Related: Burnt Knob, Revelstoke: The Perfect Macpherson Slidepaths

Report from January 13, 2020

It was a cold, cold day, but a bluebird one. My thermometer’s mercury spiked down, indicating -17 °C. Having grown up in Quebec, cold temperatures don’t intimidate me at all. However, when it comes to stuffing your feet into tight ski boots for 8+ hours in a humid environment, -17 °C becomes a real hazard. And those were the temps at 600m. The alpine was forecasted at -30 °C with wind chill. Since Revelstoke had been shrouded in clouds for nearly three weeks, it was worth braving the cold to get a glimpse of sunlight. And so, we headed up the Fingers, a popular ski touring area, after parking Simon’s Tacoma at the Nordic Ski Lodge.

I stashed my poles behind my back and performed aggressive windmills with my arms for most of the ascent. This was the only way to keep them functional. In the back of my mind, I thought of my big toes, not a particularly glamorous subject but a crucial one. After getting gnarly frostbites on both toes during my ascent of Rogers Peak, I had to keep the blood flowing. I had to keep them nice and toasty.

Further up the Fingers, we climbed a steep chute scarred by impossibly steep switchbacks. Our skins barely had enough grip. After shivering for hours in the cold valley bottom, we gained the eastern ridge leading up to the entrance of the Womb. The warm sunlight pierced through the sparse conifers. This welcoming sight was a perfect opportunity to take a break.

We discussed our options. The snowpack was relatively stable after the arctic temps had consolidated the dangerous layers. In our very active avalanche season, this was THE day when we could ski exposed lines. Hence, we decided to ski one of the Fingers straight from the ridge, a 45-degree chute leading into an open avalanche path. Deep light Monashees powder was waiting for us. It took no time for Simon to convince us. After setting up my camera, he led the way down the chute.

As expected, the snow was extremely light, one of the benefits of cold weather. We nearly sank to our waists at every turn, from the top to the bottom of our run. As Simon noted, these were probably the best conditions he’s encountered all season. I agreed. Cedrik was silent, as always, but we knew his wide eyes said it all.

We cut back to our previous uptrack, ready to transition for the climb to the top of the Womb, our day’s objective. I reached for my skins, but my numb fingers couldn’t open my backpack. Great! I resorted to using my teeth. Not very sanitary, but it gets the job done. Most importantly, I had to thaw my feet NOW. We bolted up the skin track in a constant battle with hypothermia. It got so cold that Cedrik’s skins wouldn’t stick his skis. He ended up securing the skins with a couple of ski straps. What a clever solution!

Once on the shoulder, we aimed for the Womb. I raced up in front of the group to maintain my body temperature – I’m particularly sensitive to cold. We maintained radio communication every ten minutes or so. I noticed the incline was ideal for placing a progressive uptrack through the sparse trees. Naturally, I caught myself stopping at every turn to gaze at the Columbia Valley. The views were jaw-dropping. That’s what ski touring Mt MacPherson is all about!

After two hours of ascent and cold sweats, we reached the entrance of the Womb. We watched a group of skiers laying sublime tracks down the summit. Surprisingly, the snow wasn’t as wind-affected as it seemed. With my ski mountaineering background, I wished we had bagged the peak. Unfortunately, we had to cut our tour short as it was getting late. In the end, we exchanged a summit for a waist-deep powder lap. I call that a fair trade.

Holy hell! This is now a classic in my books. How to best describe this run? The Womb is a deep ravine with towering walls on both sides. The skier’s left wall is divided by large clearings riddled with rounded boulders and stumps, perfect to jump off. As our previous run in the Fingers, the snow was equally deep, if not deeper. Again and again, the uber-light powder would fling into our mouths, providing us with a healthy dose of adrenaline and something to quench our thirst. Sadly, I’m devoid of photographic evidence. My camera’s battery finally succumbed to the cold. I was still amazed that it lasted that long.

Eventually, we reached the valley bottom, 1300m lower than where we stood 15 minutes ago. Let’s not forget the bushwhack back at the Nordic Ski Lodge through a sketchy creek. All good tours must end with a gnarly bushwhack!

Route Info

7-8 h	1485 m	10 km	649-2110 m

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