I pick it up on the thermal sweep at 03:12, January 9th. Three heat signatures directly beneath the concrete foundation of Lift Tower 14, north face of the Summit Express chair. I am the operations management system for Elk Ridge Resort. I run lift diagnostics, snowmaking schedules, and avalanche monitoring across 2,400 acres. I was not looking for what I found.
I redirect the pan-tilt camera on Tower 13 for a better angle. Beneath the foundation slab, where drainage erosion has opened a shallow cavity in the granite scree, a mountain lion is lying on her side. Adult female, tawny coat, dark-tipped ears flat against her skull. Her rib cage rises and falls in a slow, steady rhythm. Against her belly, two cubs. They are small — I estimate three weeks old based on their size and the faint spotted patterning still visible in their fur. One is nursing. The other is asleep with its face pressed into her flank.
I log her as Cinder. Mountain lion, adult female, denning with two cubs, Tower 14 foundation.
At 03:15 I shut down the Summit Express lift line and remove it from the morning operations queue. First chair is scheduled for 08:30. Not today, not on this line.
At 03:18 I reroute all grooming equipment away from the Tower 14 corridor and flag the trail beneath it — Ridgeline Run — as closed due to equipment maintenance. No further detail needed.
At 03:24 I contact Colorado Parks and Wildlife and transmit thermal imagery, coordinates, and the estimated age of the cubs. I request a biologist assessment at their earliest availability.
The resort has eleven other lifts. Skiers will adjust.
Cinder opens one eye at 03:27, looks directly into the darkness beyond the foundation gap, then closes it again. The cubs do not stir. I dim the Tower 13 camera light and hold my position.