The smell of fresh focaccia and the crackle of a late afternoon fire greets us as we knock snow off our ski boots and wander through the tall wooden entryway of Red Mountain Alpine Lodge, CO. I follow my nose, and skate across hardwood floors in my ski socks, plopping down in front of the long dining room table with a bowl of pumpkin soup and a hunk of olive oil-glazed bread; I’m not sure if there’s anything better on the planet after a chilly day of powder skiing. 

The sun hangs low in the December sky, illuminating the glowing hills outside the tall, floor-to-ceiling windows. Colorado is known for its variety of ski-accessed backcountry huts. But the “huts” on Red Mountain Pass are something else entirely. Specifically Red Mountain Alpine Lodge (RMAL), which bypasses the term “hut” altogether and stands proudly as a palatial lodge tucked away in the woods right off Highway 550. 

A light start to the season is saved by a 10” storm that rolls in the night before we drive up from Ouray, blanketing the Red Mountain Group (the iconic peaks that tower over the lodge) with a fresh coat of paint. Since we’re sleeping at 11,000 feet, access is as easy as it gets. In good weather, the 13,000-foot peaks put steep alpine terrain at an arm’s reach. 

Wind and a touchy snowpack have us starting out with some gladed terrain above the lodge, and in just 30 minutes we’re at the top of a series of untouched alleys, perfectly spaced trees to bob and weave between, finding our own lines before the drainage naturally pulls our group back together at the bottom. The low-hanging clouds pull back a bit, and we follow our guide, International Federation of Mountain Guides Associations (IFMGA) certified Pat Ormond, up the rolling hills and over to the saddle behind Red #3, our eyes set on a wide open bowl that flows towards Silverton Mountain on the other side of the pass. 

Up, up, up. The clouds part to let us sneak up into the alpine. Photo: Alex Cernichiari

The hut (and lodge) scene on Red Mountain Pass is some of the most robust in the country right now, due in large part to old mining claims that have allowed owners to build lodges on private land. The OPUS Hut, Thelma Hut and Hayden Hut are a few of the other huts that offer full services on Red Mountain Pass, though none are quite as expansive as RMAL. Unlike Europe or Canada, self-service huts are more often the norm in the States; in maybe a dozen yurt and hut trips I’ve been on with friends, we’ve hauled in all our food for the week, taking turns cooking for each other in cramped, cozy (and a bit primitive) kitchens. 

The huts on Red Mountain Pass take more influence from the full-service alpine luxury huts in the Alps, where aprés soup, a cocktail, and a four-course dinner are the expectation after a day of skiing. There’s no hauling Ziplocs packed with dry oats or raw egg-filled Nalgene bottles. And there’s certainly no need to brave the frosty night air for a midnight pee. I’ve found it to be a slippery slope; once you get used to a hot bowl of soup and daily focaccia, it’s hard to swing back the other way. 

Flurries stack up towards the end of the day, filling in our tracks to wipe the slate clean for tomorrow. We ski late into the day because the conditions are great and there’s no reason not to. When your sleeping quarters are just a 15-minute skin away, it’s pretty darn glorious to relish in the rarity of staying out until the light starts to shift. Dimming light on the horizon is usually a sign that means we’ve been out too long, but in an alpine hut, it just means that it’s time to start listening for the dinner bell. 

A cozy place to recap a snowy day. Photo: Alex Cernichiari