second day on the hill, we soak in the piping-hot swimming pool with views of both the main lift and the Apres shenanigans at the nearby Bear Bar and Purgy’s Restaurant, later retiring to the private dining room for simple pub fare and a late-night Negroni.
The ski resort is a 30-minute drive from the postcard town of Durango. Step back in time when you stroll through this old mining relic in the Animas River Valley. Most use the town as a base when visiting Purgatory during the winter, but with an average of 300 days of sunshine a year, Durango is also the perfect springboard for summer exploration of nearby national parks and the Durango Silverton narrow gauge railway, which still takes tourists on nostalgic steam train journeys into the mountains.
The combined romance of steam and snow. Photo: Jeremy Drake
The recently refurbished Rochester Hotel is another time capsule of a bygone era. Stunningly decorated with soft finishes and modern bathrooms, the downstairs bar (open until 9pm) is a highlight where you can perch up on a stool and drink expensive whiskey while the hotel susurrates around you like an 1800s saloon.
As in all good cowboy movies, we finish this story sipping ales, resting our weary snow legs and spinning tales back at camp. Except, unlike Butch and Sundance, we’re in a cedar hot tub filled with salt-enriched, oxidised water with a horizon-filled view of jagged mountain peaks.
Durango Hot Springs. Photo: Supplied
Unlike the Japanese onsen tradition, Colorado’s soak culture is highly social. There’s also less nudity. The recently remodelled Durango Hot Springs and Spa has nailed the balance between wellness and being welcomed.
Groups mingle under the fading light as flickering Edison globes glint against the rising steam from 32 pools of varying temperatures. There are even two cold plunges for the brave. Food trucks offer pizza, spicy margaritas and Mexican fare, and the mountains stand stoic against the darkening sky.
Purgatory may not be heaven, but it’s a place that holds a special kind of magic. Dare I say it, Colorado’s wintertime Holy Grail?