Local Shreds Do Good
There’s no place like home.
Back in Squamish following the Revelstoke mission, conditions on the Coast were starting to look a bit less grim, with a series of major storms and reasonable freezing levels filling in our local hills.
Game on!
I have a… confusing relationship with snowmobiles. They are expensive, dirty, unreliable, exhausting, noisy, high maintenance, and annoying to store, with a short season of use. They are also completely mind blowing in their functionality to access winter terrain in the Coast Mountains. Long logging road approaches through milder temps at low elevation mean that splitboarding from the truck involves a lot of type 2 fun at the start and end of your day. Backcountry skiing has become so popular that the “adventure” aspect of touring looses a bit of its allure when you are travelling to the finite list of popular areas that provide good skiing with reasonable approaches.
Snowmobiles are capable of transporting large amounts of gear for overnight trips, or for hauling camera equipment and warm food into the backcountry. I have experienced incredible adventures, and been in some spectacular locations, thanks to the utility of the snow pony. Although generally not recommended due to a lack of options for rescue if things turn south, late day exits under alpenglow-soaked peaks and breathtaking alpine sunsets represent some of the more powerful experiences I’ve had in the mountains.
The concept of a snowmobile can seem at odds with the idea of natural preservation and an environmentally conscious backcountry traveller, but a lifetime of operating a snowmobile likely pales in comparison to the carbon footprint of long-distance flight travel. Major ski resorts cause massive ecological impacts on the local environment. Heli and cat skiing operations consume significant resources to bring powder addicts to their snow-covered Valhalla. Deforestation, big agriculture, and a huge mess of other issues all contribute to our dire environmental state. As much as I agree and support individuals doing their part in reducing their impact, we are at the mercy of our governments, including massive developing nations such as China and India, to put forth and enforce suitable regulations for industry, likely at the cost of growth.
Politically, I feel quite hopeless even here in Canada, objectively one of the most progressive countries on the planet. Our first-past-the-post voting system is antiquated, and I find myself begrudgingly voting on a purely strategic basis (The ABCs of Canadian voting: “Anything But Conservative”), instead of objectively looking at my local candidates, and voting for policy decisions that matter most to me: ones that impact our natural world. Sure I benefit from a 1% reduction in the small business corporate tax rate, and eliminating MSP payments. Legal dope is pretty cool. But the biggest mistakes us humans are making right now, more specifically in developed Western nations, is our lack of conservation efforts to protect our natural resources, and the devasting consequences of climate change. Although I’m generally a free-ish market capitalist, and have little confidence in the efficiency of government bureaucratic processes, this is one area where adequate regulation is absolutely necessary.
Snow machines provide a powerful and efficient way to explore our beautiful planet and local winter environs. I believe that myself, and the other backcountry enthusiasts I travel with, become more of an environmentalist with each passing moment spent in the wilderness. A culture of protecting these areas from commercial interests, maintaining one of the very few remaining accessible large scale wilderness areas, runs deep in our blood.
I just wish Elon would stop tweeting insider trading and smoking dope with Joe Rogan, and hurry up and build a half-decent battery powered snowmobile… Come on dude, you revolutionized both the space and auto industry, and even built a fucking flame thrower. You should be able to design a god damned electric snowmobile whilst taking your morning dump. I don’t even care if you make it look like that friggin’ Cybertruck.
Wow, this took a serious tangent… I guess sometimes I need to get creative in convincing myself of the value of snowmobile ownership…
January 9th, 2020 - My happy place: Upper Squamish Valley
The Squamish Valley is a magical place. Turn left off Hwy 99 just north of Squamish, and you are presented with access to a wilderness area that is hard to wrap your head around, especially when you consider it is only an hour's drive from the major cosmopolitan centre and 3 million denizens of Vancouver. It is a recreational paradise, with branching forest service roads of varying levels of drivability following the major river drainages that lead to nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Looking north, there are few traces of civilization up the entire Coast Mountain Range extending up to the Alaskan border and beyond.
No services, no cell coverage, no cafes or gas stations or even permanent residences once you hit gravel at the hydro station and wind beside the upper reaches of the Squamish and Elaho rivers.
Every time I turn off the highway and make my way towards the Squamish/Paradise Valley split, I am filled with an excited buzz, reminiscing on past adventures, or ridiculous festival memories at the Squamish Valley Campground events from the past.
Hills dont get much more “gnar” on the Coast than Mt. Cayley
We got in late, snow conditions were low, and it was sunny and beautiful, so we enjoyed a cold one under the imposing face of Cayley, was briefly entertained by Dylan “part Gore Tex model, part rambling mountain hobo” Falls (see below), and turned back home for the ride out.
Back in Squamish, we managed to accumulate a bit of snow, at least at higher elevations around the house. Nootka was also going through some serious withdrawal from the white fluffy stuff after Revelstoke, and I was more than happy to oblige him. He sure is one goofy idiot, and man do I ever love him… You’re mostly here to see photos of a derpy Goldendoodle, right?
Earlier in the week, I had noticed that the Alpine Club of Canada had started a new Squamish chapter. I had utilized a number of ACC training sessions and courses over the years, which represent incredible value if you’re fine with instruction from amateurs sharing their own personal knowledge, as opposed to mountain schools taught by ACMG certified guides. And as it so happened, they were holding an Introduction to Backcountry Skiing and Snowboarding that very weekend, and had posted in their Facebook group asking for an experienced splitboarder who would be interested in volunteering. I foolishly signed up before reading the itinerary, specifically the 6am Starbucks meetup time, though I managed to caffeinate myself appropriately, and ended up having a great day.
As mentioned, backcountry snowboarding is my passion, and I love sharing that with others. It was a great experience seeing everyone’s stoke level, I learned a few things myself, and made a number of great new local connections. The Red Heather meadows above Squamish is a just about the perfect spot for an introduction to this wild and wacky pursuit; with a ridiculously easy approach and exit, cozy warming hut in the lower meadows, and safe ski slopes that tend to be just too short and low angle to be worthwhile skiing. But I guess that’s just motivation to get back out and experience the full value experience of the steeps and deeps.
Feeling the karmic snow Gods appeased through time served with the uncomfortably early start supporting the blister-saturated ACC hoard the day before, it was time to collect my pow-dues. The following two days were stacked with superb snowboarding in completely adequate amounts of coastal cold smoke. The snow machines commendably demonstrated their prowess in the efficiencies of moving powder addicts towards their primary goal and purpose. My snow pony even had the decency to wait until she was back in the driveway before the throttle cable snapped, immediately transitioning from an incredibly efficient purpose-built backcountry machine, to a completely useless driveway filler with low-interest monthly payments.
C’est La Vie.
Sunday was forecast to be overcast and low visibility, with high avy danger, so we gambled on a trip back out to that same wonderful world below Mt. Cayley up the magical land of the Squamish Valley, to shuttle lap the famed “Burke’s Bumps”, named as such for legendary local skier Sarah Burke, who sadly passed away in 2012 from injuries sustained in a halfpipe crash. She was a pioneer in freeskiing, helping bring the Superpipe event into the Olympics, and an absolute bad ass. This skiing zone - also absolutely bad ass.
Consisting of a logging road winding up a series of cutblocks, when the snowline is deep and low enough, it makes for an incredible mix of lower angle to quite steep pillow skiing heaven, as the snow accumulates on the fallen trees and stumps leftover from the clear cut.
Say what you want about the logging industry, but they sure make one hell of a ski run.
January 12th, 2020 - “Burkes Bumps” in full effect
As always, the trip up Squamish Valley is a part of the adventure. We managed to recruit Team Dad, with new father Andrew C. and soon-to-be new father Sterling P. coming along for the journey. Sterling and Caroline’s due date was two weeks post, so a strict bi-hourly satellite message was a hard requirement for the day to ensure a hasty retreat was possible, to avoid the unfortunate situation of our whole crew’s demise as Caro systematically murders us all for being privy to Sterls missing the birth of his first born.
Team Dad - I assume Andrew teaching Sterls how to properly craft a makeshift diaper out of Gore Tex scraps
Fil demonstrating new and exciting ways to instantly coat $1200 worth of outerwear in road grime.
Dylan milking the moderate amount of new snow on the Squamish Valley Main FSR
Fil doing his best to wash off that road grime
Andrew C. demonstrating the Dad’s can still pop
The Squamish Valley Ski Lift open for business
It was a superbly excellent day, but apparently my sleep deprived offering to the Alpine Club had not fully paid out yet, and the next day I was treated to another perfectly acceptable sled-shred at an atypically deserted Metal Dome area off the Brandywine Snowmobile Club area. I’ll choose to forget the fact that it was -20 and the hand warmers on Sterling’s sled, which I had to borrow due to the aforementioned re-purposing of my snowmobile, apparently felt it was too cold to show up to work, on a day they were needed most. Besides some painfully cold moments, the day was filled with lap after lap of “best run of the season” moments, down a perfectly consistent grade of steep tree and open glade shots.
My hands were in no mood for camera time, and the crew was moving at a pace of top-to-bottom party shredding, that no further documentation was needed. Days like this I wish I was more consistent with the Go Pro… I did manage to snap a quick video though in the trees:
January 13th, 2020 - Metal Dome
My confusing relationship with snowmobiles takes on a new found clarity following days like these. I love the quiet solitude of splitboarding. The slow pace climbing through the mountains, the clean fresh air surrounded by snow covered Douglas Fir and Cedars, moving with a cadence lost deep in thought. But it’s hard to put into perspective the level of pure ecstatic joy that comes with lap after lap of sublime backcountry snowboarding. And for that, snow machines have the ability to bring that to you in such a way that is hard to downplay or ignore.
The local areas around Squamish, the town I call home, are special places to me, filled with past memories and future objectives.
Guess it’s time to fix that damn throttle cable.