Pandemic in Paradise - Prologue
The world feels like a drastically different place today, compared to the day of my last post on January 26th, 2020.
On that day, a novel Coronavirus, later called Covid-19, was an interesting but distant news story. A total of 56 million people in cities across the Hubei province of China had been placed under lockdown, and Hong Kong shut the doors to its local Disneyland. The global death toll was 56, with a total of 2,000 cases confirmed, with the first cases being reported outside of China in the US, Taiwan, Thailand, Japan, and South Korea.
Three days earlier, on January 23rd, the WHO declared that the outbreak “did not yet constitute a public emergency of international concern”, and there was “no evidence of the virus spreading between humans outside of China”.
Well… shit.
At that time, it was insignificant enough that it wasn’t worth a mention in any of my writing, though I remember being profoundly fascinated but the fact that China was able to impose such draconian measures of control over their population when they completely locked down the city of Wuhan, population 11 million. Today, less than two months later on March 25th, 2020, with four hours notice, India announced a complete ban on leaving home for all 1.3 billion residents of the country over the next 21 days.
Canada maintains a more trustful approach, shuttering high risk businesses, recommending social distancing, though fines and the criminalization of defying imposed quarantine rules are becoming commonplace.
The total case count, likely significantly underreported, currently sits at 462,781 with 3,290 in Canada. Globally, there have been 20,896 deaths, a similar number to that caused by influenza in a recent typical year.
Due to the warranted closure of many businesses, the collapse of global tourism and air travel, and a poorly timed price war between the Saudis and Russia in oil market, there have been massive impacts to the economy. Current projections in the US show a spike to 20-30% unemployment. Ski hills are closed, festivals cancelled, restaurants, bars, music, climbing gyms, parks, and professional sports are now shuttered for the foreseeable future. It is impossible to predict the cascading effects this crisis will impose on the world.
But, for me, by far the most devastating news has been progressing this past week. The overall community has been pressuring people to avoid trips into the backcountry, to reduce any potential strain over health workers overburdened by demands, and lacking PPE to protect themselves from the spread of the virus. The Canadian Avalanche Association will stop reporting on conditions in an effort to discourage backcountry travel. And later this week, there is a major storm rolling in with low temps, and I'm locked away for weeks dealing with a constant stream of stressful news, shifting global paradigms, American spring break morons, Chief-hiking ladder dipshits, choppy video calls, and fucking Trump tested negative from what could have potentially made this whole situation more palatable.
Seems like perfect fucking time to check out and go splitboarding.
I say this (mostly) in jest, and agree with the "just stay home" position being recommended across the board. I have Nootka here at the house, and targeting some more isolated spots to walk with him. I am extremely lucky to be in the position I'm in: business in my field will likely see a corresponding bump, as organizations expand their remote workforce options, along with the security implications involved, and I have a comfy house with a derpy dog on the edge of beautiful forest.
A veritable Covid paradise.
Speaking of paradise, and moving away from a topic that has been, and will continue to be, beaten to death quite some time, I have been busy since my last post. I returned from a fantastic adventure around Ecuador, culminating in an exciting pandemic-level escape back home. Earlier in February, snow conditions lined up for some incredible days of sled and shred, including a memorable mid-week hut trip with a tight crew to mountain paradise.
Feb. 2nd, 2020: The calm before the storm
Back-to-back solid days at Brandywine was a great reminder that it truly is an epic place for sled lap snowboarding.
At that time, we had no intention of practicing any sort of social distancing.
A sub-peak of Mount Fee
Cayley
My boy Mike Martinson was in between jobs, so we were planning to get out on a mid-week Duffey area hut trip at some point during the break. We decided to jump on the opportunity that week to do a strike for one of the smaller cabins, and chatting with Mike H. and Dylan F., we made plans to head out Wednesday midday to Pemberton. The trip started with some light drama when ole Master Falls went incommunicado as we were ready to leave, as he do. Holmes isn’t the patient type when it comes to anything keeping him from snowboarding, so he left him and started the drive to Pemberton solo. After Dylan finally emerged from radio silence, a few terse words were exchanged, yet in the end all was forgiven, the Canadian economy got a boost from a third pickup truck’s worth of gas now required, and we regrouped at Blackbird Bakery in Pemberton for provisions and Chai Tea.
All loaded up, with high levels of stoke from Mikey on a snowmobile adventure to pow town, getting his first solo rip on a sled since he was a wee lad in flatland Ontario
The ride in was relatively uneventful, and we even managed to break trail right to the hut. Dylan was bored of everything going so smoothly, so he smashed his sled and his brake fluid reservoir into a tree about 50 metres from the hut just to add that little bit of extra spice we know and love with snowmobile-related activities. We had no plans to use the two-stroke billy goats once we got to the cabin, so Dylan’s lack of brakes were immediately forgotten, to be dealt with on the return journey four days hence.
We arrived late in the day, so all that was on the agenda was to set up shop and enjoy cabin life.
Minimal recent snowfall, erratic freezing levels, high winds, overcast skies, and light flurries in the forecast, left us unsure about the quality of goods we were about to be delivered. But that’s the game we signed up for, and we were ready for whatever we got.
You’re not living right if you don’t find yourself lost in profound existential thought staring deeply into your splitboard binding from time to time
”For Love of Sport” became the catchphrase of the day. Conditions were what I would describe as “sub-optimal” skinning up and riding down the west facing wind-scoured aspect we started our day on. Hammering winds while constantly sliding down the slope on icy traverses made much of the skinning experience rather unpleasant, but this group was not averse to a little type 2 backcountry suffering, and we carried on with a twisted level of humour and good times were had regardless.
“Beats a day at the office” is another useful phrase to mumble to yourself as you are temporarily blinded by blowing ice crystals, failing to maintain purchase on an icy sidehill traverse.
Holmes, rocking a makeshift broomstick ski pole after his 11th collapsible BD pole exploded in his hand that morning. His stoke level obvious.
Dylan considering that if he just maintained radio silence, he’d be warm and comfortable at home
Fortunately, our second lap on an east aspect fully delivered. Visibility was shiite, the wind was hammering, but snow quality was great and we were treated to a long string of face shots right back to the cabin, where after a few beers and noticing that it was still only mid-afternoon, we realized we probably should have kept splitboarding.
But cabin life is a good life, and we did have some important tasks to do…
Woodmaster Falls gets to work crafting Holmes some replacement poles. With a nice special “touch” at the end.
After seeing what choosing the correct aspect would deliver, we were pretty amped for the next day, especially with clearing skies in the forecast.
The sun cryptically illuminated a potential objective for the next day.
We decided to get up on top of one of the local peaks, hoping we would get lucky with the variable cloud cover.
Skinning got rather steep
Sadly, we did not get the clearing at the right time, but always feels good to top out on peak.
After a few hundred meters of survival mode descent, things opened up and the snow was banger!
Once back down to the lake, we yo-yoed a few more laps of fantastic gully farming to finish up a big day. Peaks and pow!
From blower overhead to the Grateful Dead
Another quality brodown evening in the cabin testing the insulation and HVAC capabilities, complete with night 3-of-3 of boil-a-bag Indian and excessive peanut butter consumption, and a few highly competitive rounds of Monopoly Deal. The next day was departure day, but with the cabin cleaned and all packed up and ready to go in the morning, we ventured off for our objective spotted the previous day.
Things started off with a steep skin in mature forest to gain an upper ridge.
Gaining the ridge, we were treated with clearer skies and beautiful views
Paradise
Beautiful section of trail breaking
That slope was steeper than it looks in this photo… I think…?
The upper south facing slope leading directly back to the cabin was quite literally wind fucked, and the east facing skiing that we skinned up looked to be all time, so we changed plans and ripped back down the way we came. It would only be a short skin back to the cabin from the valley bottom, and we had plenty of time. And besides a short section of gully survival mode at the bottom, the run was sensational.
For someone who enjoys both adventurous outdoor pursuits, and posting about it on the Interwebs, I am absolutely atrocious at maintaining a GoPro with a charged battery. So I have precisely zero minutes of footage from this trip… I’m including this awful cell phone video for posterity, as evidence that yes indeed, the snowboarding was top quality.
The exit was as uneventful as the entrance, even with Dylan in the lead with negligible braking abilities. These smooth operations don’t exactly make for great storytelling, but it sure is nice to avoid the all-to-common clusterfucks that often accompany these missions. I assume Martinson has been saving up funds for a snowmobile of his own ever since this expedition, as he seemed to enjoy himself immensely harnessing the small town redneck Ontario days of his youth, gaining a somewhat skewed view of how wonderfully efficient they can be for these types of missions.
And, as of the day of this post, there’s a chance that was the last snowboarding for the 2019/2020 season. Whistler has closed for the season, along with Cypress Mountain, both of which I had 2 day passes that went completely unused. Backcountry travel has become somewhat of a faux pas, now that healthcare workers are at their breaking point, and search and rescue personnel are not equipped with proper PPE to protect from viral transmission.
Fortunately, before the shit really hit the fan, I was to embark on an adventure to a warmer type of paradise: three weeks travelling in Ecuador that nearly became a fair bit longer…