Clay Dolan enjoying an Aspen powder day. Photo by Haily Dolan.

The Aspen Effect

By Cara Williams | Photography by Clay Dolan

One Ikon Pass, four mountains, and an après scene that redefines indulgence—Aspen is where adventure starts at first tracks and lingers long past the last toast.

Colorado has always felt close to home for me. My husband grew up on the Western Slope, and the Rocky Mountains often hover at the edge of our conversations—usually powderday stories told with a reverence that makes towns like Aspen sound more like legend than landscape. Of course, I knew of it long before I ever experienced it in person, its glitzy slopes serving as the backdrop in films like Aspen Extreme and even Dumb and Dumber—who can forget the quote, “A place where the beer flows like wine… I’m talking about a little place called Aspen.” I first travelled there in my twenties, working events like the X Games, sharing crowded rentals, riding the chair in the pre-dawn hours, and working long after darkness fell. Back then it was all grit and hustle: work hard, sleep when you could, ski as much as possible, and save just enough for après—then wake up and do it all over again.

Over the years, the town settled into memory—part lore, part ache, and part reminder of what it means to truly chase snow. So, when Aspen Snowmass invited me back, it felt like the right moment to return, not as the exhausted pseudo ski bum I once was, but with a whole new assignment. Aspen Snowmass has supported Escarpment Magazine for years, and this visit felt less like an introduction than a continuation—a chance to see the mountains with fresh eyes. If those early trips were about hustle, this one was about luxury. And this time the same Ikon Pass we use at Blue Mountain opened the door to all four of Aspen’s mountains—familiar plastic in my pocket, but a radically different playground beneath my skis.

Apex Tavern aprés, photo by Jamie Fletcher.

Instead of hunting for a couch to crash on, we checked into The Little Nell. This Five-Star, Five-Diamond hotel is the only true ski-in, ski-out hotel at the base of Ajax, the mountain that rises straight out of Aspen village. Named one of Travel + Leisure’s Top 10 Resort Hotels in its 2025 World’s Best Awards, The Nell is Aspen’s undisputed grande dame. From the moment we arrived, the concierge anticipated every detail before we even thought to ask. Boots? Warmed. Skis? Waiting at the gondola. Dinner? Booked at the perfect table. They’ll even switch out your gear mid-day if conditions change. In the morning, the Silver Queen Gondola is just steps away, and in the evening, après spills onto the Ajax Tavern patio—Champagne flutes clinking, the scent of truffle fries in the air.

We came in a rare window between the X Games and the FIS Freestyle World Cup, when the crowds receded and the town exhaled. Days dawned at –5°C, skies polished to bluebird perfection, and snow so perfect it squeaked underfoot. With Ajax, Snowmass, Highlands, and Buttermilk all accessible on the Ikon Pass (and a complimentary shuttle to each base), the hardest part was deciding where to start.

Aspen’s story as a ski town began in 1946, when a sleepy post-war village transformed into something truly amazing. The first runs were carved by veterans of the U.S. Army’s 10th Mountain Division alongside some of Europe’s finest mountaineers—men and women who brought both courage and vision to the Rockies. Ajax Mountain, aka Aspen Mountain, quickly earned a reputation for world-class ski racing, hosting national and international competitions through the 1950s and ’60s. That legacy still hums beneath your skis today.

From left: Editor Cara Williams and photographer Clay Dolan fuel up with breakfast at Bonnie’s. Right: Cara works it off carving Aspen’s famous chalky bumps.

Even today Ajax doesn’t ease you in—there are no green runs here, just a fast, steep playground for confident legs. The newest jewel is Hero’s, a 153-acre expansion of double-blacks, glades, and chutes that boosts Ajax’s skiable terrain by 20%. Locals still call it Pandora’s, and they ski it with the same swagger as someone holding a secret they don’t really want to share. On the lifts, conversations flitted between the day’s conditions and sightings of familiar faces—Aspen has long been a magnet for the famous, from Justin Bieber to Kevin Costner to the occasional fashion house staging a photo shoot at the base of the gondola. Yet for all its glamour, it remains, at its core, a ski town. A place where the snow (and sun) still dictates the rhythm of the day.

One morning, our group was treated to the mountain an hour before the public. Riding the gondola in the quiet of first light, we spilled onto untouched corduroy, free to carve arcs across groomers that felt minted just for us. It was the kind of start that makes the mountain feel like it belongs to you alone. By the time we slid into Bonnie’s for breakfast, the sun had crept onto the deck and the air was thick with enticing aromas of strudel and pancakes.

Perched mid-mountain, Bonnie’s is more than a restaurant— it’s part of Aspen’s cultural DNA. German ski racer Gretl Uhl and her husband Sepp built it in 1966, passing it to Bonnie Rayburn in 1980, who gave the spot her name and her nowlegendary white bean chili. Today, Brigitte Birrfelder keeps the tradition alive with the same rustic simplicity and Bavarian fare. Generations of skiers have thawed toes here, shared buckets of beers, and fuelled up before another lap. Sitting with coffee in hand (it was only 9:30am), it felt like a bridge between Aspen’s storied past and the day still unfolding (there would be beer).

Haily Dolan cruising the blues on Snowmass.

If you’re looking for adventure and adrenaline, Aspen Highlands is for the purists. This is the mountain where you come to test your mettle, and Highlands Bowl is the ultimate exam. It’s a 782-foot vertical climb from the top of the lift, and it’s all above treeline, with views that make you stop mid-step—not that you’d admit it. We had Butch, a local Enduro legend, as our guide. His scoring system is simple: +1 for every person you pass, –10 for everyone who passes you. I finished at –27, but the 1,400 vertical feet of chalky bliss waiting on the other side erased any ego bruising.

Snowmass, in contrast, is vast and sprawling—3,300 acres of variety. One minute it’s sunlit cruisers, the next it’s powder-filled bowls with no one else in sight. It’s the kind of mountain where you can ski bell-to-bell without repeating a run. Midday, skiers drift toward The Cabin’s Veuve Sun Club for an alpine toast, where flutes of Clicquot and sweeping views conspire to make the rest of the day feel optional.

And then there’s Buttermilk, Aspen’s most underestimated gem. Known worldwide as the stage for the X Games, it’s a freestyle playground with immaculate halfpipes and jumps. But it also hides some of the softest groomers and most sun-drenched laps in the valley—a reminder that skiing doesn’t have to be high stakes to be high joy.

The hike into Highlands Bowl is a 782-foot vertical climb above treeline, rewarded with 1,400 vertical feet of sustained pitch skiing.

In Aspen, skiing is only half the story. Après here is a cultural institution, and Cloud Nine Alpine Bistro on Highlands is infamous—a mid-mountain restaurant that transforms daily into a Champagne-soaked dance party that feels more Ibiza than Colorado. Picture ski boots on tables, bottles erupting like snowguns, the air thrumming with music and laughter. In the village, Ajax Tavern offers a more classic take: sharable plates, Aperol spritz poured without hesitation, and people-watching so captivating it could count as its own sport. Meanwhile, back at The Little Nell, après slows to a hum—perhaps a soak in the heated pool, an infrared therapy bed that melts the day from your legs, followed by an early dinner at Element 47, the Michelin Guide–recommended dining room where the sommelier might suggest a vintage you’ve never heard of but instantly fall for. It’s après refined—less spectacle, more soul.

We also spent a few nights at the Limelight Aspen, just down the street. Less opulent than The Nell, but still polished and perfectly placed, the Limelight offered a laid-back counterpoint to the grandeur. The rooms were airy, the lobby buzzed with skiers swapping stories over wood-fired pizza and local craft beer, and the whole vibe leaned more communal than couture. Best of all, everything in Aspen was within easy walking distance—the lifts, the restaurants, even the designer boutiques I pretended not to peek into. For a skier who wants comfort, convenience, and a touch of style without the full five-star fanfare, Limelight hits the sweet spot.

I’ve done Aspen both ways now: the scrappy ski-bum hustle and the five-star, first-tracks dream. Both are unforgettable. But this trip, sipping Champagne at 11,000 feet with skis still cooling on the rack, I finally understood Aspen’s true allure. It isn’t just the mountains, or the après, or the endless parade of beautiful people. It’s the way it fuses grit and glamour into a single alpine experience—one that lingers long after the last run is done. We came for the mountains. We stayed for the moments. And as we clicked out of our skis one last time, bubbles still fizzing on our lips, one thing was certain: Aspen is not just a destination—it’s an elevation. E