Later, I learned my partner had no idea I was still in the chute. A single call on the radio could have prevented the whole mess. That incident burned a key lesson into me: in the backcountry, clear and timely communication is mandatory. Ever since, no matter how small the mission, my VHF radio comes with me.

Related: Backcountry Skiing & Splitboarding Etiquette: The Dos and Don’ts

VHF Radios

A VHF (Very High Frequency) radio is a two-way communication device that operates between 30 MHz and 300 MHz. They provide handy two-way, line-of-sight communication (i.e. you can transmit and receive a signal) when out of cell service. Out in the bush, they’re commonly used in a mountain environment when driving on forest service roads.

The backcountry skiing and splitboarding communities use VHF radios to communicate key information when travelling apart. For instance, VHF radios are often used for group coordination when travelling through avalanche terrain and for emergency communication. They’re more reliable than cell phones in remote areas without cell service, but the radio’s range depends heavily on terrain. You’ll have a hard time reaching someone on the other side of a mountain pass or high ridge.

Communicating In The Field

After having been burnt by poor communication in the backcountry, I’ve noticed something: a group that talks well skis better. Not just in terms of safety, but in flow. Concise, timely radio transmissions or even simple shouts are great ways to share key information, such as an unexpected change of plan due to poor ski conditions or an increased avalanche hazard. Here are a few handy examples of backcountry communication:

• Call out “dropping in 3” or “all clear” so no one skis above someone else, and risks triggering an avalanche. That would have been handy during the incident that I described in the introduction.
• Give brief updates like “transitioning here” or “meeting at the trees” to avoid splitting up your group in complex terrain.
• Keep tabs on each other when the terrain or avalanche hazard forces you to spread out or lose line-of-sight.
• Yelling “stop” or “go” when travelling on a glacier roped up to maintain the correct spacing between your group. This is especially important in whiteout conditions – you may not see your group’s leader.

It’s simple stuff, but it makes a huge difference in improving your group’s safety and flow through the mountains. Obviously, radios are great at sharing information, but hand signals or your voice are great tools for staying in touch.

Ski touring and splitboarding isn’t just about reading the snowpack – it’s about reading your partners, too. Periodically checking in with your ski buddies helps maintain a clear mind and a common understanding of the risks when making hazard-related decisions. It’ll also prevent foreseeable injuries. Speak up when you’re faced with unnecessary risks, unreasonable exposure or ski conditions beyond your skill level. This is especially important as the weather turns for the worse or the route has to change due to unexpected hazards. In short, clear and timely communication keeps everyone safe and turns a tour into a shared adventure instead of a series of solo missions. These days, my radio is as essential as my avalanche transceiver, shovel, and probe. Silence can be the most dangerous thing of all in the backcountry.

Morning Talks & Evening Debriefs

Learning how to communicate when backcountry skiing or splitboarding involves mastering morning briefings and evening debriefs. Heck, there’s a reason why they are an integral part of the workflow in the professional avalanche world – guides and forecasters alike.

Morning Briefing: In preparation for a great day of ski touring, we first discuss possible objectives the night before. We identify a few interesting tours in accordance with the weather forecast and avalanche conditions. In the morning, we update our plan based on the overnight weather as well as the weather and avalanche forecasts. In my locale, the Avalanche Canada bulletin is a great resource for daily avalanche conditions and weather forecasts. This process is a crucial part of trip planning and involves clear communication within your group. Everyone has to be on the same page; otherwise, you’ll risk having spicy, mid-uptrack arguments.

Evening Debrief: A good day in the backcountry doesn’t end when you click out of your skis. Taking five minutes at the trailhead, in the parking lot, or even back at the cabin to debrief can be just as important as checking the forecast. Talk about what went well, what felt sketchy, and where communication or decision-making could have been sharper. It doesn’t have to be formal – sometimes, you’re just exchanging thoughts over an ice-cold beer. Those conversations build trust, sharpen your team’s awareness, and make the next tour smoother and safer.

Emergency Communication Devices

Emergency devices to communicate in the backcountry should be a crucial item on your packing list. When backcountry skiing, you can’t always count on cell service when it matters most. Even if you stack the odds in your favour, do everything right, injuries still happen. A blown knee or a fractured arm isn’t that uncommon. That’s why carrying an emergency communication device is just as important as packing your avalanche tools in the morning. We’ve touched base on VHF radios and how they keep your group connected in real time—calling “all clear” or “hold up” can prevent accidents before they happen.

For reaching the outside world in the event of a backcountry rescue, satellite messengers like an InReach or ZOLEO let you text for help, while a personal locator beacon fires off a one-way SOS. I always carry a Garmin InReach Mini for its two-way text feature and Bluetooth pairing with your phone. I’ve used it in the past when faced with a serious injury in the Whistler backcountry. The helicopter rescue was surprisingly fast and efficient. Granted, the resources were at the ready before we placed our SOS call. This is Whisler after all – the busiest skiing destination in Canada. Most importantly, knowing how to use your emergency communication device and practicing its functions means you’re not relying on luck when the unexpected happens.

The post Communicate In The Backcountry: How To Stay In Touch appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Backcountry Winter Camping For Alpine Touring

Essential Winter Camping Gear For Ski Touring

As previously mentioned, carefully selected winter camping gear goes a long way to improving your experience in the mountains. The goal is to strike the perfect balance between functionality, weight and durability when faced with the harsh weather Mother Nature might throw at you. You’ll have to carry the following equipment:

• A 4-season tent
• A cold-weather sleeping bag
• An insulated sleeping pad
• A wide array of insulating layers
• A cooking system adapted to cold temperatures
• A long-lasting headlamp

If you’re looking for more insight on the matter, you’ll find more detail in the following post: Backcountry Winter Camping Gear For Alpine Touring.

Staying Warm And Toasty

Winter camping for ski touring naturally involves some downtime at camp. Mid-winter in North America means the sun sets at around 4-6 PM, so you’ll be spending a lot of time relaxing in the dark with your headlamp beaming across the landscape.

Avoid frostbite: With temperatures often dipping below -15C at night, especially in the alpine, it’s paramount to maintain an adequate body temperature and keep those pesky extremities as far away from frost damage. Extra-warm camp booties and over gloves go a long way to preventing frostbite. I often sleep with them too. I always carry an insulated butt pad to minimize heat loss when sitting around. Your sleeping pad or backpack can double up as a butt pad if necessary.

Dry camp clothes: Once my camp setup is erected (tent platform, kitchen pit and latrine are excavated), I change into a dry set of ultra-warm base layers and bone-dry socks. Make it your mission to keep those clothes dry, as you’ll be sleeping in them that night.

Frequent high-calorie meals and fluid intake: When I get to camp, I kickstart my food & fluid intake with a warm cup of chicken broth or miso soup while the rest of the food is cooking. I keep my kitchen setup as simple as possible by exclusively using dehydrated meals requiring boiling water only. This makes planning how much camping fuel to bring on a trip much easier. With experience and some sharp mathematics, you’ll learn how to estimate your fuel use for a specific trip length according to your burner type and access to fresh water.

Managing Moisture

Ventilate your tent: Moisture build-up in 4-season tents is a serious issue. Throughout the night, you’re warm breath condenses on the tent walls and drips all over your sleeping bag, jackets, etc. It’s already hard enough to keep a sleeping bag dry on extended trips. I prefer single-walled tents for their ease of setup and lighter weight, but that does come with a drawback: poor moisture management. To alleviate the issue, I pitch my tent door into the prevailing wind and crack it open at the top to let airflow through. Pitching your tent next to a water source (high moisture availability) should be avoided at all costs, as this will exacerbate the problem.

Dry your gear as often as possible: Dry your gear in the sun whenever possible. Strap wet socks and base layers to your backpack on a sunny or windy day. Lay out the ropes, climbing skins and jackets over the tent. Stick your boot liners over your poles. In the evening, I stuff my pockets with moist gear, draping wet socks over my shoulders but underneath my puffy jacket. While you’ll be a little cold at first, it works wonders and means less drying in the sleeping bag at night. Now, the next tip is polarizing: I sleep with boot liners between my legs and insoles under my armpits. Some folks can tolerate frozen boot liners in the morning. I won’t. Years of frostbitten toes prevent me from doing so. I also stuff the next day’s base layers and socks in my sleeping bag’s toe box to keep them warm in the morning when temperatures are often chilly.

Managing The Snow

Compared to summer camping, winter camping for ski touring involves managing an obvious factor: snow. If you’re expecting a severe snowstorm, I recommend building a wall of hard snow around your tent and kitchen area, taking into account the prevailing wind direction. You may have to wake up through the night to dig out the tent’s surroundings and clear snow off your gear. I’ve often woken up at first light only to find my tent walls are almost caving in from the heavy snow load. The way tent poles can bend is a testimony to their durability. Although… I wouldn’t test out their breaking point!

Build An Effective Winter Camping Setup

An effective winter camping setup involves three main factors: site flow, protection from the elements and durability. Start with a good tent platform, tamped down with skis and left undisturbed to freeze for 10-15 minutes. Dig a pit to a depth of approximately 0.75-1m (2-3ft) at the tent’s entrance and cut out some benches around its perimeter using the excavated snow to wall the perimeter. The bench can play double duty as a kitchen table in a pinch. Stake your tent and guy lines securely with disassembled poles, ice axes or Deadman anchors. You can easily bury wooden branches and pack snow on top of them. It’ll make for bomber anchors when the surface freezes over.

From there, I carve small stairs to exit the tent/bench area and dig out a path to the latrines further downhill. Excavate a comfortable latrine large enough for the length of the trip. Trust me – it’s harder to modify after the fact! I also recommend pooping in wag bags made to securely store human fecal matter if travelling in the alpine or on glaciers where organic decomposition halts. Carve a separate path for urine, leading away from the snow you’ll use to boil water.

When camping for many days at a given site, I’ll bring another kitchen tent (often a pyramid-tarp shelter) and link the sleeping and kitchen quarters through an excavated path for added elbow room. The combination of a sleeping and kitchen area makes extended base camps extremely comfortable.

One word of advice: include your setup time in your trip planning. With experience, you’ll get quite efficient at it. It usually takes my partner and me 45-60 minutes to build a comfortable winter camping setup for a ski touring trip.

A final Word

I truly hope you found this article useful in improving your winter camping experience in the ski touring context. Winter camping is equal parts pure awe and suffering. Fortunately, camping allows for extended trips in our beautiful backcountry terrain, travel over mountains seldom visited and witness sights not many have seen before. To me, the suffering is well worth the adventure. Feel free to reach out through my Contact Page or Instagram for additional information.

The post Winter Camping For Ski Touring: Pro-Tips To Better Your Trip appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Winter Camping For Ski Touring: Pro-Tips To Better Your Trip

Winter Shelter For The Backcountry

Your shelter is your home. It’s where you cook, rest, and weather out the storms. You might be stuck in your shelter for many days in a row. It becomes your lifeline, especially when faced with a medical emergency. You’ll find below a few criteria I look for when choosing a winter camping tent.

1. Four-Season Tents:
   • Choose a tent specifically designed for winter or four-season use. These tents are built to handle snow loads, strong winds, and low temperatures.
2. Shape and Design:
   • Geodesic or dome-shaped tents are ideal for winter camping. They offer better stability in windy conditions and are capable of shedding snow.
   • Single-walled tents (without a rain fly) are low-weight, more packable and easier to set up. Condensation tends to be an issue with limited ventilation and airflow. Be prepared for your gear to get a little moist overnight. To circumvent the issue, I pitch my tent with the door into the wind and crack it open overnight. Although tempting, I also avoid camping next to a creek when moisture is plentiful.
   • Double-walled tents (with a rain fly) are heavier and harder to set up, but provide excellent airflow to reduce the build-up of condensation inside the tent.
3. Durability:
   • Look for a tent with a robust and durable construction. Reinforced materials, strong poles, extra guyline points, and quality zippers are essential for withstanding harsh winter conditions.
4. Ventilation:
   • Adequate ventilation is crucial to prevent condensation inside the tent. Look for tents with adjustable vents and mesh panels to allow for proper airflow.
5. Weight:
   • While winter tents tend to be heavier than three-season tents due to their robust construction, consider the weight if you plan on carrying the tent for an extended period.
   • Some ultralight winter tents are available for those focused on minimizing weight.
6. Size and Space:
   • Make sure the tent is spacious enough to accommodate your party and your gear comfortably, although I tend to leave my bag outside. A little extra space allows for better insulation and storage.
   • Ultralight tents minimize the footprint to reduce weight, which makes for a snug interior. They may not be the best choice if you’re weathering a storm and cooped up for several days in a row.
7. Ease of Setup:
   • Setting up a tent can be challenging in cold, windy weather. Choose a tent with a simple and quick setup, which minimizes your exposure to the elements.
   • Use your ice axe and poles to stake the tent down. I’ve used skis in the past, but that means you won’t be able to travel efficiently when gathering water, wood or travelling the distance on the ol’ poo run.

Depending on the trip logistics, I have four backcountry winter camping gear options.

• A bomber, self-standing tent with a vestibule (Everest-type) for extended base camps, where I won’t relocate as often. It’s a heavier setup I only bring when the approach is short or if I fly in. I also pack a pyramid tarp (such as the Black Diamond Mega Light) to use as a kitchen shared among the group.
• A single-wall, alpine-style tent for fast and light ski traverses where I’ll be moving camp every day and carrying the shelter on my back the whole way through. It’s crazy light and easy to set up or tear down.
• A pyramid tarp shelter for multi-day traverses is a little more involved and less sturdy than a regular tent, but it does leave you with plenty of headroom. Best to keep this option for fair-weather camping. I can’t be bothered with digging the pad every evening after a long day of ski touring, so I resorted to a light single-walled tent.
• A snow cave if the forecasted weather is fair with little to no precipitation, which greatly reduces my pack weight. I don’t recommend this system if you’ll move camp every day. Digging a snow shelter is a time-consuming and sweaty business.

Winter Backcountry Sleeping Bag

Choosing the right winter sleeping bag is crucial for staying warm and comfortable during cold-weather camping or outdoor activities. Here are some factors to consider when selecting a winter sleeping bag:

1. Temperature Rating:
   • Look for a sleeping bag with a temperature rating appropriate for the coldest conditions you expect to encounter. Bags are typically labelled with temperature ratings like “comfort,” “lower limit,” or “extreme.” The comfort rating is the most relevant metric to most users. I typically use a -18C sleeping, a solid number for spring weather encountered in my playground, British Columbia, from the Coast to the Rocky Mountains. When the temps drop below the comfort rating of my sleeping bag, I sleep with my down jacket/pants and camp booties.
2. Insulation Type:
   • Down insulation is known for its excellent warmth-to-weight ratio and compressibility. However, down loses its insulating properties when wet, so it’s essential to keep it dry. Some models are now wrapped in a waterproof/breathable fabric (Gore-Tex) to alleviate this issue. Moisture will still accumulate within the bag, which is difficult to keep dry during extended winter camping trips.
   • Synthetic insulation is more water-resistant and retains some insulating properties when wet. It’s a good choice if you anticipate damp conditions.
3. Fill Power:
   • When it comes to down sleeping bags, fill power indicates the quality and loft of the down. I aim for a sleeping bag with a higher fill power (e.g., 800 or 900) for a high warmth-to-compressibility ratio.
4. Shape and Size:
   • Mummy-shaped bags are more thermally efficient as they minimize the air volume around your body, but they can feel snug at times.
   • If you prefer more room, consider a semi-rectangular or rectangular bag. I tend to size up my sleeping bag to dry moist garments and boot liners inside the liner as I sleep.
5. Weight and Packability:
   • Consider the bag’s weight and compressibility, especially if you plan on carrying the bag over many days. Down sleeping bags are generally lighter and more compressible than synthetic ones, which is an important factor when planning long-distance ski traverses and keeping your pack’s weight down.
6. Additional Features To Consider:
   • Draft collars, hoods, and draft tubes along the zipper help prevent heat loss.
   • Zippered vents along the side of the sleeping bag to free your arms for cooking

Remember that personal preferences and individual tolerance to cold can vary, so it’s essential to consider your specific needs when choosing a winter sleeping bag (i.e. whether you’re a cold or warm sleeper).

Insulated Sleeping Pad

When it comes to backcountry winter camping gear, the right winter sleeping pad makes a huge difference in sleep quality. You’ll find below some of the factors I consider when choosing an insulated sleeping pad.

1. Insulation Type:
   • Closed-Cell Foam Pads are lightweight, durable, and excellent insulators. They are resistant to punctures and work well in snowy conditions. However, they are bulkier and less comfortable compared to inflatable pads.
   • Inflatable Pads offer more comfort and are usually lighter and more compact when packed. Some models are filled with down or synthetic insulation, while others use a heat-refractive liner to reflect heat toward your body. I prefer the latter. It crinkles, but its weight for warmth is unrivalled for its packability.
2. R-Value:
   • The R-value measures a sleeping pad’s ability to insulate against cold surfaces. A higher R-value is better for backcountry winter camping equipment.
3. Weight:
   • While winter pads are generally heavier than three-season pads due to increased insulation, try to strike a balance of warmth and weight, especially if you plan on carrying the equipment over many days.

You can also lay a closed-cell pad under an insulated air pad to increase the system’s insulating property. It’s an effective solution if you’re expecting the bitter cold.

Insulating Layers For Camp

Layering is crucial for staying warm and comfortable during winter camping, as it helps regulate your body temperature and manage moisture. The key is to use a combination of different layers to trap heat, wick away moisture, and protect against wind and precipitation. Here’s a general guide for layering during winter camping:

1. Base Layer:
   • Top and Bottom: The reality is that you’ll roll into camp with some sweat on your skin. Choose a moisture-wicking material like merino wool or synthetic fabrics. This layer is in direct contact with your skin and helps move sweat away, keeping you dry and warm. Merino wool has anti-bacterial properties, holding back odours for those sweaty spring trips. I always slip into my camp base layers (warmer than my touring ones) once the tent is erected.
2. Insulating Layer:
   • Top: Synthetic or down-insulated jackets are excellent choices for mid-layers. They trap warm air close to your body and provide exceptional warmth when inactive.
   • Bottom: Down-insulating pants or a second pair of leggings can be added for extra warmth in extremely cold temperatures.
3. Outer Layer (Shell):
   • You’ll often encounter stormy weather when winter camping. Wearing your waterproof/breathable shell is essential to keeping you dry and warm. It breaks the brutal wind.
4. Head and Neck Protection:
   • Hat: A warm hat that covers your ears is essential to prevent heat loss from your head.
   • Neck Tube or Balaclava: Protect your neck and face from the cold wind. A versatile neck gaiter can also be pulled up to cover your nose and mouth.
   • Gloves or Mittens: Insulated, waterproof gloves or mittens are crucial for keeping your hands warm and dry. Make sure you’ve got a dry, spare pair of gloves or mittens in your pack for when you’re sitting in camp. Don’t get them wet when boiling water!
5. Footwear:
   • Socks: Thick wool socks are the best to keep your toes warm.
   • Camp Booties: Insulated, water-resistant booties with good traction are essential. You’ll want to get out of those damp ski touring or splitboarding boots ASAP.
6. Accessories:
   • Hand and Foot Warmers: These can be useful in extremely cold conditions. Sometimes, all the layers in the world just aren’t enough to keep you warm in severe weather.

Remember to adjust your layers based on the weather conditions and activity level. If you’re excavating a snow cave or digging a lush latrine, avoid sweating excessively. Moisture build-up within your layers will reduce the effectiveness of your insulation.

Cooking Systems For Cold Temps

A hearty, calorie-dense meal is crucial in cold weather. After all, you’ll be burning so much energy simply trying to stay warm, on top of your usual expenditure when ski touring or splitboarding. Owning a reliable stove that works in cold weather can make the difference between eating a hot soup or ice-cold chunks.

• Isobutane or propane canister stoves:
  • They are known for their packability, ease of use and low weight. It’s my preferred type of cooking system.
  • Canister stoves drop in efficiency in frigid weather. In some cases, the stove might not work at all. I warm up a spare canister in my jacket before use when the temperature plummets below -11C (with isobutane).
  • Some folks wrap a copper coil connecting the canister to the heating element to circumvent the issue. Apart from the obvious hazard of applying uncontrolled heat to a container filled with flammable fuel, it’s a clever way to expand the stove’s operating temperature.
  • You’ll need a separate pot to cook meals. Sadly, isobutane canisters can’t be recycled or refilled.
• Integrated cooking systems:
  • Originally known through the brand name JetBoil, the design integrates the canister, stove (flame), cooking pot, and, on some models, a windscreen to minimize heat loss.
  • Those systems are designed to boil water incredibly fast, which is exactly what I’m looking for.
• White fuel stoves:
  • While heavier and harder to use, white fuel stoves can operate below -40C, which gives them an edge in truly arctic weather.
  • The lengthy setup becomes a non-issue with a little practice priming the stove.
  • White fuel canisters are also refillable at some outdoor stores.

Since I exclusively rely on dehydrated meals when winter camping, I only need boiled water for breakfast and dinner. Throughout the day, I snack on calorie-dense foods while on the move. The integrated cooking system is my solution of choice unless temperatures drop below -20 °C. Then, I’ll opt for a white fuel stove. I also always pack some warm, salty drinks (i.e. miso or chicken broth) for dinner to replenish electrolytes and heat my core. It’s the one thing I look forward to when arriving at camp. Whether you can consider your meal part of the backcountry winter camping gear is debatable, but I figured it’s still good advice.

Long-Lasting Headlamp

Backcountry winter camping puts a serious demand on your headlamp battery. Not only will the cold dictate how much juice is available, but you’ll be spending much time at camp past nightfall. I recommend a 450-600 lumen headlamp that functions with a rechargeable battery and disposable alternatives as a backup. I always keep six disposable AAA batteries in my repair kit at the bottom of my backpack.

The post Backcountry Winter Camping Gear For Alpine Touring appeared first on The Uptrack.

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

Report from December 31, 2022

After a failed attempt at getting a particular line down Puff Daddy, Phil and I drove up the following day to conquer this convoluted route. We started our ski tour at the Rogers Pass Discovery Center and ascended the mouth of Connaught Creek. Only 600m later, we switched to the creek’s north bank using the winter trail that travels up the Connaught Valley to its headwaters, Balu Pass. The month was characterized by a heightened avalanche hazard caused by three persistent weak layers (surface hoar/facet interfaces) and a consolidated storm slab problem. We cut a trail earlier than normal up the Grizzly Shoulder to avoid travelling through the massive Grizzly Slidepath. This was a great choice since we wouldn’t have to deal with the existing, super-slick uptrack that typically gets chewed up by inexperienced visitors.

We broke trail as high up as we could manage. Eventually, we were funnelled back onto the standard uptrack. Thankfully, the 10-15 cm of snow received overnight improved the old uptrack’s condition.

After about 90-120 minutes, the trees started to thin out and eventually terminated into an open slope at about 2100m. I always get spooked by that one as I’ve had quite a few settlements while travelling through. Beware, it rolls into a steep, cheese-grater-type feature with many trees and rocks that could cause serious trauma.

We crossed the slope, making sure to space out and walked past the steep entrance to Rogers Run, another classic. We traversed under some impressive cliffs and bootpacked up a rocky crux to gain the top of the shoulder. From here, the terrain expands into a series of convoluted gullies with Little Sifton towering above all else.

In order to keep our route conservative, we choose to enter Puff Daddy at treeline (2200m) which avoids travelling through some steep unsupported slopes. The higher entrance offers a slightly longer run but tends to be more wind-affected and offers low-angle skiing. We ski-skinned across the bowl, traversing above the 1st gully that’s often skied out. After double-checking our GPS, we stopped to complete our transition for the tasty descent to come.

After noticing several tracks in the first gully, we descended the second gully that guarantees good falline skiing. The snow was exceptional, some of the best snow I’ve skied at Rogers Pass. 10-20cm of new blower snow overlaid 70-80cm of consolidated storm snow that provided a stable platform on which to rail out turns. We skied down the left bank of our gully which was anchored by small trees. Eventually, the shoulder narrowed and terminated with cliffs. We dropped directly into the gully, circumnavigating pillowy cruxes and a waterfall. While we didn’t see any avalanche activity, we had to watch out for our own sluff which almost took me out twice. It’s worth mentioning that Puff Daddy offers incredibly complex terrain that must be managed with care. Failure to do so could put you in a precarious spot especially if the avalanche stability is questionable.

We followed a large avalanche path that led to the highway. The snow was so good, we barely stopped. Eventually, we met up at the highway and sidestepped back to the Discovery Center. Looking back at the Grizzly Shoulder, we were in awe at the Puff Daddy zone. Even after 4-5 runs, I have yet to ski all the possible variations.

The Puff Daddy face is a huge zone. Each variation offers a different flavour, from pillows and gullies to steep powdery slopes and rolling convexities. Beware, it’s far too easy to be sucked into large cliffs and nasty pillow fields. It’s best to consult terrain photos and satellite imagery before committing to a line.

Route Info

6 h	945m	6.1 km	1330-2215 m

The post Puff Daddy, Rogers Pass: A Pillowy Goldmine appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: 1. Afton Southeast Couloir, Rogers Pass: High Exposure, 2. Swiss Couloir, Rogers Pass: 50-Degrees of Gnar

Report from November 26, 2020

Our day started at the Loop Brook parking lot on a moody day. Thin bands of clouds were swirling around the mountain tops, which made us doubt our decisions to go for the Ross Peak Southeast Couloir. Good visibility was imperative to assess the avalanche hazard from the ridge looming above the couloir. We would be spending hours trenching up the narrow chute, right in the slide’s crosshairs. There was no room for error.

We walked along the Loop Brook, carving a path through deadfall, old avalanche debris, and towering snow pillows, crossing several slidepaths on the Abbott Ridge to the east. As we proceeded up the valley, we scrutinized the east face of Ross Peak, looker’s right of the creek (where the Ross Pillows are located). We were searching for two things:

• An easy way to cross the gentle river without getting our feet wet.
• A workable path through the dense alders on the steep bank.

As our hope waned, we finally found an adequate creek crossing that would put us on the western bank, at the base of a manageable slope, although covered with pesky alders. Phil H., half-man, half-machine, forged a rather “technical” path through the alders as he climbed the east face of Ross Peak. We then traversed through a band of dense trees, requiring a bushwhack that would test the most patient of men. We emerged out of the trees on a planar slope connecting the east face to its SE counterpart.

The lower S-SE slope was a pain to traverse. Two deep canyons, carved over the years by meltwater, slowed our progress down to a snail’s pace. We manage a crossing on a high bench after a series of dicey alder-acrobatics, courtesy of Phil H. Finally, we could freely ascend the rest of the slope to the base of our objective, the Southeast Couloir of Ross Peak.

After breaking an exhausting trail through steep and deep powder, we stumbled across a large bowl from which we could see two of our options.

• Looker’s right: a narrow, straight, couloir with two obvious chokes, a frozen waterfall at the bottom, and a thin snowpack.
• Looker’s left: a wider, S-shaped, couloir with little to no chokes and a seemingly deeper snowpack.

We choose the looker’s right line since mother nature had already done the avalanche control work for us. It had already slid from top to bottom, most likely the day prior. While I was still worried about reactive wind slabs on the climber’s left of the couloir as well as solar warming if the sun was to poke out, most of the residual avalanche hazard had been dealt with naturally. On top of that, the firm bed surface that carpeted the chute would make breaking-trail on foot much easier. Just our luck!

As we popped into the lower fan, my jaw-dropped. This was going to be one hell of a ski. We spotted the frozen waterfall that had to be climbed to get past the first quarter of the ascent. Phil H. managed to snake his way through the ice while maintaining a solid foothold on underlying rocks. It turns out, the icefall wasn’t much of a hurdle, either on the up or down.

As we climbed higher, the bootpack was getting more and more demanding. the firm snow first encountered morphed into thigh-deep snow, just soft enough to punch through to the ground. The overhead avalanche hazard was always in the back of my mind, chipping away at my confidence. It would have been so easy to turn around, but we didn’t – we pressed on. At one point, we were trenching through tits-deep snow. That didn’t stop Phil H. from steamrolling up the 45-degree incline. This man has always downplayed his achievements, but really he’s a bootpack beast.

Finally, as we approached the upper quarter, the clouds parted revealing the couloir’s terminus. So close! At one point, the snow was simply too deep to progress. If it wasn’t hard enough already, we were punching through a stiff winds slab on our left. Phil H. was literally trying to swim uphill. Snowshoes or ascent plates would have been a must in this case.

After debating for a few minutes, we decided on dropping from here, maybe 30 meters from the top. Hell! We were close to our turn around time of 3 PM, the avalanche hazard was increasing as we went up and dense clouds had started to roll in the valley bottom. In retrospect, it was the right decision. As the bottom of the chute vanished in the clouds, we clipped into our bindings. 3-2-1-dropping!

The snow was excellent. Tossed-up powder over a nice firm base, perfect for railing down fast turns. Midway down, the fog moved on revealing the lower, more challenging section. With a boost of confidence, both Phils sent a booter into the lower half of the chute, skipping over a patch of rocks in the process. As we approached the bottom, we maneuvered over the frozen waterfall without trouble and raced past the exit fan. What a run!

I suggested not following our uber-technical uptrack. Instead, we skied down the SE face and joined up with the standard uptrack that winds through the Elephant Trunk, a deep canyon where glacial runoff from the Lily and Bonney Glaciers meet. In other words, we skied down the SE face towards the Loop Brook as if we were heading to the bottom of the Bonney Moraines’ exit. We traversed the creek and followed the mellow slope down towards the Elephant Trunk. From there, we faced the usual early season struggles – running water, alders, exposed rocks and buried pines. Eventually, we crawled back to our vehicles, exhausted from all the bushwhacking. All in all, the day was very much a slog but I was still stoked to have skied the Ross Peak Southeast Couloir, a legendary line.

Route Info

7-8 h	1250m	9.5 km	1330-2290 m

The post Ross Peak Southeast Couloir: Steeps and Bare Ice appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Christiana Glades: Skiing the Old Growth

Report from November 18, 2020

Izzy, Mel, and I teamed up for a bit of ski touring (and splitboarding) at Rogers Pass, my favorite place of all times. With unseasonably warm temperatures, we would maintain a cautionary mindset regarding avalanche conditions. We had no clue what hazards were waiting for us up there, whether a thick crust would be present or new storm snow would be slabby. With that decided, we left the Rogers Pass Discovery Center at 9:30 AM with no expectations.

We headed up the well-established uptrack along the Connaught Creek, a busy artery for ski tourers and splitboarders. We quickly crossed under the Grizzly, Frequent Flyer, and Dispatcher Slidepath.

With temperatures so close to the melting point, we could feel a thin, breakable crust over 10cm of moist snow. As dense clouds engulfed the towering summits, flurries of snow started gently falling. Even in a storm, the sights here are still incredible. We veered off into the dense forest below Hospital Bowl, an open alpine slope topped by Video Peak, a common ski route.

The Hospital Trees uptrack was steep but manageable with good technique and moist snow providing a sticky grip. This section is the most demanding vertical gain when it comes to gaining the SE shoulder of Ursus Minor Mountain to ski the trees. A few techy switchbacks later, we reached the open fields of Christmas trees marking the base of Hospital Bowl.

We took a brief lunch break and looked at Ursus Trees across the valley. We skimmed through the terrain, looking for possible downhill options. We found three obvious routes where trees were sparser.

we broke off the existing uptrack which went directly up the bowl. With the avalanche hazard at “Considerable” and limited intel about our young alpine snowpack, we choose to avoid the set route. Instead, we toured up through sparse trees until we reached an open alpine slope bounded by a large convex roll.

Related: The Early Season Snowpack: How It Affects Your Winter

Climbing this slope was a risk. Convex roll, large planar slope, 20+cm of unconsolidated storm snow, you name it. We could have ducked for the trees at that point but I preferred to gather some observations before declaring this slope unstable. Our group dug a shallow test pit with the goal of assessing the stability of the upper storm layers down to a thick crust-sandwich buried 70cm down. Our test revealed a few unstable layers but no slab properties. Without slab properties, instabilities within the snowpack cannot propagate, reducing the likelihood of triggering large avalanches. After doing our due diligence, we proceeded up the sketchy slope towards the top of Ursus Minor Trees.

With seemingly stable snow conditions, we raced up the SE shoulder through deep powder until we emerged in the alpine where strong southerly winds had formed a stiff slab on the ridge’s crest. The visibility improved considerably during this final ascent. We wasted no time transitioning for the down… which was absolutely, positively EPIC.

The exposed alpine ridge was obviously scoured to hell, although Mel still found pockets of deep powder lee of micro-features. As for Ursus Minor Trees per se, we were the second party down the section. The fresh snow was blower, nearly bottomless, typical of Rogers Pass. The supposed crust was nowhere to be seen. Most likely, the spike of warm weather was too brief to form a melt-freeze crust in the alpine and at treeline.

After a thrilling run, we grabbed a bite and discussed our options. We decided to avoid the horrible bushwhack through the uber-tight trees right below Ursus Tree, technically the continuation of said run. Instead, we put our skins back on and skirted around the base of the Hospital Bowl to gain the entrance of the Hospital Gully which supported mostly open terrain. To our collective surprise, the snow was way deeper here, most likely from wind transport. I cautiously dropped in, testing the snow for any signs of instability. Everything seemed fine.

We maneuvered through the open gully and stumbled back on the Connaught Creek uptrack. From there, we plowed through ice and crust to get back to our ride at 3:30 PM. I didn’t expect anything from today but Rogers Pass still delivered the goods… as always.

Route Info

6 h	1150m	11.5 km	1330-2300 m

The post Ursus Minor Trees, Rogers Pass: Epic Glade Skiing appeared first on The Uptrack.

Related: Skiing Rogers Peak on Halloween – Rogers Pass

Report from January 29, 2019

The excitement in the air was palpable. We peered at the towering mountain range through my Honda’s windshield, scrutinizing our planned itinerary.

The weather was clement, the skies were void of any cloud. the temperature was set at a balmy -5C and the winds were minimal. The avalanche hazard was ever-present but manageable. What a perfect day for ski-mountaineering!

Exhausted from yesterday’s Mt Afton (2553m) climb, we organized our heavy packs at a leisurely pace. After much debate, Laurent convinced me to bring the glacier travel gear, consisting of the following key items:

• A 50-meter long half rope
• A harness with an assortment of carabiners, a belay device, a few ice screws and two prusik cords
• An ice axe

Eager to start the day, we slapped our skins on and clipped in our bindings at 8:30 AM, a rather late start for the 1950-meter climb awaiting us. We began ascending the short, but steep Hermit Trail, a summer hiking route.

As we gained the sparse tree cover of the sub-alpine at 1800 meters, we noticed the previous climbers’ uptrack diverted south from that of our guide book. Uptracks, Bootpacks & Bushwhacks by Revelstoke resident Douglas Sproul. The climbers opted to travel over a wide ridge, avoiding the convoluted valley to the east. While the established tracks were a minor detour, it presented a much safer alternative, minimizing our exposure to avalanches. It is worth mentioning a good 30cm of consolidated snow laid on top of a thick solar crust creating the perfect sliding interface.

After a magical ascent through the old-growth forest, we emerged from the trees into a heavenly white snowscape. The soft curves of moraines and odd depressions showed evidence of the ongoing glacial retreat, a process that began eons ago. The intense sunlight was reflecting off the perfectly smooth surfaces of the Rogers and Swiss glaciers, temporarily blinding our vision.

I was in my element. I felt right at home.

We took a 5-minute water break, gasping wide-eyed at Mt Sifton’s south face in the distance. In our typical ambitious fashion, we were already looking at the next objective, making plans for the future. We continued the approach up the Swiss Glacier, heads on a swivel, glancing left and right into the limitless expanse of peaks waiting to be climbed.

Past the 2500 meters, I noticed Laurent’s pace was slowing down: altitude fatigue rolling in most likely. With every breath, his lungs were drawing thinner air. Over thousands of steps, the minute lack of oxygen naturally started affecting his energy levels. His body was working harder than ever. It didn’t change his usual light-hearted, positive demeanour, showing a significant strength of mind.

On my end, the heavy burden of the additional glacier gear was taking its toll on me. My shoulders were aching, my knees, shaking. Our objective seemed within an arm’s reach, yet took forever to climb. Doubt filled my mind. Would we make it before sundown? I ignored the thought as well as the pain. We pressed forward, one step after another.

Nothing could stop us on such a spectacular bluebird day.

It took two laborious hours to arrive at the base of the south face of Mount Rogers. Rogers Col crowned the top of the skiable section, gale-force winds sending thin blankets of snow coursing downslope. After careful evaluation, the 45-degree aspect presented a few hazards. On one hand, we spotted a cross-loaded wind slab climber’s left of the face due to the typical southwest winds blowing across the col. On the other, the sheer rock face climber’s right posed a rockfall hazard, the lesser evil in our opinion.

We strapped our skis to our packs, grabbed our ice axes and proceeded up the steep face beneath the rock face, pausing every now and then to catch our breath.

100 meters from Rogers Col, a ferocious northern gust nearly blew us off the face. Laurent buried his ice axe deep in the chalky snow and hugged the slope, holding on to dear life. The sudden burst of adrenaline cleared any altitude-induced lightheadedness, granting us renewed motivation.

Things were getting a little more extreme.

After 90 minutes of strenuous boot-packing, we gained the summit of Mount Rogers… with frozen hands, frosty beards and an overwhelming feeling of satisfaction.

As the sun was nearing the horizon, we leaped off the summit. After successive warm sunny days, the col’s entrance was wind-compacted and crusty. My dull edges struggled to grip the icy snow. A perfect technique was the priority. While a fall wouldn’t be catastrophic, I would potentially slide down a 45-degree, 300-meter long incline at a neck-breaking speed into an icy plateau. I pushed the thought aside and focused on skiing.

We bolted over the Swiss Glacier, picking up the half rope that I had discarded at the base of the face. We carved effortless turns through 20cm of light, powdery snow. Even after the sun has baked the surface for hours, the underlying glacial ice preserved the ideal snow conditions.

With new-found energy, Laurent converted the alpine slopes into a terrain park, skillfully sending tricks off rollers and boulders.

After skiing through the freeze-thaw crust of the Hermit Valley, we reached the parking lot by 4:30 PM. The setting sun was casting a fiery glow on Mt Rogers. We gladly threw our sweat-soaked gear in the trunk of my Honda. We drove back to Revelstoke on an express mission to Nico’s Pizzeria for (you guessed it) his delicious poutine (with real cheese curds). I believe we have made it a habit by now.

Note: Big thanks to Rogers Pass – Uptracks, Bootpacks & Bushwacks by Douglas Sproul for the initial beta

Route Info

8-9 h	1900 m	12.5 km	1300-3170 m

Photos

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Related: Ross Peak Southeast Couloir: Steeps and Bare Ice

Report from January 15th, 2019

Due to its enormous size, the valley below rarely sees the sun during the frigid Canadian winter. Bluebird day, alpine temperatures at -1C, low winds, and a consolidating snowpack. We couldn’t have asked for a better day.

Beginning in the Loop Brook parking lot at 6:45 AM, we organized our heavy packs eager to start our day. A cool glacial draft was blowing through the valley. Fifteen minutes later, we got the green light from Parks Canada that the Winter Restricted Area was open. We clicked into our bindings and disappeared into the forest ahead.

Ski touring in Rogers Pass is no joke. We navigated along the Loop Brook drainage with care, paying close attention to the hazards on both sides. The near-zero temperatures coupled with direct sun exposure could trigger a wet slab avalanche on the south aspects. At the same time, the solar-heated cornices could fracture, which would cause an avalanche on the wind-loaded north face.

At 1800m, we felt very exposed. The valley was narrowing as we approached Ross Pass. On the right, we saw evidence of wet sluffing from yesterday. On the left, massive cornices on the north aspect of Parsons Peak, overlooking the valley. We sprinted across the 500m section, panting heavily as we arrived below the col where most of the elevation would be gained.

As we closed the distance, we noticed an avalanche crown just below the pass, spanning most of its width. This meant one thing. The unstable wind pocket had already cleaned up the face. Lucky us!

With renewed confidence, we ascended the col’s 55-degree couloir, ice axe in hand. Inuk’s big-wall climbing expertise clearly paid off as he carved a winding path up the chute. He staggered a few times as the thin layer of sugary snow gave way to his featherweight.

The sunlight blinded us as we scrambled over the top of the pass, thawing our frosty man-beards. After hours spent in the dark depth, it is one of the most satisfying feelings in the world of ski mountaineering.

Exhausted from the grueling climb, we collapse on a rocky outcrop, gazing at the endless sea of peaks.

We quenched our thirst with some electrolyte-infused mountain brew. We proceeded up the crusty ridge, battered by the previous storm’s winds.

After 5 hours, 1750 vertical meters and a 8.5km tour, we bagged the peak. The 360-degree view was jaw-dropping, recalling memories of my time spent climbing the French Alps’ mighty peaks. Laurent and Inuk victory danced to a tune while I video-called my dad.

We spent an hour at the peak, soaking up the sun and drinking hot chocolate from Laurent’s thermos. Now, time to shred the north face of Mt Green, a Rogers Pass classic! 

After studying the convoluted terrain far below, Inuk and Laurent shimmied down the eastern ridge to avoid jumping the colossal cornices. I felt right at home carving a few turns down the wind-swept face.

We traversed under an intimidating cornice, searching for a safe way down a cliff band. The clock was ticking. We had to find a solution fast. After a few harrowing minutes, Inuk located a “break” in the cliff. It was more like a rocky headwall with some sparse patches of snow.

In a classic Inuk fashion, he launched off its apex, landing a hair left of a concealed rock. Laurent and I wouldn’t risk it and downclimbed in loose snow that provided little to no footing. Halfway down the face, we couldn’t proceed further. We threw our packs in the snow below and leaped off a precarious ledge.

From our high perch, we could see the wide-open alpine bowl as well as the highway below. Eager to get back on our skis, we raced downslope.

My sharp edges sliced effortlessly through a mix of hoar snow and glacial blue ice. I could pick up the soothing clicking akin to that of a rattlesnake as my sticks stirred the sugary snow.

Once we reached the forested elevation, Laurent, our tight tree navigator, led the way.

Our quads were burning after skiing 1700 vertical meters of pure backcountry bliss. A top-to-bottom run at Revelstoke Mountain Resort for comparison. As the sun hid behind the imposing mountains, we entered a large snowfield leading up to the designated exit route. Looking back upon Ross Peak Path, we could barely make out our tracks.

We completed the 3km slog back to the parking lot as the dimming alpenglow gave way to a waxing gibbous moon. Laurent and I were admiring the beauty of Glacier National Park while Inuk was dreaming of devouring poutine (fries, gravy and cheese curds). To each his own!

We made it back to the car at 4:45 PM. Exhausted, wet and hungry, we slumped into our seats and drove back to Revelstoke, just in time for Nico’s delicious poutine.

Route Info

8-9 h	1650 m	16 km	1100-2650 m

Photos

The post Mt Green Rogers Pass: Skiing The North Face appeared first on The Uptrack.