Finding powder and snowy adventures at Purgatory Ski Resort

Skiers prepare for a powder-filled run with Purgatory Snowcat Adventures. Pam LeBlanc photo

I feel like I’m standing inside a life-sized snow globe.  

From the edge of an old logging road in the San Juan National Forest, a carpet of white rolls out in all directions. Fat, fluffy flakes sift from the sky, stacking up on pine boughs. Everything around me is frosted in vanilla. 

I check the shovel that’s strapped to my back, take a deep breath, and hop off a 3-foot ledge into a sea of powder. It swallows me to my waist. 

I’ve never skied in so much fresh powder and know instantly I’m forever spoiled. From now on, all ski days will be measured against this one with Purgatory Snowcat Adventures. 

I bound through the fluff like a hound dog. It’s exhausting – powder may be soft and delicious, but it requires lots of energy to navigate. When I stop midway down to snap some pictures, one ski pops off and disappears beneath the surface. I fish around and find it, then struggle a few minutes to get it back on.  

A snowboarder blasts through powder during a trip with Purgatory Snowcat Adventures in March 2023. Pam LeBlanc photo

Soon, though, I’m back in action, bounding like a puppy through powder so deep I can’t feel the bottom. It’s surreal, like running through shaving cream.  

Forward motion slows. Endorphins pump.  

And when I reach the bottom, I don’t have to line up for a chairlift to carry me up the mountain. The snowcat awaits, its heated cab beckoning, to whisk me to the next run. 

Here, not far from Purgatory, it’s pure heaven. 

First, a safety check

My day began with an 8 a.m. briefing at the base of Purgatory Ski Resort, located 45 minutes north of Durango. 

It had been snowing since I arrived in southwestern Colorado on a cold, cloudy Thursday in late February. With 20 new inches of snow on the ground and more on the way, avalanches would be a real danger in the backcountry. 

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Carly Holbrook skis down a snowy run in the San Juan Mountains in March 2023. Pam LeBlanc photo

 Karl Kecman, who has been guiding for Purgatory Snowcat Adventures since 2018, distributed avalanche beacons to all 10 skiers and snowboarders in our group. We snapped them on under our jackets. The devices, each the size of an ice cream sandwich, ping an alert in case of an avalanche, helping rescuers find victims beneath the snow. We tested them – twice.  

Kecman also warned us about tree wells, which can collapse around the base of pines, slurping up skiers who get too close. (Skiers have died this way.) The risk is especially high around smaller trees with low branches. Stumps and downed limbs hiding just beneath the snow create potential hazards, too. 

“If you see something that looks like a nice, deep, inviting pillow, there might be something beneath the surface you can’t see,” Kecman told us. “Don’t come in ‘full send hot sauce.’” 

I made a mental note. There would be no hot sauce on the menu for me today.  

Catching a ride with Purgatory Snowcat Adventures

Purgatory Snowcat Adventures operates in 35,000 acres of national forest outside Purgatory Ski Resort.  

It’s not cheap. A day on the cat will set you back $600 a person –– but you’ll get an experience utterly different from skiing the maintained runs of a resort. 

We snap into our skis and shuffle to a ski lift, which whisks us up the mountain. From there, we ski down a way and meet the snowcat, piloted by a long-haired guy who goes by the nickname “Friday.” 

We pile into the cab, which is heated and equipped with padded bench seats. It takes 30 minutes to get to the first drop zone.  

There, Kecman explains that he and another guide will set tracks, marking the outer boundaries of where we should ski. We’re told to stay between those lines, where snow is less likely to slide.   

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“We’re not concerned about slides in most of our terrain,” he says. “We’re more worried about winds and where it’s affecting the snow.” 

Because it’s snowing so hard, we’ll be sticking to the trees in the Cascade Creek area, where visibility is better. It’s also warmer, since the trees provide a shield from the wind that’s blasting across the mountain. 

The powder is cold, light, and inviting. 

Waist-deep powder

The snow was waist deep. Pam LeBlanc photo

I’m skiing on the widest skis I’ve ever worn. It’s like I’ve got diving boards attached to my feet. But those wide skis help me float down the mountain. 

Most of the other skiers in our group are more experienced than me – I’m a Texan, after all, and only get to ski once or twice a season. My ski style is more functional than stylish, but I manage to keep up with the group. 

After four long runs, we break for lunch (sandwiches, chips and chocolate, eaten in the heated cab of the cat), then head back up for more skiing. 

As the snow keeps falling, conditions get better and better.  

Then, on the sixth run, I tip over and wallow in the snow for a few minutes. 

I sit the last run out, holed up in the snowcat with a heater blowing warm air down my neck and a smile spread across my face. My legs are pudding and my toes are popsicles, but I couldn’t be happier.