Exploring Aspen

Aspen and Vail have long vied for tourism dollars during the ever-lucrative ski season and the increasingly popular summer season. Each has a distinct sense of place, with unique “personalities” that attract different crowds. Aspen is more liberal and glitzier than Vail—the Aspen FilmFest draws celebrities and status-seekers comb the outposts of tony international boutiques. Closer to the “front range” of the Rocky Mountains, Aspen draws more Denver residents and history buffs. The mountains here have an immediacy; one local described Aspen as “a neighborhood with a mountain in the middle.”

Hotel Jerome

It’s just before 10 a.m. and a small crowd has momentarily abandoned their huevos rancheros and lemon soufflé pancakes to gather by the outdoor pool. We’re straining to see a small brown bear in the top of an evergreen. At the Hotel Jerome in downtown Aspen these sighting are evidently not uncommon. Though it’s a bit early for the bear to have headed down from the mountain. It only mid-August, but staffers say the chilly weather is the reason the animals have sought lower elevations while they forage.

Jerome B. Wheeler is the father of Aspen. During the height of Colorado’s silver boom, he co-owned Macy’s, constructed the Wheeler Opera House and built the Hotel Jerome, ushering in cosmopolitan civility to a once-raucous mining town. Today the hotel, which is listed on the National Register of Historic Places, achieves a feat few historic properties do: it’s fresh and flooded with light, amid oak paneling and antique light fixtures.

And you know you’re in the West: the tall, handsome doormen wear black cowboy hats with rakish flair. The 94 elegant and spacious rooms maintain a Victorian flavor, but feature double-basin marble vanities, custom-made wallpaper and flat screen TVs. Centrally located, the hotel’s Library is a popular watering hole (I liked the frothy sidecar) and the J-Bar serves great casual fare (try the pigs in a blanket with plump, house made applewood smoked sausage).

I am getting up close and personal with Aspen Mountain, courtesy of the Aspen Center for Environmental Studies. During the summer, naturalists lead hour-long walks. It’s a sparkling day. After riding the gondola up to the top of the windy mountain, I join a small group. During our hike, we learn a handy, alliterative fauna tidbit: the needles of fir trees are fragrant and flat, while spruce needles are square.

Afterwards, at the Ajax Tavern at the Little Nell at the base of the gondola, I join a throng of sun worshippers under a cloudless cobalt sky for chicken liver pate with peach preserves, truffle fries with parmiggiano reggiano, gazpacho studded with Alaskan king crab and Colorado lamb Bolognese. Lunch is a hearty affair in the aptly named Roaring Fork Valley, though I’ve hardly burned any calories.

Vail

Vail Village is a European-style pedestrian town modeled after Austrian burgs, with chalet-influenced architecture. With its wholesome, Old World charm and conservative values, Vail attracts generation after generation of families drawn to the skiing in season and the mountain biking, fly fishing and whitewater rafting the rest of the year. The shops here are individually owned. Former President Gerald Ford, an avid skier, has an amphitheater named after him where the symphony plays.

The Lodge

The Lodge at Vail was the town’s first hotel, built in 1962 at the base of America’s largest ski resort. One hundred and sixty five rooms and suites are scattered between buildings with views of the 10,500 foot high Vail Mountain. My handsome suite has heated marble floors in the enormous bathroom, a fireplace in sitting area and a sleigh bed. Turn-down service includes a packet of gummy bears.

It’s a picture postcard day. After a scrumptious lunch of pasta with lobster and shrimp at Up the Creek overlooking Gore Creek, I hit the Lodge’s newly refurbished spa, decorated with warm sandstone, river rocks and knotty alderwood. Sunny gives me a deep tissue massage and numerous tips on managing pain in my hips and glutes. No wonder this place is booked solid après-ski.

The Lodge’s restaurant, Wildflower, serves New American cuisine in a dining room with starched white linen tablecloths though most patrons are in jeans—Vail is a casual town. Waiter Nicholas provides impeccable service as the kitchen turns out a series of smashing seasonal dishes: foie gras and duck rillet crostini with grilled local peaches and burnt honey balsamic; wild mushroom and goat cheese tart; lobster gazpacho; red and golden watermelon tartar with radishes and a soy gelee that has the appearance and texture of tiny caviar; and roasted marinated Colorado rack of lamb with golden raisins and pine nut couscous. Nicholas takes great pride in pairing each course with wine. I tumble into bed, sated.

As I peddle through town, admiring the Sawatch Range, I ponder Vail’s building boom. Will it change the character of the town? Perhaps. Then again, a new Ritz-Carlton could rival the St. Regis in Aspen. And really, we all benefit from the friendly competition of Colardo’s pemier resort towns.