The Hunt for the Minturn Mile

Anyone who has visited the Vail area for skiing has probably heard of this run. Many will tell you they know someone who knows where it is. Some may even tell you they found it one day by mistake. And a very few claim to have even shredded the sickest gnar on it.

I'm talking about the legendary — perhaps mythical – Minturn Mile.

After receiving countless inquiries to uncover the mystery of the Minturn Mile, the Official Mtns Co Expeditionary Team of The Americas set off to once and for all settle the debate: Does the Minturn Mile actually exist?

Armed with only Skis, Snowboards, some intelligence gathered from long-time Vail locals, scarcely a few beers per person and a flask of 10th Mountain Whiskey (for emergency sustenance purposes), the team set out on Wednesday, March 4 the first clear day following 6 days of on-and-off snow storms. What follows is an exclusive account of our expedition.

We started out with a shred of intel that the Minturn Mile started from within Vail Mountain, ended in Minturn and therefore must lie somewhere in between.

So we got to the point on Vail Mountain that seemed closest to the town of Minturn. Way out on the western edge of the Vail Ski Resort boundaries, we felt like we were exploring completely uncharted territory.

As we were surveying the area looking for some sign of where to go next, we stumbled to a path we had never seen before on any map. It led up to the top of some tall peak that was so far away, it was hard to fathom how long it would take us to get to the top. We knew this was our only hope, and fifteen minutes later we were at the top. Looking back down at the distant resort lift, we must have hiked like... I don't know.... 50 miles or something.

At the peak of this mountain, we stood now at the foot of a grand gateway. Indeed, it was intimidating. Inscribed on the doors read an ancient transcription, dating probably back to the 80's. It read, "Thou Who Dare Pass Through this Gate Shall Die a Certain Death. Choose Your Destiny" or something like that. Needless to say, we had come too far. We had to cross that gate. Not with the hope of survival, but on the promise of glory!

But despite our lofty aspirations, we still had no idea where we were, and how far we must be from the Minturn Mile. Crossing through the gate, there was no guarantee that the Minturn Mile would be on the other side. We did, however, come to an open glade, with a decent pitch, and decided we had to ski it. Here, we put our skis back on and descended towards the tree line through 12 or more inches of fresh powder. Along the way, we tried our best to identify some indicator of where the Minturn Mile must be, but were having too much fun on whatever run we were on to pay close attention.

Before long, we were in dense pine trees, making sharp turns in deep powder. Staying together as a group was a trick. By this time, we were more concerned with enjoying this gift of a beautiful powder run than trying to actually find where the Minturn Mile was.Wherever we were, the snow was amazing and we all had fresh tracks on amazing lines. Finally, after an amazing run, the forrest opened up and we came to a deep valley, with a mostly frozen stream. Famished and out of breath, we stopped alongside the the stream to take a rest... and cracked open a beer for energy.

At this point we had nearly given up on ever finding where the elusive Minturn Mile. We sat and discussed possible plans of action. But at this point, we were worried about ever making it out from our current location, let alone managing to somehow navigate to the Minturn Mile. We decided to ski downstream, hoping that the stream might lead us to civilization. There even appeared to be a well worn trail in the snow along the bank of the stream, probably made by others who had failed to find the Mile. We skied and snowboarded down tight terrain, very steep and narrow at times. Eventually we made it to the end of this path, and amazingly we found civilization. A few houses let us know that we had made it back to some small town, though we are still not sure if this town even had a name.

We took our skis and snowboards off, and walked down a long street to what looked like the center of this little hamlet. It took us nearly 10 minutes before we crossed an establishment serving nourishment. The words "Saloon" stood high above us, promising refreshment and sustenance. Tired and in need of rehydration, we stumbled into the Saloon for pitchers full of margaritas. Defeated by the search for the Minturn Mile, we were just happy to be alive and in a bar. We were ultimately disappointed in being unsuccessful, but we are determined to try our luck again... perhaps in another year.

On the bright side, we did find an awesome backcountry run.