An easy slider in Colorado

Author: By Dan Leeth, Globe Correspondent

Date: SUNDAY, February 15, 1998

Page: M15

Section: Travel

Garbed in Thinsulate and Gore-Tex, we strut in and slug down rounds of Perrier, straight up. After fiercely bantering about quarterbacks and 401(k) options, our fractious pack swaggers back out to where the white and chrome steeds await. Grabbing handlebars, we swing onto the saddles and shove off for another cannonball run down the mountainside.

In the city, we might be middle-aged professionals, but here in the land of packed powder, we become Hell's Angels on Snowbikes.

Invented in the Alps, Snowbikes have finally slid to American slopes. Generically known as ``skibobs,'' the trademark-named contrivances look as if they were built of booty plundered from Schwinn and Rossignol.

Each vehicle features a squatty frame, which resembles the sting ray bikes of youth. Where a roadgoing machine has tires, the downhill slider sports a pair of stubby skis. Conventional handlebars turn the front runner while the back one trails in a fixed position. Powered by gravity, the bike has no motors, pedals, chains, or cables.

Snowbikers wear conventional ski boots equipped with runners, which float through the snow to act as training wheels. Combined with two fists gripping the handlebars and a pair of cheeks on the saddle, Snowbikers enjoy six stabilizing points of contact. At least that's what instructor Jerry Wood of Colorado's Silver Resort says.

Silver Creek is the first of what promises to be many North American ski areas to offer Snowbiking. The family-friendly operation lies near the Continental Divide, between the mega-resorts of Winter Park and Steamboat Springs. Accompanied by bravehearted friends, my wife and I drop by to test-drive the new sport.

For less than a day of skiing Vail, Silver Creek provides lifts, boots, bikes, and lessons. Jerry meets us outside the main lodge where Snowbikes are lined up like Harleys at a biker's bar. None are choppers.

``The Snowbikes come in several sizes,'' Jerry says, his voice idling with an easy rider, Arkansas drawl. ``It's important to find the right height.''

We find appropriate fits and mount the two-runnered beauties. Hunkered close to the ground, I feel like a hip Peter Fonda cruising on his low rider.

``You want to lock elbows and keep thumbs on top,'' Jerry tells us. ``Your feet stay in close unless you're stopping.''

I notice my buddy scrutinizing his bike. He looks puzzled.

``Where are the brakes?'' he asks.

``You stop as you do skiing,'' Jerry answers. ``You form a wedge with your foot runners and carve into the slope.''

We scoot our bikes to the top of a short, low-angled practice hill where Jerry demonstrates.

``The bike's runners have side-cut similar to downhill skis. To turn, push down on the handlebar and lean in the direction you want to go. Keep pressure on your heels, and don't tilt forward or you'll kiss the snow.''

Jerry leads down, and we follow timidly behind. Since nobody crashes, he decides we are ready to ride the main slopes.

We gang together at the top. Behind us poke the Indian Peaks and the crags of Rocky Mountain National Park. Ahead lies a choppy sea of hills and valleys bounded by snowcapped ridges. Immediately below, a pathway of glistening white beckons. My pal's wife, who thinks all bikers suffer an Evel Knievel death wish, stares down it with a terrified gaze.

``Before today, has anybody died doing this?'' she squeaks.

``We've had a few spills,'' Jerry admits, ``but so far the worst injury has been a sprained thumb. The bike is designed so that when it falls, you can't jab yourself with the handlebars.''

I was more concerned that if I slid into the front crossbar, I might start singing alto. I suppress the worry as Jerry continues instruction.

``You ride these as you would a motorcycle,'' he tells us. ``You lie with them in the turns.''

We practice the technique by making single bends across the slope. After showing that we can combine lefts and rights, Jerry turns us loose and we slither netherward, linking turns in a serpentine twist to the bottom.

``I am surprised how responsive these are,'' my wife bubbles. ``I was able to make short turns quicker than on skis.'' This praise comes from a woman who schusses chutes where Jack Kevorkian wouldn't send a client.

``How fast do these things go?'' she asks when we meet for another run.

``The inventor's son set a world record of 103 miles per hour,'' Jerry tells us. ``A few months later, he was clocked at 106 m.p.h. before falling and skidding sideways across the finish line.''

Although none of us plan to break a construction zone speed limit today, we do find velocity increasing with each descent. Turns come easier as we become accustomed to edging outside runners and unweighing inside ones. For those of us who ski, the technique seems intuitive.

``The biggest problem learning to downhill ski is trusting weight placed on the outside edges,'' Jerry says. ``We've had beginners try Snowbiking first. Because of the six-point stability, they quickly master weight transfer. When followed with ski lessons, novices learn much faster.''

In addition to the increased stability, we notice another difference from downhilling. As the hours slip past, we do not develop willow-kneed fatigue. Jerry tells us that because it's less taxing, Snowbiking can provide an activity for people who otherwise cannot enjoy a ski experience.

``We've had many riders with bad knees, and I've taken up kids who have cerebral palsy,'' he says. ``Yesterday I worked with a woman who was recovering from a stroke.''

We continue until the operator announces last lift. To console our disappointment, she allows one final run.

Our brace of bikers bands together on top. Resembling a gang of born-to-be-wild accountants, we pose on our motorless snow Hogs. The lift's monotonous drone provides a poor substitute for the burble of Harleys.

One by one, members peel off for the final blitz down. I linger, watching as they slide from sight. When the run below empties, I too push off. Like a racer qualifying for Indy, I decide to press the limit.

Shooting down faster than a Hell's Angel on a beer run, I scribble tight zigzags through the snowpack. Trees become evergreen blurs, and trail markers might be Burma Shave signs, for all I can tell.

It is fortunate there are no flying bugs in winter, because I'm grinning like the Cheshire grill of an old Buick. Fins of snow trail behind. Whooping, hollering, and wearing my ball cap backward. I drag-race maturity and shatter the sensibility barrier.

Silver Creek runs are short, and I soon coast to where the others await. Ripe with pride and pumped on adrenaline, I feel I am a blend of Marlon Brando and Jean-Claude Killy.

``Wow! If we had that on video,'' I shout, ``it would be `The Wild One' meets `Downhill Racer!' ''

``I think I would choose a different title,'' my unimpressed wife counters. ``At your age, it looked more like `Speed' meets `Dumb and Dumber.' ''

I smile, suspecting that Evel Knievel probably hears the same wisdom from his spouse.

Getting There

Silver Creek is 78 miles northwest of Denver. The resort lies a few miles off US Highway 40 between Fraser and Granby. Major airlines serve Denver, where cars may be rented. Home James Transportation (800-451-4844) provides shuttle service from Denver International Airport. Amtrak (800-872-7245) features daily trains to Granby from the Midwest and West Coast.

Accommodations

The Inn at Silver Creek (800-926-4386) offers basic hotel rooms, plus studios, lofts, and suites that include fireplaces, dining and living areas, wet bars, refrigerators, sinks, and microwaves. Prices start at $69 to $89 during ski season.

The Mountainside at Silver Creek (970-887-2571) features one- and two-bedroom condominiums with ski-in/ski-out access near the base of the ski area. Prices start at $145 to $220 during ski season.

Silver Creek Reservation and Travel (800-618-7669) provides a central reservation service for these and other properties.

The area

By Colorado standards, Silver Creek is petite. It has three chairlifts accessing two 9,000-foot mountains. A third of the terrain ranks a ``beginner'' rating, and another half of the runs receives an ``intermediate'' label. With all 33 trails emptying into one central basin, no one gets lost. Only the East Mountain is available for snowbiking.

Prices

Silver Creek charges first-time snowbikers $50 for a full-day lift ticket, equipment rental, and lesson. The price drops to $45 without the lesson. Participants should dress as they would for skiing, with warm clothes and gloves.

There are no age restrictions for snowbiking, but riders must be at least 4 feet 8 to fit properly on the snowbikes.

Full-day, skiing-only lift tickets run $32 for adults, $28 for ages 13-17, and $15 for ages 6-12. Half-day adult and teenage lift tickets cost $25. Multiday discounts are available.

Silver Creek offers groomed cross-country trails, with an all-day pass costing $8. Evening tubing (sliding down a ski slope in an inner tube) is also available for $8 per hour.

Nearby ski areas

Silver Creek can provide a base for skiing a number of Colorado's best ski areas. Winter Park is 17 miles away, and shuttle service can be obtained from Silver Creek. Vail, Beaver Creek, Breckenridge, Keystone, Arapaho Basin, Copper Mountain, and Steamboat all lie within reasonable driving distance.

For more information

Call the Silver Creek Resort at 800-754-7458.