Sometimes you get what you get, and upon passing through Mt. Fernie Provincial Park we weren't sure what we had. With a few parked cars and no sign of an Island Lake Lodge infrastructure, the remote snow-lot didn't build a lot of one's confidence. As we staged our gear for the 5pm pickup, two state-of-the-art 12 passenger ILL Snowcats emerged out of the forest; presenting the first sign that our intended adventure was really going to happen.
As my long-time ski buddies, Eric and Marilyn, and I piled our overnight ski gear into the front loader box of Cat 2, extreme skiing pioneer Scot Schmidt jumps out of the adjacent machine. Apparently Scot had just finished a stint with clients under his business venture 'Going with a Pro'. In the mid-nineties Schmidt and snowboarding legend Craig Kelly had partnered with some 28 Island Lake investors to secure the Lodge's longevity and its unique mountain experience. Helping to define its destiny, Schmidt's return to the Lodge before our eyes foreshadowed that something special was about to happen.
Jumping into the cab with our cat driver, Russ, I hear the local's perspective as we make our 10k approach to the Lodge. Unlike most cat skiing operations, Island Lake is close to the town of Fernie and logistically compelling as it sits in the next valley over from the Fernie Alpine Resort. For those workers and guides that are tenacious enough to secure a position, it means a near normal life for a typically vagabond career. After adventuring all day in the backcountry, workers head down to Fernie for townie living, and then return at 7am the next morning to begin their shift. With staff tenure typically cresting 6 years, experience and quality go hand in hand – defining job and lifestyle security.
Riding the I-90 jet stream out of Seattle, Eric and Marilyn set their GPS for little known Fernie, B.C., compelled to go there by rumors of unchallenged powder stashes and abundant adventure alternatives. Nine visually entertaining hours later we land in the darkness of the Alpine Resort under heavy overcast skies; unable to make out much of anything except that we had arrived.
Two weeks have gone by since the nation’s elite sprinters, skate and classical skiers, competed at the Official 2009 US Cross Country Ski Championships (Dec. 31-Jan. 9th) in Anchorage, Alaska. Around 500 competitors made the journey in hopes of realizing their athletic dreams at arguably the most important domestic races of the season.
Given the timing and proximity to the 2010 Vancouver Olympics, the Nationals would typically be the final punctuation in helping U.S. coaches determine who makes the U.S. Olympic team, but last weekend (Jan. 16-17th) there was one more event that could impact the results of hopefuls.
Providing the perfect final tune-up, the Methow Valley USSA Super Tour offered one last chance to lay down on the line years of focused training before the world descends on Vancouver for the 2010 Olympics. The Methow stop, one of eight in a nationwide race circuit, that provides skiers the opportunity to compete for cash prizes and series points; with the many complexities involved in choosing the U.S. team — the fact that the Olympics are in Canada this year opens up the possibility for a larger contingent from the U.S. team, the Methow race could be what puts some skiers over the top for getting the nod.
“We kind of lucked out securing this date,” MVSTA event director Kristen Smith said. “This is the last time the athletes will do a major race before they start to taper and get ready for (the Olympics). “The team will be chosen primarily on Monday (Jan. 18),” Smith said
Leading Saturday's sprinting charge, two-time Olympian Torin Koos of Leavenworth, Wa. put his signature on the race while mixing it up with other hopefuls such as 2006 U.S. Olympians Leif Zimmerman and Chris Cook, 2006 Canadian Olympian Drew Goldsack, Kenyan Olympic hopeful Philip Boit, and Iranian Olympic hopeful Beejan Kangaloo.
"The thing to remember when traveling is that the trail is the thing. Travel too fast and you miss all you are traveling for." Louis L'Amour.
Rolling up to the Cub Creek Trailhead, our Fab-Five of mixed ability XC skiers are locked into finding the meaning of life by removing all the clutter. As Phil loads the hauling sled with up to 300lbs of everything imaginable, we throw in our stripped down packs (like three quarters of those who have gone before) in order to move free and feel the flow. For Jessi and Matt, who are XC skiing newbie's, it's hoped that keeping the weight off their back will minimize the "Agony of Defeat" as we skate the 10km and 2000' vertical to our destination, the Rendezvous Hut. An original from the '80s, upgrades and improvements in recent years make it the perfect Refugio for our relaxed pace, and for filling our lungs with the crystal clean air of our mountain crossing. One of five evenly spaced huts, the Rendezvous with its pinnacle perspective is located 8 kilometers (5 miles) apart from the others along a 37 kilometers (21 miles) matrix of groomed trails.
In 1970 I was a high school student in Seattle when I first saw Dick Barrymore’s The Performers, a film about five skiers traveling the country in a van on the edge of a new style of skiing. It made such a huge impression on me that in 1972 I schemed my way to Sun Valley, and turned my college education upside down by taking winters off. All I wanted to do was live that vagabond life in front of the camera.
Three years later, through a bit of luck and good timing, I was living the dream as a member of the K2 Team. Along with Jim Stelling, Stan Larsen, Jim Garrison, Mike Grazier, and Wayne Wong, I strutted my stuff in Assignment K2, Barrymore’s sequel to The Performers.
We toured Europe for a month with Jean Claude Killy, an experience I would re-live in a heartbeat.
Stelling, Bob Burns, and Corky Fowler were my heroes back then, but no one made an impression on me like Wayne Wong.
As Skiing magazine's 1972 Freestyler of thee year, he was the poster child of the emerging hot-dog attitude. I remember standing at the top of Round House in Sun Valley, at my first Chevy contest in ’72, watching everyone flipping around and doing their tricks, and then Wong showed up. He had an aura about him. A year earlier he had taken third place at the Waterville National Exhibition, and his image—the white glasses and toothy grin, deeply tanned face, black mop of hair—was everywhere, in magazines and even in a nationally aired Pepsi commercial. I snatched an opening and jumped on the T-bar with him to learn all his secrets. Nearly 40 years later I still have questions for the man behind those mirrored lenses.
On April 16, 2009, Wong was inducted into the Canadian Ski Hall of Fame for his impact on skiing culture. Not too shabby for a kid from Vancouver, BC who loved to ski but had no idea what he wanted to do with his life.
GORDY: So you're actually Canadian...
Oh man, this sucks! I haven't thrown a full load on my back in years, and now I'm paying the price in mental anguish that feels totally terminal. I keep shifting my pack, in which I've tossed out all but the lightest essentials, to minimize the slicing into my shoulders. With some 7 miles of bare White River Trail before us it's unavoidable--my skis and boots are strapped onto my five day load for full effect.
It's counter intuitive. As a habit I resist carrying ski gear. By design they're meant to be on my feet - not the back, and to do so I might as well throw in a couple of rocks for good measure. Focusing on the end game, I endure the pain knowing that the traveling gain will be justified. In fact, that's the point of our venture into the Dakobed Range. Skis, like a rope - ice axe - foot crampons make traverses possible when otherwise it might not be. They provide lateral and vertical leverage; allowing distance to flow unconstrained along the mountain spine. Marcel Kurz, who pioneered the Chamonix-to-Zermatt Haute Route in 1911, wrote, "In the high mountains the ski ceases to be a plaything. Circumstances make it a tool--the most useful aid to the winter mountaineer--but a simple tool intended to make traveling easier--something which we put on or take off like crampons and which is only a means to an end."
As I break out of the trees onto the frozen surface of Rainy Lake my spirit soars with the opening view. It feels good to be out. The muted light that display's eye catching shadows, shapes and lines is captivating, and super surreal. I'm encouraged to shift my up hill mode into touring casual.
After a couple of storm cycles it's certain that epic powder stashes await throughout the high mountain reaches, but the perfect March temps and longer days have highlighted the buena vistas, and the call to slow the pace is in order.
Before we left the Zermatt Heli-pad Barrymore gave us our only instructions for the day, "Don't lose a ski". "If you do the day will be lost." As I wait my turn at a run before the camera his words reverberate in my ears. My anxiety about skiing these high glaciers of the Monte Rosa (Europe's second highest, 15,203 ft (4,634 m)) is particularly peaked. I've never traversed in this realm of massive seracs and bottomless crevasses before, and I don't want to screw up now for a number of reasons. Dick and his camera second, Kenny, have positioned themselves out of view around the corner of a huge angular block. My job is simple, blast into sight kicking up snow everywhere for effect, find their location, and ski right at the camera. I get the call and I let 'em rip. As I round the serac I spot the powder stash between us and make the most of it. However, glaciers are ice and a hidden chunk heat-seeks my ski, suddenly launching me sideways. Geez!! In an instant it's chaos! All I can think about is please don't let it end here, as I stare bug-eyed into the black abyss of an impending crevasse. Back pedaling, I hate to admit; I close my eyes and wait for my fate. After what seems like an eternity I open them slowly. Lying on my back in a medium size wind scoop, I stare up at Barrymore and the others in disbelief. Dick shrugs a shoulder and directs me, "Can you do that again, but just don't cut the serac so close" "I lost you in the shot". Yeah, right! At least I didn't lose a ski.
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