Related: Montana Trees, Revelstoke: One Hella Deep December

Report from December 25, 2025

After Kaitlin and I took a brisk ride on the Stoke Chair, we arrived at the top of Revelstoke Mountain Resort, ready to go for a Christmas slackcountry mission. With no definite objective in mind, we headed south, aiming to ski an alpine line beyond the resort’s boundary. At the wind sock, I adhered my climbing skins to the Ferreol Surfeur 112 powder skis, surprised by the lack of crowds. I guess people would rather sleep in on Christmas Day!

Ferreol Surfeur 112 Ski Review

We ducked under the rope line and followed an existing uptrack contouring across the SW face of Mt Mackenzie. The views were spectacular. The sea of clouds hovering over the Columbia River to the west was lit up by the low December sun. Being so close to the winter equinox, the days are shorter, but the lighting is jaw-dropping. It was the first day we’d seen the sun in more than 3 weeks of a particularly snowy December.

We made our way towards Goat Peak, a prominent Thumb’s Up-looking mountain along the Mackenzie SE Shoulder. Battling various wind drifts and small Christmas Trees, we walked along the breezy ridge, keeping a safe distance from the large cornices above Highway Bowl to our left. Those cornices have caught experienced skiers by surprise in the past, resulting in injuries and difficult evacuations.

We pressed onwards towards the summit of Goat Peak. While you can easily traverse skier’s left through Montana trees to get to the bottom of Montana Bowl, we chose to extend our first lap with a south-facing descent from the summit into the bowl below. It’s a short detour that turns a traverse into a proper ski line. We transitioned a few meters below the peak to avoid a particularly wind-scoured section. With the clearer weather, we were granted panoramic views of Montana Peak and the surrounding area.

Ready for a ski, Kaitlin posted herself downhill of me for a photo opportunity, and I dropped in for my first descent of the day. With the high winds of the previous day, the surface snow on the upper section was wind-packed, offering a solid platform for making energetic turns. As we descended the slope, the snow quality improved into bottomless powder. We found our way through a series of wind lips, increasing our speed and confidence as we entered the large expanse of Montana Bowl.

At the bowl’s termination, we transitioned back into uphill mode, now ready for the ascent up the Montana Ridge leading up to its peak. We worked our way up the northern edge of the bowl, crossing below our fresh downhill tracks. The next section reminded me how technical this uptrack can be. With better avalanche stability, I typically track-set across the open west face. However, due to the considerable avalanche hazard in the alpine and treeline, we climbed conservatively along the ridge. Battling bushy trees, steep gullies and wind pillows, we eventually made it up Montana Peak with a scenic finish on the flat-topped feature.

With the winds whistling through our gear, we removed the climbing skins and buckled our ski boots. Lap #2 followed the distinct treed rib dividing the west from the southwest face. With the storm slab problem in mind, we opted for a supported line weaving through the sparse trees and opening up lower down Montana Bowl. Having been exposed to the recent winds, the cold snow was slightly pressed, but still skied great. 8/10 if I were to rate it. After all, backcountry skiing isn’t always about the snow quality – even for a powder snob such as me. It’s about the experience.

We continued our descent down Montana Bowl. Looking around, we felt quite small traversing underneath the boundless alpine slopes. After pushing past a flat frozen pond, we punched through the evergreens and skied down the southern-most lines of the Montana Trees area. We regrouped at the cul-de-sac where the Natural Selection Tour‘s Revelstoke chapter was held last March. We promptly made our way back to the resort, following the beginner-friendly Montana cat road.

Route Info

3 h	410 m	6 km	1860-2341 m

The post Montana Peak, Revelstoke: Big Mountain Lines For Christmas appeared first on The Uptrack.

Information sharing on the uptrack

Information sharing on the uptrack is high on my list when it comes to backcountry skiing & splitboarding etiquette. It’s critical even! I make it my mission to inform fellow uptrackers of the avalanche red flags encountered on the trail. This includes whumpfing, cracking, audible or visible avalanche observations, as well as ski quality on different aspects and areas. This critical information sharing (when done correctly and accurately) improves everybody’s backcountry safety.

On the flip side, oversharing is dangerous. For instance, snowpack test results can be misinterpreted by backcountry goers of varying experience levels. Instead, convey your general risk assessment, encouraging other parties to conduct their observations and draw their own conclusions.

Know before you go

Gather all the information before heading out in the backcountry. There’s a plethora of online tools providing daily avalanche and weather forecasts as well as real-time webcam and weather actuals. Guidebooks are also a great resource to familiarize yourself with a specific route or consider different options based on the forecast. Look at terrain photos, topographic maps and route descriptions. While The Uptrack has all that and more, focusing on the Revelstoke and Rogers Pass area, Douglas Sproul wrote a massive guidebook on the wicked backcountry lines at Rogers Pass.

Always go out with the right avalanche and backcountry gear. I make it a point to do a gear check before leaving our house. While I typically don’t forget my shovel, transceiver and probe, it’s too easy to misplace important items such as sunglasses, sunscreen, ski crampons, etc!

Follow good travel practices in avalanche terrain

When it comes to backcountry skiing and spitboarding etiquette, sharing the terrain with other skiers and riders is a big one. When climbing the uptrack, give other parties some space. Give them a wide berth, if you notice the party is spacing out while travelling through consequential features. Most likely, they’re reducing their exposure and limiting their load on a sketchy snowpack. The same applies to the downhill sections. Do not, I repeat, do not ski above another party. You risk triggering an avalanche above them, one that could easily take them for a ride as well. Give them time to finish the run until they’re clear of the avalanche path. Alternatively, you can choose another line that doesn’t affect the folks below you. Keep communication clear and concise within your group. Whether with a clear line of sight, a distant pole wave or VHF radios, find a way to keep in touch with others in your party at all times!

Respect and maintain the uptrack

Breaking trail after a storm is part of backcountry skiing and splitboarding fun. Good etiquette is a must! Offer some help breaking trail if you see someone in your party or another party trenching through deep snow. Take turns at the front. After all, it’s a community effort. In my books, whoever broke trail the most gets first descent. Don’t sneak past a group breaking trail only to get a first descent!

Another good one is uptrack maintenance (the trail, not the blog)! First and foremost, avoid skiing over the uptrack (if possible) and its corners, especially in steeper terrain where a platform allowing an effective kick-turn was dug in. Give overused corners some love by digging the uphill side wall with your pole baskets or even bust out your avalanche shovel when the snow is hard.

Respect the mountains and their community

If your group is faster than the party ahead, pass them with respect. Be patient and ask politely first: most skiers or splitboarders will cede the way naturally. There’s no need to push the person aside, throwing a quick elbow along the way. This is not a European resort after all! Don’t bring up the long rivalry between skiers and splitboarders. When travelling with a mixed group, plan to ride a line that works for both planks, wide and narrow! Set a nice downhill track for our snowboarder friends out there and stop the group on top of bumps, not before, leaving space for the snowboarders to continue the descent without endlessly hopping through an uphill section.

Leave no trace. Good environmental stewardship is a critical component of backcountry skiing and splitboarding etiquette. It’s easier to follow those rules in the winter than in the summer since the snow offers a blank canvas upon which to travel. Pack out all your garbage (including fruit peels). If you’ve gotta take a bathroom break, do it away from the main uptrack and aim toward trees. Let’s just say a little off-trail “irrigation” is far better than leaving surprises where others travel. Avoid going for a #2 in the alpine, on glaciers or at treeline: fecal matter will decompose much slower at higher elevations than in the forest down low. In addition, avoid damaging flora. There’s a time and place for glading branches and cutting trees to make the uptrack work for you. If possible, smartly lay your uptrack to avoid doing just that. A good chunk of our backcountry terrain is in protected national parks. Some tree species such as the Whitebark Pine risk extinction due to diseases, fire suppression, climate change and insect attacks. Learn to recognize and protect them.

Follow local guidelines

In the Revelstoke area, some zones have specific local guidelines that must be observed. For instance, Glacier National Park conducts artillery-based avalanche control on the slopes threatening the Trans-Canada Highway corridor. In conjunction with the avalanche control program, Parks Canada established the intricate Rogers Pass Winter Permit System that allows backcountry skiers and splitboarders safe access to its world-class terrain. Failure to follow the permit system will result in expensive fines for the user. Our access to Glacier National depends on us. Parks Canada reserves the right to prohibit recreational access to its mountains. That would be a tremendous loss for mountain recreationalists and professionals alike! Camping in Glacier National Park requires a winter backcountry camping permit and is heavily enforced. Chat with the nice staff at the Discovery Center for more information.

Believe it or not, most of our backcountry terrain is outside of protected parks or conservation areas on what Canadians call “crown land”. Several centuries of forest exploitation have opened up new areas by building an extensive network of forest service roads (FSR) and clearing trees. Many recreationists utilize these networks either by vehicle or snowmobile to access our backcountry terrain. While this network of backroads is maintained by loggers at a high price, they are willingly letting recreationalists use those roads. Travel with a VHF radio in your vehicle, keeping an ear out for the logging radio traffic. Call your kilometres just as the loggers do. Always cede the way to logging trucks heading downhill: they can hardly break down steep sections when loaded with heavy cargo. Carry tire chains and emergency gear in your vehicle as the FSRs are often icy.

Safety is paramount

Don’t ride alone. Even during periods of great avalanche stability, you could trigger the unlikely slide, catch an edge on boilerplate windboard or clip a buried tree and break a leg. So many injuries can happen in the backcountry. Having a group to rely on is essential in the event of a rescue. I carry an emergency satellite communication device such as the InReach Mini. Newer iPhones now have satellite communication capabilities.

Know your limits and discuss them with your group. Pushing an individual past his prime will only result in an injury over time. Fatigue and high elevation also tend to impair judgement. From experience, I know my judgement begins to be affected past 2900m. Good hydration and eating habits in the backcountry will go a long way to preserve your physical and mental strength in the mountains.

Final Words

Here it is: my compiled list of dos and don’ts when it comes to backcountry skiing and splitboarding etiquette. It’s not at all an exhaustive list. It’s just what I’ve observed over many years of travelling in our pristine backcountry. Again, I encourage you to leave a comment in the comment section below. I may even add it to the list at some point! As always, encourage others to follow good practices, etiquette and guidelines specific to an area (such as Rogers Pass). A gentle reminder goes a long way to avoid painful consequences later on. Be a good steward of our environment and lead by example! See you on the slopes.

The post Backcountry Skiing & Splitboarding Etiquette: The Dos and Don’ts appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: McGill Shoulder Rogers Pass: Stiff Slabs and Bare Ice

Report from January 22, 2022

Freddy and I arrived at the Bostock parking lot at 8:15 AM. With the weather being a big ol’ “meh” of poor visibility and questionable snowpack stability, we decided to revisit a classic, the McGill Main Chutes. The area had been closed for two days prior due to highway avalanche control. We figured the run would offer some excellent powdery skiing and remain conservative enough for the hazard at play (several persistent weak layers buried throughout the snowpack). We slogged up the McGill Shoulder through the denser, bushier forest of the Northern Selkirks, staying on the shoulder’s crest. We were trail-breaking the whole time – I bet the groups behind us enjoyed that.

At 1600m (the magic elevation), the trees started thinning out considerably, making route-finding a whole lot easier. While we were trenching through more than 40cm of light and dry powder, the sun pierced through the clouds. What a heartwarming surprise! We could barely see the peaks across the Trans-Canada Highway corridor.

After much effort (and sweat), we reached the treeline where the top of the McGill Main Chutes is located at 2130m. We crossed the shoulder’s crest onto the SW aspect, punching through a few cornices lined up on the ridge. We followed a high traverse, crossing above the Gunbarrels, two straight cleared paths through the trees. Those are awesome options during bouts of heightened avalanche hazard since the potential for large destructive avalanches within this feature is limited.

We dug a test profile to assess the snowpack instabilities. A thick layer of faceted crystals had been buried the week prior. Several natural and skier-triggered avalanches had slid on this persistent weak layer. When our test results showed the layer was stubborn to release, we transitioned for the descent.

During our change-over, we spotted a giant crown along the chute’s top, evidence of past avalanche activity. It was clear the guts would be icy and littered with death cookies but the trim lines on both sides of the slidepath were untouched. The area hadn’t been skied yet (a perk of cutting your uptrack) so we dove right into the first of the McGill Main Chutes.

I followed the crown across the first chute, stumbling a few times on buried debris and ducked into sparse trees to the skier’s right. Boy, was the snow incredible! This is the kind of snow dreams are made out of! We slowed down once we reached the path’s runout. We crossed over the rough avalanche debris and ducked left into the sparse forest.

Ready for lap two, we slapped on our skins at 1600m, where the trees thin out. We wrapped around the shoulder to connect with our original uptrack, now almost icy due to skier traffic over the last hour. We sped up the track, passing a few groups along the way. After all the trail-breaking work, climbing up an established uptrack was an absolute breeze. At 2130m, we traversed again and crossed above the first chute to ski the second. Only perform this traverse after assessing snowpack stability since it exposes you to two huge start zones with serious consequences.

We clipped into our bindings and glided downhill. Again, the snow was sublime. We skied past the avalanche debris and into some old-growth forest that led to a pillowy clearing. I recommend following the slope’s fall line, straight down the chutes. It lines up with the clearing perfectly. Once we hit the Bostock Trail, which is easy to blow past in all the excitement, we followed the trail back to the parking lot, heading SE.

Route Info

5-6 h	1200m	7.9 km	980-2135 m

The post McGill Main Chutes: My Go-To Avalanche Path Skiing appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Grizzly Trees, Rogers Pass: Easy Access Powder Turns

Report from January 13, 2022

For Teddy Bear Trees, a late start is no problem. Our whole day got an early derailment when we found out through DriveBC that the Trans-Canada Highway was closed due to a vehicle accident. With a storm raging in the high mountains, warming temperatures, the avalanche hazard at 4-4-4 (High), and a late departure, we sat down at our local coffee shop and discussed our options. Due to recent avalanche closures of Winter Restricted Areas, our options narrowed down to one route: Teddy Bear Trees. It took a sketchy drive on the re-opened highway to arrive at the Rogers Pass Discovery Center ready to rumble. Within minutes, we were gliding along the uptrack bordering Connaught Creek.

After 30 minutes, we arrived at the base of the Grizzly Shoulder, harbouring popular ski touring routes. Due to the avalanche closures, this area was closed for the day. We continued along the creek and traversed a major terrain trap, the Grizzly Slidepath. This avalanche path is generally steep and slides almost every storm cycle. Chunky avalanche debris carpeted the lower fan. Given the high hazard, we thought it best to space out by 30m (a school bus’ length) as we crossed the potentially dangerous path.

As soon as we had crossed the slidepath, we veered right and up into the nearest forest, Teddy Bear Trees. By then, the snow turned to mashed potatoes (or cream cheese as some prefer), evidence of rapid daytime warming – a clear red flag. Best to stay away from that giant slidepath and keep things conservative. We carved a fresh uptrack through the sparse mature timber with much difficulty. Our tails kept sinking into the bottomless, almost isothermal snow while the tips stayed afloat. It felt like we were forging a path straight up a 40-degree slope. This must have been the hardest trail-breaking I’ve done in a long time!

As we gained more elevation, the trees thinned out on the shoulder’s east aspect. Still, we stuck to the denser forest in fear of triggering a moist slab in the open terrain. As my hip flexors were about to give in from trenching through more than 50cm of dense snow, we arrived at our high point of 2100m, not so far from the bootpacked ridge leading up to Grizzly Couloir.

After digging a test profile, we transitioned for the descent. Surprisingly, the top 400m pitch through sparse trees offered decent moist snow, akin to coastal pow! We weaved in and out of the trees, jumping off features when we had a chance.

At about 1875m, we ducked into the tighter trees to the skier’s right (in line with the shoulder) to avoid a piece of dangerous, unsupported terrain riddled with unskiable gullies and bushy alders. While the upper slope offers the more open skiing in perfect 35-degree terrain, it’s best to be aware of the feature below, a big ol’ terrain trap, if you were carried away by an avalanche and dragged through the narrow, rocky gullies.

Once we traversed back into the mature timber along the shoulder’s crest, we skied through an uninterrupted string of clearings which made for an amazingly continuous and playful descent given the dense “cream cheese” snow. At the bottom of the shoulder, we sped across the Grizzly Slidepath and effortlessly skied down to the car. We then enjoy some ice-cold beers out of the campervan, courtesy of Rigel and Steph!

Route Info

4-5 h	800m	4.3 km	1330-2100 m

The post Teddy Bear Trees: Storms And Avalanche Closures appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Rogers Run On Grizzly Shoulder: Deep Days

Report from February 3, 2021

After a quick gear-up in front of the RPDC, Jeff, Joey, Bryn and I quickly slid up the Connaught Valley passing the WRA signs reminding us of the permit system. Often enough, Park Wardens hang out at the East Rogers WRA border to check permits and ensure no one enters the area when closed. We took the winter uptrack that follows the north bank of Connaught Creek, weaving through alders and tight trees – it’s no problem with a deep snowpack. We climbed the east side of the Grizzly Slidepath, an active avalanche path, and ducked into the trees of the Grizzly Shoulder to minimize our exposure to the enormous slidepath.

I was pushing the pace to catch up with large guided groups. It was imperative to beat them to the top as they would disturb the white blanket waiting for us on the descent. Fortunately, as with most guided groups, they were horrendously slow. By midway up the shoulder, we had already taken the lead, now trail-breaking through progressively wetter snow. The sun had pierced the rolling clouds, just enough time to melt the snow’s surface.

The top of Grizzly Trees is a large planar, open slope that poses a serious hazard. We chose to stick to the crest of the shoulder and stay away from the slope. I took the liberty of moving away from the shoulder into the edge of the slope (from a safe spot) to jump on a convex roll a few times and test for snowpack instabilities. Nothing budged, only minor sluffing. Great!

After a brief ascent through the trees, we gained the top of the main open treeline slope at 2080m. We pushed forward in an attempt to gain the true ridge to ski our original plan, Rogers Run. In my opinion, it’s a higher quality run, offering an 850m descent through burnt trees, pillows and open slidepaths. If the avalanche hazard is within my tolerance, I’d almost always go for Rogers Run or Puff Daddy first.

Within a few careful strides in the barren SW-facing terrain, a 10m long crack shot out of my skis and triggered a 50cm deep storm slab that held on to some nearby trees in a delicate balance. Okay, we saw here three pretty obvious red flags:

• Shooting cracks
• Rapid warming (moist/wet surface snow and pinwheeling)
• Visible avalanche activity

With the prolonged solar exposure, it was time to turn around. We happily settled for a more conservative run through Grizzly Trees instead, being well ahead of the crowds.

We quickly consulted my terrain picture, taken from the NRC parking lot earlier in the season. We had four options all within the open slopes. Lines within the trees might be too tight to ski easily. As we wanted to go fast, we opted for the most obvious fall-line path as it remained untouched (the most common line).

The snow was as expected, a little heavy but still very good. We weaved in and out of the open path, hitting pillows along the way. We stopped in the lower third of the run as the snow quality was deteriorating. A short but sweet lap!

After such a great run, we couldn’t go home just yet. We sped up the shoulder once again on the existing uptrack. After a breezy ascent, we transitioned for the descent. We selected a line to the skier’s left. While it require a short traverse through trees and bushes, it led us on a SE aspect, mostly sheltered from the sun’s warming effect. The snow there had remained well-preserved, showing no signs of rapid warming. The run was epic!

We finished the day with this amazing run. Those must have been the most easily accessible powder turns of the season (not counting lift-assisted touring days). What a blast!

Route Info

4-5 h	770m	3.8 km	1330-2080 m

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Related: Skiing Avalanche Mountain, Rogers Pass: The Burn

Report from February 4, 2021

We began our day touring up the gentle railroad grade which originates from the Illecillewaet parking lot. I fell in love with this easy walk in the park – pun intended. Not only is it a great way to warm up the legs, but it’s also one of the few sheltered access routes where you don’t have to keep your head on a swivel: the avalanche hazard is non-existent.

At the intersection of the railroad grade and the A. O. Wheeler Hut, we veered off left on the Avalanche Crest trail, a summer path that would lead us up 500 meters to the base of the Avalanche Mt South Bowl. At its trailhead, a bright yellow sign warned us of the use of artillery rounds for avalanche control. In fact, we were just about to enter the Winter Restricted Area of West Rogers, governed by the Winter Permit System of Glacier National Park.

After ensuring the West Rogers WRA was open for the day, we proceeded up the trail where we found an existing track. Having been up there a few times already, I expected the uptrack to be a slick, overused mess. Fortunately, yesterday’s warm flurries had covered the icy tracks and made it a little easier for all of us, especially for rookie splitboarder, Simon.

We climbed the trail at a steady pace, only stopping every now and then to nerd out on snow science and quench our thirst. Although the slope was rather steep, the trail builders had carved a gentle path using a maze of switchbacks crisscrossing the slope. After an hour of easy climbing, the trail led us onto a bench at treeline. This feature marks the base of the Avalanche Mt South Bowl.

We followed a gully, looker’s left of the bowl, that tracks along the base of the Avalanche Crest, an alpine crescent-shaped ridge. Fred and I had walked up that ridge when climbing Avalanche Mountain, a couple of summers ago. As we stepped onto the treeless moraines high up in the bowl, we lost all of our visibility. With our heads in the clouds, I led the group on a traverse across the west half of the bowl in order to link up with the Avalanche Crest.

Every hundred meters, I would test the snow ahead, looking for signs of avalanche instabilities: whumpfing, shooting cracks, and slab properties. All we got was a faint, isolated whumpf on mellow terrain that didn’t worry me one bit. After a nauseating, 15-minute walk, I could only make out the Avalanche Crest, which we later gained by cutting across an exposed slope, one giant avalanche start zone. Throughout the whole process, we maintained an increased distance between ourselves to minimize our exposure to potential avalanches. It’s important to remember that we were travelling through a slide path with a whole lot of snow above our heads.

I breathe a sigh of relief as we reached the ridge, a temporary safe spot. Before dropping the SW face, we made sure to assess the stability of the upper layers of snow. After all, skiing Avalanche Crest is a committing adventure, tracing lines through unsupported convex rolls and serious overhead exposure. With much time on our hands, we dug a profile to observe the top layers. In the last few days, it had fallen more than 60cm of warm, dense snow. While natural avalanche activity had ground to a halt the night before, skier-triggered avalanches were our main threat.

After a series of comforting observations, we transitioned for the descent. We planned on skiing from the lowest point along the Avalanche Crest (looker’s right), peppered by sparse trees. This was a more conservative alternative to a higher alpine drop-in. If it wasn’t enough to convince us, the lower lines hadn’t been poached yet, offering excellent snow quality. That day, a cooling trend had sucked all the moisture out of the snow turning it from wet goop to blower pow. We knew we were in for a treat.

I’ll let the above video, shot in February 2020, speak for itself. The route, detailed in this trip report, was similar, albeit a little lower down on the ridge, a better line in poor visibility. We ended up skiing a little under 1000 meters of waist-deep powder – arguably my powder line of the season thus far. We ducked into a featured gully to the skier’s right and finished our run a few meters from the highway. With all honesty, Avalanche Crest might be one of Rogers Pass’ top ski runs!

Route Info

4-5 h	900-1000 m	8-9 km	1200-2200 m

The post Skiing Avalanche Crest: Rogers Pass’ Top Run? 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

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Related: Avalanche Mountain Southwest Ridge: High Above The Asulkan

Report from February 23, 2020

We stepped out of the Tacoma and were greeted by blue skies all around. I looked at my mountain partners, Laurent, Jayden, and Phil. You could sense the energy that day: they were all equally stoked to make the most of this clement weather pattern that should last for a few days. High solar output and light winds consolidated our snowpack, meaning we could ski routes that would otherwise be treacherous in adverse avalanche conditions. It was time for some big alpine lines. The plan: ski the Northwest Couloir of Avalanche Mountain (2861m), accessed by traversing the peak along the Avalanche-Eagle ridge, located above the Avalanche Bowl. This is an uncommon route. Most prefer to boot directly up the couloir after crossing the Avalanche North Glacier, a straight-forward journey.

We headed up the Avalanche Crest established uptrack. Too many kick-turns later, we gained the bottom of the southwest-facing Avalanche Bowl at the end of which the rime-crusted slopes of Avalanche Mountain and Eagle Peak stand proud. Skiing Avalanche Mountain meant navigating the rolling moraines of its bowl.

The transition from the shaded treeline slopes to the sunny alpine bowl was a thermal shock. We stripped down to our baselayer – Jay went shirtless. Spring really screws with my senses. I could feel the sun burning my neck. Yet, I could still smell the cold pure mountain air rushing through my nostrils at every breath. What a pleasant combination!

I turned around to check on Phil, casually toying with his two-pound telephoto lens, and was greeted by wonderful views of the Illecillewaet Valley. I already had my next mission in mind, a multi-day camping trip on the Illecillewaet Glacier. Those distant peaks are seldom skied and forever tantalizing.

On the way up, I noticed pinwheeling on the sunny slopes of Eagle Peak, evidence of a dangerously warm snowpack. We stopped for lunch and discussed our options. The high solar output was a huge influence on our avalanche decision-making. Time was of the essence. We had to move fast before the snowpack would reach its tipping point.

We arrived at the foot of the subpeak by noon. The sun was scorching the surface and snow was sticking to our skins, slowing down our progress. Within the span of a minute, we observed five distinct dry loose avalanches (sluff) from the steep slopes surrounding the alpine bowl. We gazed at our route, a 45-degree, 200-meter long couloir leading up to the Avalanche-Eagle ridge. After much debate, we decided not to boot up the couloir. The consequence of a slab avalanche burying our party was simply too high. We would be funneled up the chute all at once for at least an hour. Additionally, heavy sluffing from above could push us into rocks and cliffs bordering the chute. The stakes were too high. Skiing Avalanche Mountain would have to be postponed to another sunny day.

As we were about to turn back, Jayden spotted a thin chute to our left, encased within the subpeak’s nose. While the overhead hazard was still present, the start zone was much narrower (a resulting avalanche would have a smaller size) and much better supported. Slab avalanches, our biggest threat, were less likely. However, we weren’t 100% positive the chute would link up with the ridge. Since we were all comfortable with the exposure, we strapped our skis to our backpacks and began the exploration. This is what mountain adventures are all about!

The snow was thin judging from all the rocks we kicked in. Jayden bolted up the chute in no time until we reached a rather exposed section above cliffs. We regrouped at this point, sheltered by a large boulder. The couloir changed aspect, from south to southeast. As expected, the snow would be a little cooler there. We proceed up the next section without crampons.

45 minutes later, we topped out. Laurent and I led the bootpack looking for a way out of the couloir onto the ridge overhead. We circumnavigated a rocky rib, climber’s right of the couloir, with a few cruxy moves. The vertigo was hitting me. To much frustration, the rib terminated into steep impassable cliffs. There was no way out. Since we couldn’t stay in this couloir forever, our next move was clear. Escape the maw!

We quickly transitioned for skiing, making sure I secured my pack to my buried ice axe. A fall from my perch would be fatal. I pushed the thought aside and visualized every turn down the slope, a technique I was taught in Chamonix when skiing big alpine lines. I took several deep breaths to control my fear. I was ready.

After our first descent, we pressed on towards our backup exit, Avalanche Crest. We skied the untouched rolling moraines of the Avalanche Bowl and toured up the imposing Avalanche Crest ridge.

On the way up, I stumbled across friends, Kaitlin, Em, and Arnaud. What a funny coincidence! We looked down at the Avalanche Crest southwest slope, an uninterrupted 1200-meter straight shooter of a run. This was going to be glorious. Not bad for a backup.

While we didn’t achieve our goal, we were quite happy with how the day went. Our decision-making was spot-on. We kept the risk within our tolerance, found some at times gnarly, at times powdery skiing, and made it back to the truck in one piece. To this day, the Northwest Couloir remains high on my tick list, waiting patiently for the next high-pressure system to roll in.

Route Info

8-9 h	1650 m	10.5 km	1200-2650 m

The post Skiing Avalanche Mountain, Rogers Pass: The Burn appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Grizzly Mountain Skiing: Slush Cup Through Alders

Report from December 14, 2019

During my season in Chamonix, France, I fell in love with couloir (chute) skiing. Rock palisades on both sides, narrow chokes along the way, deep powder and only one way out. Here’s an interesting fact about couloirs: the skier and the snow share the same direction. Down! There’s little to no escape path if you trigger an avalanche. Even mere sluffing (loose snow) can pull the rug under you and send you careening downslope into rocks or cliffs. Needless to say, the stakes are high at all times in avalanche terrain, even more so in couloirs.

After sorting out our mountaineering gear, our adventure began at 8 AM at the Rogers Pass Discovery Center (RPDC for short). Within less than half an hour, we were deep into Teddy Bear Trees on the ridge looker’s left of Grizzly Mountain.

Thankfully, a brave one already had set a clean uptrack wading through the forest, although at a rather steep angle. Nothing a couple of tree belays couldn’t solve. The snow was so light and deep that my powder baskets punched through the surface by at least one meter. That didn’t stop Cedrik from powering up the shoulder. Man’s got a rocket up his ass.

Moments later, the ridge was narrowing. A few more precarious kick-turns got us past the crux into mellower terrain. From there, the ridge morphed into a large alpine bowl with undulating terrain, proof of the crushing burden of extinct glaciers. We stuck to the wind-blown snow on the ridge to minimize our exposure to potential avalanches overhead. At that point, the uptrack had been covered in wind-deposited snow.

The avalanche hazard was at “moderate”, which meant we still had to be very careful about our ascent path. Most accidents happen on the “moderate” hazard rating: people are caught off-guard by the low probability of avalanches. Skiers and riders are still likely to trigger slabs in isolated areas of instability.

As soon as we gained the very top of the ridge, we were blasted by howling winds so strong Cedrik’s nose turned white within minutes. He promptly covered the exposed skin with his trusty buff. Our faces were relentlessly pelted by icy snow crystals carried by the gusts. Frostbite is no joke. The wind chill must have brought the temperature down to easily -20C. The mountains were screaming in anger. Skinning was becoming increasingly difficult on the hard snow. We strapped our skis to our packs and began the long climb up the thinly covered ridge.

In the distance, we could barely make out two skiers climbing ahead. Dense clouds were rolling across the glacial plains, obscuring our visibility. We eventually caught up to them. Since we had similar plans, we joined forces for the final ascent. Thank you, François and Phil, for setting part of the bootpack on our way to Grizzly Couloir. A few words to describe it: post-holing, rock climbing, frozen hands and patience, lots of it.

With frozen fingers and toes, we gained the summit of Grizzly Mountain. Only a short exposed scramble was left between us and the couloir’s entrance. I thought to myself how awesome it is to blend ski touring with mountaineering. Fortunately, the scramble was oriented in a way that sheltered us from the high winds. I felt a relentless pain in my fingers as blood began to surge back into my capillaries. Good! Today was not the day I would become an amputee.

Our luck didn’t run out just yet. The moment we arrived at the entrance of Grizzly Couloir, a plateau sized for barely two skiers side-by-side, the sun pierced the fast-moving clouds, shining the most angelic rays upon the couloir. Looks like we were up for one hell of a run. I discussed with Cedrik the hazards at play. We would avoid the right-sloping wall of the chute where wind slabs would most likely be found after today’s strong SW winds.

François went first, carving a few carefully placed ski-cuts along the way. The stability was all-time. Phil followed once François had exited the narrow lower choke at the bottom of the run. The snow seemed hella appetizing. Cedrik went third as I snapped a few shots that turned out pretty bad. I’ll let my footage tell the story now.

Yew! What a sweet line right from the top of Grizzly Mountain! Deep untracked powder, gnarly chokes, a steep grade, and good snow stability. It’s pretty rare all those elements line up for the perfect descent. The snow was creamy to the extent where leaning back on my skis was pointless. My shovels would effortlessly bulldoze through the very cold smoke. I encountered the exact same outstanding snow conditions over the following two days of my couloir marathon. The universe wanted me to shred those lines.

Photos

Route Info

5-6 h	1450 m	7.5 km	1330-2755 m

The post Grizzly Couloir, Rogers Pass: 3-Day Couloir Marathon appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: 1. Greely Trees, Revelstoke: Slackcountry Tree Skiing At Its Best 2. Kokanee Bowl, Radar Bowl: Unreal Lift-Accessed Ski Touring

Report from December 8, 2019

We had a lazy 9:30 AM start. With our energy levels replenished from a solid night’s sleep, the crew transitioned at the top of the Wind Sock, a flat groomed area near the Stoke Chair upper station, perfect for mounting those unidirectional strips of prickly hair we call climbing skins. We took our sweet time while I caught up with Miles, who chased the famed South American powder for a continuous snow year.

It took a mere 20 minutes to reach the top of Highway Bowl, a large north-facing bowl filled with dreamy powder only a kilometre from Revelstoke Mountain Resort. We scoped out the terrain below, watching out for the precarious cornices surrounding the cirque’s rim. After discussing the avalanche hazard and testing the snow’s stability, we switched to ski mode, ready for an epic descent.

And epic, it was. The run delivered… hard. We raced down an open face with limited tree cover, into a small chute and back out into the tail end of the bowl littered with snow-covered boulders. The powder was feather-light, blazingly fast and boot-deep. I suspected the strong northerly winds blowing up the bowl had sucked any remaining moisture from the snow. It lay on top of a hollow-sounding wind crust, an interface to watch out for in the future. While the crew skied hard and fast, my run was cut short by a dramatic face plant after accidentally launching off a wind lip. The visibility was so poor that I wasn’t even aware I caught some air!

Yew! Even in my mishap, the stoke was at an all-time high. This run was the winter’s first big mountain backcountry skiing line for both Miles and Max in Revelstoke. We looked back at the mountain in utter silence.

After snapping a few shots, we proceeded downslope through the now knee-deep powder, jumping off anything with a lip. The downhill fun had to end eventually as we stumbled across an old Selkirk Tangiers helicopter landing zone. This was the landmark where we would begin our long uptrack. I was dreading this moment.

I’ll cut the tedious part out and give you the short version. Backcountry skiing in Revelstoke means dealing with trees and powder. We were now 500 meters below the exit path, which meant we had to carve a path uphill through 500 vertical meters of knee-deep powder, alder bushes, and fallen logs. This fantastic area is called Greely Trees, which we skied a few days later. We put a rather spicy uptrack through the old-growth rainforest covering Mt Mackenzie’s North Shoulder. After 2 hours and 45 minutes of billy goating with little to no break, we ducked the rope, this time into the safety of the Revelstoke Mountain Resort – we had escaped Highway Bowl. We barely made it back in time to the Ripper Chair with a warm welcome from a mob of eager patrollers in training.

Route Info

4-5 h	650 m	7.5 km	1420-2270 m

Photos

The post Highway Bowl, Revelstoke Mountain Resort: Chasing Big Lines appeared first on The Uptrack.