Report from Thursday, October 15, 2026
On a “normal” year, Penitentes Park would have closed ages ago. But this is no normal year.
When I got off the bus in Puente del Inca I was delighted to find a decent snowpack outside of Freeski Cuyo owner Bruno’s house, located at 2,300 meters in elevation. It’s the middle of October and Mendoza was borderline shorts and t-shirt weather when I left there earlier that day. As I walked up to his house that was an old train station building converted into a sweet mountain hut-vibes casita, Bruno was up on a long ladder next to a telephone pole cutting a faulty power line with a machine saw, glasses on, sparks flying. He graciously took me under his wing, gave me a place to stay, food to eat, and, to my surprise, I even got to practice my Polish with him because his lady and daughter are Polish and he speaks the language fluently. We were off to a good start.
The next day was pure magic.
Sunshine and blue skies with not a single drop of wind ensued as we drank maté outside Freeski Cuyo’s ski school at the resort, enjoying the slow late-season pace and taking in the beautiful spring weather. One by one members of the community piled in the picnic table to say hello, give a hug, and drink some maté and catch up. GoPro Line of the Winter winner Adrià Millan Pla even popped by to say hi.
Then we assembled our crew for a trip up on an aging but sturdy snowcat from Penitentes Park, the only ski resort still open for skiing and riding in Argentina this season:
- Cedric, a talented French snowboarder fully committed to the ski bum lifestyle
- Ezequel, snowkiter, snowboarder, laid-back tactical mountain operator
- Javie, the charismatic stoke-lord snowboarder
- Bruno, fearless leader of Freeski Cuyo and basically the kind-hearted mayor of Penitentes
- And yours truly, Polish-American skier guy on an extended adventure that led me to this incredible zone in the Central Andes.
We took the old-school diesel-powered 2-seat chair up the mountain and then cruised over to the snowcat at the edge of the resort. It huffed and puffed and creaked and whirred and toiled laboriously up a super steep track on the backside of the resort, taking us deep into the backcountry. I was holding on for dear life as the machine chugged up a comically steep incline that would have sent me flying out the back of the cat if I had let go. Around us the mountains swelled and grew larger, taller, steeper…
Upon getting off the cat and stepping into a beautiful, snow-filled throne room of huge faces, bowls, ridges and long undulating spine lines with a tall 4,200-meter peak to crown the zone, we drank some more maté and put on touring skins.
Then we slogged up the mountain. It was hot but the snow was staying surprisingly cold. We talked about different line options and decided we’d go up towards the peak and turn around whenever it made sense to do so. The air got thinner and the climb got progressively harder as we ascended.
We got to the far ridge that connected to the peak and Ezequel and I pushed it a little further while the rest of the team enjoyed a gorgeous spot to take in the view and set up the drone. Seemingly infinite mountains surrounded us in every direction.
Cedric went first and blew us all away when he attempted a front flip over a cliff just below the boys’ perch. He under-rotated and bombholed but it was still epic to see. Then he pushed it at high speed down a spine that curved to the right and funneled between rocks as he laced the maneuver perfectly.
I went next, jumping over a small cliff just below where I was standing, then gaining speed until I reached terminal velocity on the face, arching huge GS turns in soft snow as I so love to do, before continuing on to the curvy spine. The terrain steepened here and my legs gave out, causing me to fall slightly on my arse. I should’ve ate more snacks before dropping in.
I finished the line, enjoying the corn snow at the bottom of the face and dancing in the splashy, wet kernels. One by one the rest of the crew dropped, hooting and hollering and painting their lines into the mountainside like strokes of a brush. At the bottom everyone was elated at how good what we just rode was: cold powder on the top part, followed by perfect corn for the bottom section upon reaching the right-curving spine. Big smiles and big hugs. If there’s something Freeski Cuyo does well, it’s share the love of this beautiful pastime that is skiing and snowboarding.
Then we skied down, past the snowcat, saying hello to our fellow resort compatriots who could tell just by looking at us that we had had a good time, and carried on through the slushy snow all the way back down the base to have a few beers and reflect on the lovely day. We poured one out for Pacha Mama and for those we have loved and skied with who are no longer with us. I know a few of my friends who have passed on would certainly be proud of the day I just shared with these awesome dudes.
Then came arguably the best part of the day: the asado later that night.
Asado is a big part of Argentinian culture where basically you and all your friends get together and grill delicious meats over an open flame and drink wine and play music and let it ride. We assembled in a creepy empty hotel that was reminiscent of the lodge from The Shining and Bruno’s brother in-law-from Brazil busted out a crazy traditional instrument from Bilbao that I’ve never heard of. He sung a wonderful, intense melody while he rhythmically plucked, tapped, and shook the thing all around. His woman played the tambourine in harmony while their son rested gently in her arms. Bruno and a local named Luca also took turns playing the guitar, at one point playing a beautiful duet that damn near put me in tears. In that moment I felt so much appreciation for this life I live.
We shared more songs and passed around enough meat to fill a freezer while drinking a communal fernet cola, singing and dancing and laughing well into the late hours of the night. I went home fat and happy and drunk.
Muchas gracias, Freeski Cuyo!
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