Winter has really arrived. All the region's snow sliding resorts are reporting significant snowfall, with New Mexico mountains picking up the lion's share compared to Colorado ranges-a rare and welcome event.

Leading the charge is Taos Ski Valley, with 36 inches of new snow — as of Wednesday morning. It now has a base of 51 inches and is opening lots of new terrain. On Friday at TSV, catch the screening of a new film from Teton Gravity Research, "Under the Influence" at the Martini Tree. Admission is $5. On Saturday, from 4:30-7 p.m., the resort hosts the annual Brewmaster Festival, with some 25 microbrewers serving up the suds. Admission is $20.

Not far behind is Ski Santa Fe, which picked up 23 inches and now has a base of 37 inches. Some 85 percent of the lower mountain is open. Angel Fire picked up 23 inches and now has a base of 35 inches. It begins daily ops on Friday.

Pajarito picked up 17 inches and will be opening this Saturday with a 40 inch base. The Spruce, Beginner, Aspen and Mother lifts will roll, with the Town Site lift to follow within a few days. Sandia Peak is tentatively set to open on Friday, having picked up 7 inches (as of Tuesday morning), giving it a base of 20 inches.

I wish it had all come a few days earlier. Last Sunday I rolled up to Taos for my first day of the season, and while there were a few new inches on the ground and more falling, most of it was blowing sideways. Gusts at the top of Chair One were clocked at 60 to 70 mph, and drifts were covering catwalks. Management decided the conditions were too dicey to run the summit chairs, so I found myself back on Strawberry Hill.

This is the resort's beginner section at the bottom of the mountain, and where I spent my second day of skiing ever, 46-years ago. It was good to stretch the ski muscles and once again feel the G-forces as I arched into some a few big giant slalom turns and quick slalom cuts on a surprisingly steep pitch at its top. What is it about skiing—or snow boarding, I assume—that is so satisfying to the soul and the body?

I cruised over the slope looking for the stream bed that used to wander through the beginner slope, but it must be in a culvert now, because the concave pits that once marked its course are gone. I remember skiing into one of these terrain traps as a kid and getting stuck. My sisters, Brett and Gretchen, came by several times and kindly offered to help me out, but proud and stubborn cuss that I was, I refused their offer. Instead I attacked the pit's sides over and over, almost getting to the top a number of times—poles flailing and feet shuffling madly — only to slide back down and fall over.

At last I was covered stem to stern in snow, perspiring from exertion and tuckered out. A woman stopped and asked if I needed help. I said yes, and she proceeded to instruct me how to turn my skis across the slope and slowly step up sideways a few inches at a time. Thus I was finally freed from the infernal hole.

I look back and realize I learned a lesson there-the most direct way out of a problem is not always the surest way; that sometimes one must tackle a difficult situation obliquely, and that sheer determination and effort does not always carry the day.

All this came back to me as I stood in the line to board the chair for the one-minute skiing descent. I did this for a few hours, meeting all kinds of little tykes and moms. It was surprisingly fun, but I finally decided I'd had enough and headed home to watch football. Some days you eat the mountain and some days it eats you....

It was great to be back at TSV, though. There is no other true alpine community in New Mexico — well, Red River might qualify-and I never get enough of the view up the well-named Hondo (Deep) Valley to the summit of nearby Wheeler Peak, the state's tallest mountain. Great plumes of snow were tailing off its summit and rolling across the sky in boiling formations. The crystal clear waters of the tiny Rio Hondo bubbled and gurgled in their rocky bed beneath the footbridge as clusters of skiers and snowboarders leaned into the cold wind, headed indoors or back to their cars.

Every view brought back a lifetime of memories: the balcony overlooking the base chair where the late, great Ernie Blake used to hold court; the hill we used to sled on, which took us right through the Thunderbird Lodge parking lot; the crackling flames and precious warmth of the copper-capped Hotel St. Bernard fireplace-perhaps the very beating heart of this special place.


Daniel Gibson can be reached at dbgibson@newmexico.com.