Schnip's Trips: Copper Mountain
The story of the most effort I've ever gone to for a single beer + peripheral tastings and an overnight in Leadville
It all started with an invite to get a beer. On a snowy hill. Far from home.
A comms person from Copper Mountain reached out to clue me into a limited-edition Odell Brewing Co. beer created in collaboration with Copper to celebrate the resort’s newly upgraded, high-speed Timberline Express lift, nicknamed “T-Rex”, which now carries six instead of four riders. Odell created the Thunder Lizard Hoppy Ale to exclusively be sold at the T-Rex Grill, adjacent to the lift. Meaning if you want it, you’ve gotta get to Copper for a day and ski down to it. They were offering me a lift-ticket to check it out.
Only hiccup? I hadn’t skied in more than 30 years, and wasn’t confident that on day-one back on skis I would even be ready to tackle the green hills to reach T-Rex. But what the hell? I like a challenge, and adventure and a hoppy beer. Let’s do it!
Copper graciously comped me another pair of lift-tickets by request, so that my partner’s daughter and father could accompany me as my coaches. They are Epic Pass holders who regularly ski the mountains included on that resort pass, so they were excited to check out Copper as new territory. Even if that meant patiently babysitting me for the first half of the day and guiding me down the mountain, gently correcting my many, many mistakes. This being a food and drink newsletter and not a sports mag, I won’t bore you with the play-by-play of me relearning to ski. (I only fell a couple times, and not bad at all.) Thankfully muscle memory did what it does. And other activities I do regularly like climbing gave me the necessary core strength and balance to compensate as needed while I bled precious energy into the fresh powder via frequent poor form. But hey — within a few hours I was ready to venture to that beer. And frankly, by then, my nerves were ready for it.
We dropped skis outside the T-Rex and clomped up its deck stairs past dozens of people sunning themselves in lounge chairs as if at the beach. (Clarifying: they had clothes on.) We paid for our captively priced $12 brats, $13 burger and $9 side of big fries (nice seasoning, yo!). I was grateful to Copper for the free beer coupon they’d sent me with, saving me $12 on the 16-ounce Thunder Lizard. Like many around us, we were just happy for hot food and a respite with a craft beer in hand; concession-level food is what we expected and we weren’t disappointed. This is just a cool place to eat.
As I popped the Thunder Lizard’s can top I paused to appreciate the significance of the moment, realizing it’s the whole reason I’m here, two-plus hours drive from home and half way up a mountain. What seasoned skiers would sip with little regard but for the fine flavor, I’m now sipping as if it’s the reward for the last few hours of courage — forcing myself to point the skis down the mountain, managing my speed and not thinking about my past injuries (a broken leg in 2012) and the what-if’s if I screwed up and went tumbling.
Just as water tastes better when you’re really parched and wine better when you’re with friends, and so on, the Thunder Lizard tasted outsized delicious to me because of all the effort I went to to get it in my hand. I mean, yeah, Odell makes terrific beers generally and is one of Colorado’s stalwart brands, but this beer was super damn good and crushable at this moment (at only 5-percent ABV), with mild bitterness, light breadiness and faintly juicy citrus, but nothing bordering the dankness one might expect tied to ski culture.
I know many of you are skiers far beyond my current ability level, so this journey for this beer would be less exhilarating for you. Still, if it’s an excuse to get to Copper and maybe collect an exclusive can for a display shelf in your beer cave (I kept mine) then you have your marching… er, um, skiing orders.
Other bites and sips:
Copper has a lot of dining/drinking options, but limited on time and with another mission in mind (Thunder Lizard!) we had to make choices. We dined slope-side in Center Village for convenience. From samplings at Sawmill Pizza and Taphouse, I recommend the Liberty pizza dressed in garlic oil (no tomato sauce) and topped with spinach, a mozzarella cap, ricotta dollops and pesto and Calabrian chile-honey drizzles. The crust is airy and chewy, softened in the interior by the garlic oil it has absorbed, while the honey and ricotta touches lend the pie a lovely sweetness, countered just a touch by the herbaceous pesto and chile spice. Good ’za! Pair it with the surprisingly good Insalata Mista for fresh counterpoint: carrots, cukes, tomatoes and croutons in a bright and snappy basil-pistachio vinaigrette.
Start the morning at Camp Hale Coffee where the on-resort Copper Bake Shop bakes a fine pastry array, including fantastically fluffy and buttery croissants. Craft coffee hails from Boulder-based Ozo Coffee. We get excellent latte drinks made with Ozo’s medium-roast, organic Isabelle espresso blend (of Peruvian, Honduran and Guatemalan origins). I return later in the day for a true macchiato for myself and a raspberry mocha for the kiddo (which I of course steal sips from because damn it’s good).
Other options recommended by my media contact that we didn’t make it to: Downhill Duke’s, Ten Mile Tavern, Jack’s Slopeside Grill and JJ’s Rocky Mountain Tavern — all in the villages. And on-mountain (for my next grand adventure someday), find Aerie (with fancy Forage & Feast inside) and Flyer’s. All dining links here.
Elsewhere in the area (where we slept):
We’re fond of Leadville, a half-an-hour or so’s drive south from Copper. The lodging prices there are much more friendly than in Frisco, which is only a 10-minute drive to the north from the mountain. Plus, in recent Leadville visits we’ve enjoyed cool spots like Zero Day Coffee and Two Mile Brewing.
Seeking some new bites and sips to broaden our horizon, we hit a few new-to-us spots. I promise we weren’t on a pizza kick and rarely eat it on back-to-back days, but the raving reviews for High Mountain Pies got our attention and we felt compelled to duck in. I’m beyond glad we did.
I don’t say this lightly or superlatively, but I can’t think of more sincere and heartfelt service I’ve received anywhere, ever. Like, stunningly good customer rapport and impeccably timed check-ins and everything. From the register to the table and our departure after buying some merch, staffers went out of their way to be informative and friendly, and not in an obsequious way. Damn these are the nicest dudes ever!
When we came to the counter to order, they even made it known they’re happy to do split-pies and make half-’n-half pizzas — whereas at most places you expect someone to moan and groan and potentially decline the request. All we asked for was cheese on only one half because Lauren is weird and doesn’t like cheese if I haven’t written about that by now. (It’s a running joke, as you can imagine.)
Anyway the Road Runner pie has a pesto base and gets a mozzarella melt then a generous topping of chicken, squash, red beans and hominy (called posole on the menu). We hadn’t ever seen a pizza dressed like that and had to try it, having no regrets after we dove in to find a very complementary flavor profile. The Three Sisters combo of squash, beans and corn of course hearkens to Mesoamerica and history tells us it works. Pesto and chicken lend a bit of an Italian fusion but it all works beautifully, and the house dough sports an awesome crunchy crust and firm dough chew.
We get a couple of big, fresh, organic greens salads, opting to add smoked trout to one, pairing it with a sesame vinaigrette. They (and the pizza) remind me of Poor Richard’s in all the best ways, with a real simple, homemade approach that just feels wholesome in an almost sentimental way. The kiddo gets a giant $4 brownie for dessert and we all pick from it gleefully. I watch the back-of-house staff laughing and joking around with one another in the open kitchen, looking like well-treated and happy employees. One member (looking the part of an affable mountain pirate) comes out at one point to ask how we liked everything, with genuine interest. I ask how long he’s been there and he says only a year of the place’s 20-plus-year history. I commend the impeccable service and ask if the owners are as cool as I imagine they must be. He says something about quantum energy or quantum levels and I don’t fully understand it but I’m also pretty sure it explains everything I immediately love about this place.
In the morning we hit up two spots: Before & After and City on a Hill Coffee & Espresso. The latter formerly had a sipping spot out on Highway 24 as you’re leaving town (which is now a production site for them), and they still have a location in Cañon City, but for the past decade they’ve been anchored right on Harrison Avenue (Leadville’s main drag). They roast their own beans and make a great cup of coffee.
I love that they do a $2 self-serve cup of drip (with $1 refills) in the back, with an honor box so you can skip the busy front counter. Brilliant idea — not sure if it only works in a small town. It’s stocked with creamer and oat milk plus cinnamon and honey, as well as dark, medium and decaf options. The artist who chalked the beautiful mountain-scape near the display of retail beans happens to be sitting up front sketching in a notebook, lending a charming now-ness to the moment. I love reading all the flyers on the entryway bulletin board, showing robust community engagement for the area — something big cities only do on Facebook event pages, it seems. That’s not the same as tactilely perusing flyers, which feel old-school cool. There’s an upcoming film fest, seed swap, werewolf full moon ski party, zero waste “crafternoon” and outdoor equity summit. We depart feeling very neighborly, even as outsiders.
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At Before & After there’s a different type bulletin board: a gratitude board of neon colored post-it notes that extends across the whole front seating area in the window. It’s pretty to look at, and the whole space is really chic design wise. There’s even two-seater porch swings wrapped with string lights across one wall. We learn that the spot opened in 2020 and is owned by the same folks who run the Treeline Kitchen across the street, which we haven’t been to. This used to be a lounge to grab a drink while waiting for reservation slots to open at Treeline, we’re told, but it started serving coffee and pastries and breakfast items until 2 p.m., turning to booze and limited bar bites from noon to close.
We nab a serviceable chorizo breakfast burrito with a loose house green chile, mildly spicy but flavorful. And a pan au chocolate that just came out of the oven as we reach the register, so we feel like we have to get it. It’s not as delicate and proficient as the pastry we experienced the morning prior on Copper Mountain, but it’s hard not to like buttery dough and a thick vein of dark chocolate regardless. We depart for home, forgetting to leave our own sticky notes behind, grateful for the whole trip’s adventure— mainly me not destroying my body (too much) on the slopes re-learning to ski. (And how ’bout that beer?)
