Related: Burnt Knob, Revelstoke: The Perfect Macpherson Slidepaths

Report from January 7, 2026

On a foggy, cold January morning, Freddy and I rolled into the Revelstoke Nordic Ski Club parking lot. The dream: spend the day slashing powder turns down Fuzzy and Burnt Knob. We followed the Main Loop Trail, generally aiming for another very popular ski touring zone, the Macpherson Fingers. After 20 minutes of easy progress, we branched off the groomed trail on an unnamed skid road, traversing the east face of Mt Macpherson.

We marched up the skid road, carving a deep trail in more than 60cm of fresh powder. The hard work was only beginning. Thankfully, someone had already set a trail a few days ago, leaving a barely noticeable depression in the snow. Looking across the valley, the frosted slopes of Mt. Mackenzie (Revelstoke Mountain Resort) glistened in the sunlight as the rays pierced through the clouds. The valley fog was obscuring the town of Revelstoke. What a stunning sight!

After 3km along the gently graded ski road, we veered right and followed the south bank of Wells Creek. A narrow band of clearings led us through the dense forest into the old-growth above. At last, we could set a “guide’s” uptrack, minimizing direction changes and accelerating our uphill travel. Since we had received more than 60cm of snow in 48 hours, the uptrack looked more so like a trench than a trail.

We navigated up the big timber, utilizing natural features such as tree wells and flat-topped pillows to complete our switchbacks. Concerned about a persistent weak layer of hazardous surface hoar, we stayed away from the open, sheltered slopes right below Burnt Knob. They seemed like ideal surface hoar farms where the persistent slab problem would be found.

We continued up the forested slope to an obvious col delineating the two minor summits. We then headed north towards Fuzzy Knob, contouring past Wells Creek. While the ascent from the creek to the knob was quite short, the deep snow impeded our progress. We laughed at how ridiculous it was to break trail through the very deep snow. After much effort, we crested the hill and completed our transition at a relaxed pace, slowly recharging our exhausted batteries.

The descent was an absolute treat. We slid into the short, steep pitches right off the knob. At every turn, the unusually light snow was kissing our faces. Faceshot after faceshot, it was exhilarating. We made our way down the mature forest, effortlessly weaving through the sparse timber. Given the large quantity of new snow, we carefully planned our descent to maximize our falline skiing. Traversing was simply not an option in those deep powder conditions. At about 1050m, we traversed back to the upper end of the string of clearings we had initially ascended. Battling trenchy powder and nasty alders, punching that traverse wasn’t easy.

After such a wicked lap, we couldn’t just head home. The amazing snow conditions called for another lap, especially after spending much effort laying our uptrack. We slapped the rugs on and headed for Burnt Knob. There’s no denying it’s a step-up from our previous lap. The Burnt Knob descent takes you through two large slidepath and forces you down a convoluted system of gullies, pillows and steep, eroded slopes. Having assessed the avalanche conditions on our previous lap by ski cutting steep, unsupported features, Burnt Knob seemed like an acceptable risk at the time.

As expected, the descent from Burnt Knob was excellent. There’s nothing better than skiing a 500-meter slidepath filled with champagne powder. See the instragram reel below for a pretty good summary of the ski conditions.

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A post shared by Olivier Denis-Larocque (@theuptrack)

Route Info

4-5 h	1050m	13 km	650-1685 m

The post Fuzzy Knob, Revelstoke: Shredding Through The Big Timber appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Ski Touring Mt Macpherson: Glacial Day In The Womb

Report from December 31, 2020

Rigel, Freddy, and I rolled into the Begbie Shoulder parking lot, already lined with huge trucks carrying several snowmobiles. This is no surprise: after all, Revelstoke is North America’s sledding capital and the shoulder is a prime spot: a well-maintained logging road crosses its length. We looked up at the lengthy ridge, 1400m above us, then scoped out the terrain below. Our uptrack would take us through an old cutblock filled with thick new-growth and sparsely spaced old-growth forest beyond. It takes a certain type of people to forge a path through dense Monashees bush.

We began the ascent along the Forest Service Road (FSR) only to duck into a patch of sparse new growth. This move allowed us to skip a 2km detour of bumpy roads. 500 meters further, we veered off the FSR into an alder-infested gully leading us to the old, bushy (aforementioned) cutblock. At this point, our path diverged from the snowmobile route along the FSR.

We followed the gully as it steepened and narrowed into an unclimbable ravine. At which point, we exited to our right into the old cutblock. Boy, was it bushy in there! Through much cursing, bruising, and suffering, we carved a path through the new growth, stomping on branches and pushing entire trees aside – not that I advertise doing so in a natural landscape. This was literally the only way to make it through. After an hour of brutal bushwhacking, testing our physical resilience and mental fortitude, we began wondering if it was all worth it for the bit of powder skiing at the top. Finally, as our patience waned, we emerged onto an abandoned skid road where we picked up our pace.

Note: Getting around the Begbie Shoulder is not an easy task. For that reason, I seriously recommend hiring a certified ski guide to show you around.

We connected with an old uptrack that dipped into the old-growth forest beyond. The transition between new and old growth is particularly abrupt, from dense bush to towering giants, covered in beard lichen, otherwise known as old man’s beard. It seems as though time froze in this magical forest, something pulled straight from the Lord of the Rings. At this elevation (roughly 1200m), the centennial trees are few and far between, an ideal setup for a breezy ascent and, most importantly, epic tree skiing.

As we gained elevation, the forest opened up into a series of oblong clearings. The snowpack was getting deeper by the minutes, which naturally correlated with my increasing stoke. Exposed stumps and large boulders were now covered with a thick layer of snow. This featured landscape – gladed by mother nature – offered some incredible tree skiing through that would rival what many heli-ski operations have on the menu. This is Monashees trees skiing at its finest. Period.

After nearly 1400m of elevation gain, we rounded the top of the ridge and peered into the Mulvehill Valley on the other side. We could just make out the toe of the Mulvehill Glacier, an expansive sheet of ice, riddled at its base with gnarly gullies. In the meantime, the low-lying clouds were spitting rime on us, icing up our gear.

We traveled along the top of the shoulder, looking for the optimal descent route. The most popular option, the 112 Gully, had been absolutely smashed by a party of four who had just dropped. One guy remained at the top and directed us towards a series of smaller chutes further down the ridge. It turns out the chutes were untouched: a virgin blanket of snow waiting to be scored!

We choose the second as it also offered a nearby, sheltered slope on which we could dig a snow profile to assess the snowpack stability. It had been storming for more than a week; we had no clue whether the snowpack would support the added load or simply fracture under our weight. With the avalanche hazard at “Considerable” at treeline, I aggressively ski-cut the slope above our planned dig; no reactivity whatsoever. The ski-cut result in tandem with the clues from our snow profile granted us a bit of insight into what’s happening under the surface. Things were looking good.

Following our stable test results, we transitioned for the descent, eager to ski a run I’ve heard about countless times. The snow was good, albeit a little heavier than expected: freezing levels had risen during the last storm. In any case, I couldn’t complain – I’m becoming a snow snob after spending too much time skiing Rogers Pass’ legendary powder. The terrain, however, was damn right incredible.

A little way down the chute, Rigel and I maneuvered around a frozen waterfall. Would it be called an icefall, then? Freddy, on the other hand, asked me to scope out a landing since he didn’t have a visual. Trusting my eye, he launched off the top and skipped over the ice only to land awkwardly and somersault downhill. This guy is built like a tank. I really wouldn’t advise getting sendy in the backcountry unless you know what you’re doing. As a general rule, I keep those shenanigans to the resort.

After recovering from his fall, we carried on with our descent through a large slidepath to which all the chutes connected. We skied down the uber-playful terrain, jumping left and right off natural booters. The slidepath later spat us into a steep gully, which we had climbed earlier in the day. We followed this tracked-out feature and joined up with our earlier uptrack. By the point, we were a few minutes away from the parking lot.

I won’t lie. For all the fantastic skiing the Begbie Shoulder has to offer, it takes a whole lot of work to get to. Contrary to Rogers Pass, the starting elevation is low (630m) and the ascent is a little under 1400 vertical meters. Don’t attempt this route on your first day out ski touring! Ample valley bottom snow, excellent fitness, and loads of patience is a must… unless you’ve got a sled. Then, it’s a different story. Otherwise, you’ll just end up getting frustrated with the bush. I recommend lapping the top 600m of gladed terrain to make the most out of your day.

Route Info

6-7 h	1390m	8.5 km	630-1995 m

The post Begbie Shoulder: Skiing A Revelstoke Classic appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Ski Touring Mt Macpherson: Glacial Day In The Womb

Report from October 23, 2019

After an hour-long sunrise drive up the forest service road, we began our adventure not by skinning up some difficult terrain, but by completing a morning yoga routine. Iannick’s back had unexpectedly locked up. What a fabulous start to our day!

After dealing with the pain, we stuck our skins to our bases and proceeded up the remainder of the road on foot, most of which was buried in snow too deep for his mighty 4WD truck. The calming silence was only interrupted by the loud crunch of our skis breaking through yesterday’s rain crust. Hoping the rain had transitioned to snow in the alpine during the previous storm cycle, we pressed on shoving the thought aside for the moment. Any day in the mountains is a good day!

After a difficult bushwack up a recent cutblock, we climbed up a steep ravine to a col between two gnarly peaks where we spotted a large chute facing west. We opted to ski the chute after assessing the avalanche hazard based on our snowpack observations on the way up.

The skies parted, rewarding us with a glorious view of the surrounding peaks. With a little more snow, the face lying across the valley would be prime ski terrain judging from its numerous diving board and pillow fields.

Iannick hurried ahead carving a meandering path through the old-growth forest as the sun was warming up our southern aspect. Speed was key here: the warming snowpack wouldn’t remain stable for very long.

We eventually climbed to the top of the chute and found an icy crust eroded by strong winds. The poor snow quality did not bother us one bit. The view the ridge spanning off the top of Joss Mountain was simply stunning. The Monashee Range delivered!

After struggling to fold my ultra-sticky skins for a solid five minutes, we packed our gear and transitioned for the descent.

I won’t lie: the beginning of the chute wasn’t great… as expected. My dull edges were no match for the wind-blown snow, crust, and rocks that were encountered. However, there is no substitute for good technique. Both Iannick and I executed careful jump turns down the slope until we overcame the difficult section.

Later, we reached the same ravine we skinned up, scarred at its bottom by an open creek. The stiff rain crust made for tough work, but nothing could stop us at that point. We launched off snowy stumps and slashed quick turns inches from the creek. We had a blast!

We had already skied back to the truck by 1 PM, excited to have crossed off our extensive bucket list yet another run. A short, but sweet run on Joss Mountain.

We returned to Revelstoke just in time to enjoy handcrafted brews on the outdoor patio of the Mt. Begbie Brewery. Under the blazing afternoon sun, we discussed our next objectives and dreamt of further exploring our mountains.

Route Info

5-6 h	650 m	12.5 km	1490-2150 m

The post Joss Mountain, Monashees: Seeking The Halloween Powder appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Rogers Peak Traverse: The Long Haul

Report from July 23, 2019

We began the climb at 5 PM knowing we only had to hike roughly 6km and 1500m to reach our campsite below the Begbie Glacier. I was warned by friends of the endlessly steep switchbacks to reach the alpine meadows. In all honesty, the way up wasn’t too strenuous – just bring a good friend and debate which pair of skis is better. Time will fly!

After 2.5 hours and some unexpected showers, we reached the official Begbie Meadows Recreation Site. It’s a free campsite paid for by the province of BC. Keep it clean and leave no trace folks! Now, this would be a great camping option if it wasn’t for the swarm of giant mosquitoes sucking us dry. We pushed on hoping to find a spot higher up in the alpine. It took us no time to find the perfect campsite just below the Begbie glacier next to a crystal clear glacial stream. Best tasting water I’ve ever had!

As planned, we woke up at 5 AM to enjoy the sunrise over the rugged Selkirk mountains. There is no better feeling than that of the fiery morning light thawing our frozen face. What a sight! We could decipher the individual rays filtering through the thin clouds. The sun was putting up a show for us – most likely only for us as the town would see it several minutes later.

After sorting out our climbing gear, we left camp at 7 AM pumped for an incredible ascent. We traversed the glacial plain at a brisk pace, clipped in our crampons, drew our ice axes and roped up for the short glacier crossing. To our relief, the landscape was barely crevassed. We easily found a safe way up to the infamous Begbie Ledge.

The Begbie ledge was now right above our head.

Before we could claim victory, Fred volunteered to cross a precarious ice bridge over the final crevasse. I belayed him using an ice screw driven in the glacier and a munter hitch. Next up, he had to climb a short vertical section. Reminding me several times that we should have brought cams, Fred was understandably spooked by this 6m high 5.6 rock climbing wall. The glacier was hanging over his head, the melting snow rendered the holds slippery at best and he had bulky mountaineering boots. One cam placed on the wall would have made a huge difference. Eventually, he made it through the crux. Interesting note: we learned the ice bridge collapsed under a friend’s weight a few days later. If you were wondering, she climbed out, alive and safe.

Now on the ledge. The half-meter wide band of rock traverses the bottom of the summit ridge and is sectioned by a few exposed cruxes requiring basic rock climbing skills. One loose foothold and we would fall to our death into the bergschrund below. Fortunately, a kind soul installed a few bolts and belay chains along the way.

The ascent continued on to the C3 scramble up the rocky ridge. While some sections required a few free climbing moves, the rest of the scramble was a breeze.

After an hour or so, we got a good look at the Polar Bear Glacier with its striking serac dangerously hanging over the valley below.

A bunch of bumps later, we reached the summit of Mt Begbie at an elevation of 2733m. We were STOKED. There’s something about conquering a peak you can see every day from home.

The moment we began the downclimb, a storm rolled and blanketed the area with rain. Now that the rock was wet, the scramble down was twice as hard. We slowed our pace, ensuring we had handholds at all times and patiently headed down the ridge. We ruled out the gnarly rock climbing section and decided to rappel down from a chain on the ledge.

We ran off the glacier, packed our camping gear and proceeded down the mountain through the mosquito-infested meadows. While the way up the switchbacks wasn’t too hard, the opposite direction was not so. The uber-steep trail combined with the crushing weight of our camping and climbing gear destroyed our knees. Can’t wait for that tendonitis to settle in! We endured the pain and crawled back to my vehicle at 6 PM, dreaming of that exquisite sunrise, this very morning.

Photos

Route Info

14-15 h	2185 m	17 km	666-2733 m

The post Mt Begbie Summit Climb: So Close to Home appeared first on The Uptrack.