The Gwendolyn-aitor- A Backcountry Skiing Experience
By: Gwendolyn Parker
Anyone who downhill skis is familiar with the pure joy that is champagne powder. The feeling of floating on a cloud, making effortless turns, and having the snow kick up over your head. These folks are also familiar with the battle they must fight at a ski resort to be the one to cut tracks on a run with fresh snow. Long lines, people yelling, waiting forever for lifts to open, trying to tighten up your boots on the tram, finally getting to the top and racing to clip in before everyone else. All that work and you get one perfect, fresh run. After that, the rest of the day is tracked out ruts and hunting for powder stashes in tight trees and dead fall. So, what gives?
Well, the backcountry of course! No lines, endless slopes of pristine untouched powder just waiting for that squiggly line to be painted on them.
A day of backcountry skiing goes something like this… Wake up at 3 am to get to the parking lot before sunrise. When you get there, fire up the snowmobiles and let them warm up while you put on your layers, pack your backpack, test your beacon, and strap on your boots. When everything is ready and you are all tucked into your snow gear, it is time to strap the skis onto the sleds and head down the closed, snow-covered highway, in the dark.
We always knew where we were going, we had spent so much time exploring that area and studying terrain maps to find the best places. We had names for places usually just according to landmarks nearby, but one first descent I had the pleasure of claiming, is now the Gwendolyn-aitor.
Let’s say this is the day the Gwendolyn-aitor earned its name. The sun is rising as we reached the base of the run. We unload our skis, put on the skins, clip into our bindings with a free heel, and start the climb. It’s a long grueling climb and even though it is maybe 10 degrees out you have stripped to your base layers and snow pants within 20 minutes. It’s such an amazing feeling to be so hot when it is so cold, and to be walking through such a beautiful almost dream world.
When we get to the top, the sky is pink and orange, the trees are all white, and there is a snow base with lots of sugary fresh powder on top. The air feels so clean, crisp, and refreshing it’s like you’re in an actual winter wonderland. Now it is time to take off the skins, clip my bindings and boots into ski mode, and strap the go-pro on my helmet because it’s my turn to go first.
We have tested the snowpack and we know we are making safe decisions. We all have been educated in avalanche safety and rescue, and we know where the safest places are; but, still I can’t help but stand at the top of the run, ready to ski, and reflect on the what ifs. What if this slope slides? What if –
And I drop. As I wind down a big open ridge while the snow quietly bellows up beneath me, I forget my fears. I then make my way into the trees and approach the 15 foot mandatory drop off a rock ledge. I land it. I float through my last few turns and come to a cushiony stop at the base of the run. Euphoria, at its finest, is the only word to describe it.
My friends made their descents and they felt the same way. We were all so happy and alive, we did the run as many times as we could convince our legs to hike it.
When the sun starts to set, we get back on the snowmobiles and head back to the truck. As we drive off the mountain we are all quiet as our muscles start to tense up and we realize we are dog tired. We are young, and we manage to go get burgers and beer and soak in the hot springs before getting the best sleep of our lives. Until next time of course.
