Journey North

Today I walked a sandy beach along Lake Kootenay while the smell of smoke from a woodstove hung in the air.  I was in Kokanee Creek Provincial park walking a moss lined trail as the creek rushed past.  I had arrived in Nelson, BC two days prior to sample some of the goods at Whitewater ski area though the weather had not been all that cooperative.  Luckily I had gotten in a day on soft spring snow before rain and warm temperatures forced the mountain to shut for the day.

It had been a nice five days as I worked my way north from Spokane to Schweitzer Mountain outside Sandpoint, Idaho.  Timing meant I hit soft spring corn on the Winterfest weekend when people came with a party spirit and crazy outfits to match, including a variety of super heroes, a yeti and a liftie in a storm trooper helmet.  Under a bright sun and clear blue skies, hoards of skiers sipped cold beers while listening to live music and enjoying the view of the main bowl. So, with a large coffee in hand and a good nights rest I had pointed the car north toward the Canadian border.  The route wound through valleys dotted with ranches and freestone rivers before arriving at the Porthill border crossing.  I struggled for a few minutes to figure out how to switch my car's readout into Km from MPH after clearing border control.  It is fascinating how someone with a master's degree can find the simple act of finding a button so damn frustrating. 

Earlier today I strolled along the waterfront in Nelson enjoying some crisp morning air.  The town began to stir to life as I walked the streets past boutiques, eateries and book stores.  I climbed to Pulpit Rock and peered down at Nelson from above while small planes and helicopters swooped below me and banked to land at the small airport that lay along the west arm of Kootenay lake.  After a quick lunch and as light rain began to fall I hiked back to the car and traveled northeast to Ainsworth hot springs.  My tired muscles were happy to soak in the 108 degree water as I floated with my body submerged and my face poking above through the invisible surface tension where air and water meet. 

From the hot springs I went just a bit further north to Fletcher Falls where a wonderful curtain of water cascaded down through a mossy landscape full of large cedars that shed rain drops from their massive branches.  I walked alone along the spongy trail as low clouds drifted over the lake below.

Later, back at my hotel room I was a bit like a wet noodle as I ate dinner silently before the TV.  Despite the uncooperative weather and warm, damp day I had managed to make the best of things.  Tomorrow I would check out and continue my travels north to Revelstoke for the final leg of this journey.  I was excited but nervous knowing that this would be the most physically challenging part of my five weeks.

Utah Powder Dreams

The last ten days are a bit of a blur.  Not because I was in some chemically induced stupor but because I was high on good skiing and being in the mountains.  When mother nature finally chose to deliver some fresh snow it threw a switch in me that was hard to turn off.  It began with a “dust on crust” day that really wasn’t remarkable for anything other than it got me out of the condo after two long days of doing nothing aside from surfing the web and shuffling to the hot tub at 3 o’clock with a cocktail in hand to commiserate with my fellow skiers.  

Admittedly I was still feeling the sting of Elizabeth’s going back to New Hampshire and facing the reality it would be four weeks until I would see her again.  Granted I had a great 4 weeks of adventure ahead of me and the time would likely tick by but anyone who has ever been in love can identify with what I was feeling.  Thankfully the improvement in the conditions meant I could focus that energy on finding good snow and creating my own art in the form of perfectly skied lines through trees and bowls.  

As the wind howled and dense snow fell early on the storm cycle Rick, Leslie and I took to hiking to find good snow among a place known as Richards Woods and Northslope.  The poma lift was shut due to the wind, but for those willing to walk with their skis slung over their shoulder there was a beautiful glade of nicely spaced Aspens waiting to be poached.   It wasn’t classic Utah powder but it was as good as anything back east.  Besides, the mark of a truly good skier is someone who can ski the terrain under the current conditions.  

As the next wave of snow arrived it feels light and fluffy on top of the dense snow already spread across the area.  It was snow so light that as your skis pierced it, it crumbled in on itself as if it was hollow below the visible top layer.  We floated through a world of crystalline magic and the deepening snow meant we had to find steeper aspects.  Having arrived early one morning thanks to Mike and Jean Kluk and their “Subaru bus”, we booted up at Hidden Lake Lodge and made a beeline to Sanctuary Ridge.  Mike laid down the first set of tracks going out the ridge and the anticipation of fresh tracks in Fletcher’s Bowl looked more like reality.  As we negotiated through a line a thick Douglas Firs the bowl opened up below us.  It was a clean, white slate without a blemish on its shimmering surface and led to grove of trees far below where we would find even more pillowy snow.

Taking the first line I float downslope as a plume of white trails me.  Never before have I ever experienced such a sensation as I arc turns to the bottom of the bowl and then wait while the others follow.  After a wonderful ski through the woods and multiple chairlift rides we arrive back at the top of Fletcher’s bowl and discover that our lines are still the only ones present so we go for “seconds”.  Mike, Jean and I later peel off to drop multiple times through the Powder Chambers until our legs are spent.

Unfortunately, with the passing days the snow gets tracked up, consolidated and sun affected.  It forces continuous planning to find good snow but that means we explore areas I have not yet skied.  Utilizing skins we yo-yo shots off of Raintree and amazingly find 18 inches of duff in shaded north slopes.  I concluded my time at Powder Mountain and in Utah by finally skiing one of the double black diamond shoots I had long eyed.  While the snow was not ideal, and I did not ski it with the true grace I would have liked, it was a great run that gave me a better understanding of the terrain off Lightening Ridge and next year I hope to hit it under better conditions.

      (Rick dropping a line near Raintree)