It was February of 1997 when I had my first and only encounter with the Screamin' Snowman. It was a glorious winter morning. Though the air was a crisp 25 degrees, the strong mountain sun made it feel like 60! And as I walked away from my van at the Jenny Creek Trailhead, I foolishly left behind most of my emergency clothing and gear. The crystal blue skies told nothing of the nasty conditions that would blow in that afternoon.

I had been climbing for several hours and had exhausted most of my food when I finally broke through the trees. I was excited to finally get above treeline and gaze at the familiar Indian Peaks ridgeline in wintertime, but my excitement was short-lived. The snow covered Continental Divide was buried beneath a wall of clouds, but I was more concerned with the fierce wind which had created near white-out conditions.

It was apparent that some very bad weather was pushing in, so I immediately turned back and began retracing my footsteps through the forest. Within minutes, however, the wind had completely erased my tracks and by one o'clock the storm had engulfed me.

I wandered aimlessly for hours, growing more and more fatigued - and with no food or water, I was finally forced to sit down. The warm morning sun had set hours before, and like the snow, the temperature continued to drop.

I was too tired to walk, and try as I might, I could not keep my eyes open. Just as my lids closed for what I could only believe would be the final time, I heard a Yeti-like shriek in the distance. At any other time, I would have bolted up and run for cover, but instead I just drifted off to sleep.

When I awoke, I was warm all over. I must be dead, I thought - but no, I was in the back of my van - covered in a blanket. It was still dark, but the snow had stopped falling and a million stars filled the sky. I stepped out of my van to look for any clues that might tell me how I had gotten back to safety. All I could find was a very unusual set of tracks that had plowed through the snow.

Then I heard it again! The shriek! I hopped into my van and drove back to Boulder.

The next day, my research began - and what I discovered was even more shocking than my experience on the mountain. I discovered that the Native Americans who first inhabited the mountains above Boulder told tales of a band of evil snow-people who lived in the forest above Eldora.

The blood curdling scream of the snow-people was later documented by the first miners who settled the town of Nederland. The miners reported finding their mines destroyed each morning after hearing the scream of the snowman. They reported finding no footprints in the snow - in fact, the only clues left behind were curious paths plowed through the snow leading back into the forest.

Even the burliest mountain men were afraid to track the fearsome beast, and as yet the Screamin' Snowman has never been captured.

Encounters with the Screamin' Snowman tapered off following the winter of 1920, and his legend was virtually forgotten in the decades since. Why he chose to come to my rescue is still a mystery.

Come join us for a 5K or 10K run through the hills above Eldora as we search for the elusive Screamin' Snowman. You will be challenged by a healthy mix of singletrack, groomed trails, and fresh powder as you explore the habitat of the most feared winter creature in North America!