The ski lore of BC runs as deep as the snow piles high… and for the third year in a row, I found myself barreling down an interior BC highway in April with Jackson & Matt – truck full with a week’s worth of ski gear and Canadian beers – with sights set on a new (but ultimately not-so-different) ski adventure.

Following our inaugural “summit or die, boys!” Bow Yoho ski traverse, and a stellar week at the Selkirk Lodge, Christian had convinced us that a basecamp-style ski trip was the best way to experience big mountain skiing in BC. Despite our very limited experience with any amount snow camping… the “convincing” part took entirely no effort.

Arriving in Revelstoke

Our journey started between Denver, Jackson Hole, and Salt Lake City, but really began in earnest with a long-overdue rendezvous in the Seattle airport en route to Kelowna. The classic ski travel shuffle ensued, and we soon arrived in Revelstoke, rearing to get going.

We had a misunderstanding with some locals regarding the pronunciation of “Kokanee” (related to the aforementioned truck-full of beer…) but otherwise our entry went exactly as you’d expect… full of sake-bombs, sushi and mullets.

Christian had told us that some weather was moving in and that it’d be best to fly into basecamp a day earlier. The group agreed that it would be best to heed the professional’s advice, and after a few adjustments to our plans and a quick (but absolutely mandatory) lunch at La Baguette, we were off!

Day 1 – Basecamp

We staged our gear and met our pilot off of Highway 1 just west of Revelstoke. Christian and Matt took off with most of the gear to scope out the basecamp location. The rest of crew piled into a truck and raced to the La Forme Creek staging location on the eastern shore of Lake Revelstoke.

Following a very embarrassing struggle with my seatbelt (Eric, I swear I am cool & capable…), we flew up and over Lake Revelstoke, and then Frisby Peak, and then west towards camp.

Christian had decided to stake out camp in a spot about ~1,500 feet above the “actual” Frisby Camp that most parties use when skiing this zone. This was a strategic choice that would knock out a lot of climbing and sub-par skiing lower in the valley, but also expose us a bit more to the weather.

Once the helicopter was unloaded and our gear was accounted for, we got to work setting up our individual tents, the shared mess tent, and the other odds & ends of our makeshift community. This was my first time snow camping in any serious fashion and the amount of additional fortification was striking, even if not entirely unsurprising. Strong anchors were buried deep in the snow, guy lines were secured tightly, snow walls were built on the windward side of the tents and everything was double and then triple-checked. Camp was looking good and, importantly, the toilet – a plastic hardware bucket & ice axe (to hold the toilet paper roll, of course…) – was situated behind a south-facing boulder for optimal morning sunshine and comfort.

By the time the sun was setting, camp had been built and we were settled in for the night – eating our first camp dinner, watching the towering “Glacier Of Certain Death” catch the final alpenglow, and already falling deep into our (super appropriate and definitely repeatable online) group banter.

Day 2 – Shred Glacier & Shred Peak

Prior to leaving for this trip, I was warned that putting your boots on in the morning is the worst part of ski camping. Fortunately, relatively dry weather and my epic Zipfit GFTs (which I absolutely adore…. please sponsor me…) made for a mostly painless morning, although I did almost yak whilst using the poop bucket for the first time…

Anyways… we had our breakfast, geared up, de-briefed our plan for the day, and set off. It had gotten quite warm over the past several days, but we hoped to find some dry snow on the high-elevation polar aspects of Shred Peak (…not even kidding…that’s the name).

We skied down on a frozen crust to the glacial lake that sat below the moraine where we had built our camp, transitioned our gear, and started the climb. It was a true spring day – with a mix of clouds and sun – and during the sunny periods, there was no questioning it was late April.

We passed through the “Shred Bench” – a relatively benign piece of terrain that offers passage between steep, exposed cliffs below and the massive east face of Shred above – not somewhere you want to find yourself with a strong, warming morning sun. We moved quickly, and once safely on the glacier, we watched a few sizable wet-loose sloughs careen down the east face (though none crossed our skin-track). Good timing on our part.

We continued up the glacier – met with a combination of strong sunshine, driving wind, and pelting snow. The snow did seem to dry out as we climbed, so I hoped the skiing would be solid. We dug a pit and didn’t find anything concerning, the most recent weak layer buried deeply within the Monashee snowpack.

We gained and followed the ridge until on-top of a northeast-facing line straight down the glacier proper. The group was a bit split due to some faffing about by the usual offenders… (the others took off while Matt, Miki and I waiting on the ridge for some clear weather). We enjoyed a 1,600 ft run – finally skiing downhill after several days of travel – before meeting up with the rest of the crew.

After a quick lunch, we joined up with the existing skin-track and began the march towards the summit. The weather grew a bit angrier – with periods of ripping wind & snow – and the terrain steepened as we broke new trail.

The summit of Shred offered a mix of beautiful, calm weather that broke to sweeping views of Frisby Creek and our flight path from the day before… along with howling wind and snow with near zero visibility… classic!

We waited, and then waited some more. After a couple of false starts, we finally decided that the weather window had arrived, and we set off down the northeast shoulder of the Shred Glacier.

The skiing was steep and sustained (about ~1500 ft of 40+ degree descent) followed by another ~1500 ft traversing back across the Shred Bench and down towards the lake. I, in particular, struggled with a breakable crust that had formed due to the warming and cooling throughout the day. This would become a recurring theme throughout the week and it totally didn’t take a toll on my ego… (…my blame lies entirely with the copious amounts of Wasatch powder I had skied all season).

Nevertheless, the descent was an exhilarating adventure – a blast for some, a bit of a humbling tumble for others – and we soon made our way back towards camp.

Christian and Miki cheffed up an epic dinner (another recurring theme of the week… a much better one at that), the weather cleared up, and we enjoyed a great meal over the lingering buzz of a big day in the mountains with friends.

Day 3 – Schrund Peak

Skins on and spirits high, we started the day ascending the gentle south faces that rolled from Schrund & Eckorn Peaks down into camp. We gradually gained several thousand feet as we climbed up towards the base of Schrund, the morning clouds giving way to a mostly blue & calm day, a welcome change from our first day out!

Our straightforward & scenic tour gave way to some maneuvering as we navigated the final ~1,000 feet to the summit – which is guarded by cliffs & steep pitches of snow and rock. A short boot-pack up the southeast face granted us passage to the south ridge; an accessible and wide corridor with clear and direct access to the summit.

Once clear of the booter, we snapped some photos, shot off a few texts with the unexpected cell service we found (dozens of miles from any sort of infrastructure…classic Canada) and continued upward.

We quickly reached the summit and took a moment to enjoy the perfect, calm weather before gearing up for the long descent back into camp.

The southeast face of Schrund provided steep, technical skiing that required some skirting around & traversing to avoid a few small cliff bands and exposed rocks. Once clear of the face, we veered south and then west, leapfrogging one another as we arced speedy GS turns down a run named (by the heli-skiing outfits… for the record) “Wet Dream West”. It is not difficult to image how, on a proper powder day, this zone earned its name.

We came upon and navigated through a glide crack (some of us more gracefully than others) as we descended towards the valley bottom. This was a first for me, it was pretty cool to see one of these features up close. Once past the glide crack, the snow became softer & more-and-more corn-like as we dropped elevation and the heat turned up.

We continued down, following the contours of the valley bottom in the midst of this absolutely massive and epic landscape – thousands of feet of rock & glacier all around, resting on & below Glacier, Glissade, and Groundhog Peaks.

Back at camp, we took advantage of the nice weather to build out a bench in the snow – something we would enjoy plenty of in the days ahead – to serve as a lounge for appys and beers and tomfoolery. We hung out through the evening, eventually giving in to the encouragement from the setting sun & cooling temps to settle in for the night.

Day 4 – Mega

After a couple of nights in the tent I had gotten a handle of the rhythm and flow of basecamp… though the mornings were a bit tough with the limited sleep I was getting. Scouring through the photos post-trip, I found that Matt & Jackson’s experience probably wasn’t so different – ha!

In any case… spirits were still high, the sun was out, and it was time to go skiing. We started the day following the skin-track from the day prior – up and towards Schrund Peak. As we approached the base of Schrund we veered west to avoid the south ridge we had climbed the day before, and instead wound around back towards the west side of the peak. Here, between Schrund and another unnamed peak, was the Keyhole Notch – our access point to the Big Eddy Creek drainage.

The final couple hundred of feet were a bit steep and required a boot-pack, but access was straightforward and easy. We hung out, ate lunch, basked in the sun… a standard backcountry lunch break.

Meanwhile, Christian and Miki were busy chipping away at rock and ice in search of an anchor. The other side of the notch was not quite as straightforward nor easy to maneuver. A steep, exposed pitch of firm snow positioned over a bergschrund prompted the need for a rappel… but after a few of us were able to easily side-slip our way through the majority of the choke (while on belay), we decided to ditch the rappel in favor of speed and efficiency.

Once past the notch, we found ourselves on the upper reaches of the Big Eddy Glacier – the still-frozen headwaters of the Big Eddy Creek – and in an entirely new drainage miles from camp. Admittedly – with cornices above, cliffs & glacier below, and wind-loaded, steep rolling shoulders on either side – my anxiety was raging. While I had mostly staved off the nascent but lingering memory from the previous year’s avalanche, I felt completely out of my element in this massive terrain. Christian, however, is not only a legend, but also remarkably good at his job.

There was, in fact, a way through the cliffs & glacier below.. (provided you didn’t stop or fall on top of a crevasse). Christian disappeared from view as he scouted the line, and the rest of us waited for the radio call. A few minutes later, Miki got the “all clear” and we began our descent of the Big Eddy Glacier – an epic & delicate center-punch through the gut of this beast.

Once safely past the seracs and cliffs, we party-skied another ~1,000 vertical feet down the gentle grade of the glacier, ripped full of adrenaline, hooping & hollering all the way down.

We began the long climb out, planning to access the Frisby Creek drainage & our camp via Eckhorn Col, and also nailing the corn harvest on the south-facing slopes of Eckhorn and Schrund. Unfortunately, a stubborn wind slab prevented safe access via Eckhorn Col and we had to opt for an alternative (and much longer) route…

Alas… we set off towards Picnic Col by way of Crustacean Col (not sure about the names either, for the record…) The north face of Hat Peak – thousands of feet of exposed vertical rock – was an especially novel sight as we descended the 1,000 ft headwall of the Crustacean Glacier and then skated our way across the flats towards the col. I am not really sure if it’s possible to describe the scale and grandeur of the terrain we moved through, but I expect that “awe” is the correct term to describe the psychological and physical feeling of this experience.

While certainly no picnic.. ha! (particularly for me, as I valiantly battled my arch nemesis – breakable crust), we eventually made it to the base of Picnic Col and began our ascend. Although guarded by a small cornice, it was a far safer alternative to Eckhorn.

We could see camp from Picnic Col (a welcome sight after spending hours unsure of how we would be getting back to Frisby Creek…), but the day’s toils were slow to relent. From the col, we had to traverse across the south-facing slopes above the “Toilet Bowl” – a gnarly terrain feature full of steep glide cracks & cliffs – on a stiff melt-freeze crust that had formed now that we were nearing the evening hours of the day (… so many crusts).

While we were mostly able to ski, we did have to transition and ascend a couple of times in order to stay above the steeps and continue the long contour into camp. There were certainly a couple of gripped moments moving across the firm surface – this was not the place nor time to take a fall.

After more than 10 hours on our skis, we finally made it back into camp (and even enjoyed a bit of corn skiing on the final pitch!). Between navigating the Keyhole Notch, center-punching the Big Eddy Glacier, skiing the massive headwall of the Crustacean Glacier, climbing to Picnic Col, and traversing the delicate slopes above the “Toilet Bowl”… the day was indeed mega.

And, as if the skiing wasn’t exciting enough, the universe graced us with a show as we wrapped up dinner…

My first time seeing the Northern Lights – after an epic day of skiing with my best friends in the remote backcountry of British Columbia – an unforgettable moment.

Day 5 – Shinola Glacier

Following our big day on the Big Eddy, the crew was moving a bit slower on the morning of our fourth and final day of skiing. We enjoyed breakfast and jammed out to our techno-house tunes in the mess tent as the sun rose and warmed camp.

But, as anyone who reads these posts well knows…ski turns need to be made! After a bit of deliberation, we settled on ascending the Shinola Glacier (which also provided 2,500 ft of north-facing glacier skiing) as the objective for the day.

We began with the now-familiar ski down to the frozen lake (it’s incredibly frustrating that I cannot find, anywhere on the internet, a proper name for this lake…) beneath camp, transitioned our gear, and started marching towards the glacier. The toe of the glacier, with massive chunks of broken blue ice, offered a neat side-quest.

We quickly yielded into the (also) now-familiar skin track rhythm, under a perfect bluebird sky on this undulating, expansive glacier, up and over the Groundhog – Glissade col.

We enjoyed a nice long lunch on the col and attempted a ski to the south into the Jordan River drainage. After several hundred feet of skiing, it was clear that the sun and heat had worked the snow. With destabilizing conditions and steep terrain below, our descent was cut short and we quickly climbed back to the safety of the col and the colder, polar aspects.

We skied down the Shinola Glacier – a bit of dry, cold snow gave way to an increasingly stubborn crust and we eventually ended with a pitch of corn skiing. Relentless sunshine and endless blue sky kept the vibes high, and despite my ensuing & ever-present battle with the crust… I almost shed the ego entirely and simply enjoyed the skiing.

After the haul back to camp, a few of us managed to sneak in a final lap of corn skiing and then ended the day with some proper basecamp partying – no better way to enjoy the weather, revel in the great company, and reflect on that week that we shared.

We finished off the rest of the booze in the blazing afternoon sunshine, enjoyed a final dinner together under the evening sun, and then slowly turned in for the night.

Flying out of basecamp, Revy, and heading home

After we turned in for the night, a front rolled through camp and upended any plans of rest or sleep. Strong winds first jostled and later collapsed our tents, warming temps rotted the snow and rendered our anchors useless, and the rained soaked through our layers as we worked tirelessly to keep camp in place. Fortunately, after a couple of hours, the weather took pity on us and we were able to get a bit of rest. While the storm was strong… it could have certainly been much stronger, and I was left with yet more appreciation for and deference towards the power of the mountains and weather.

We woke up the next morning and began the process of cleaning up and breaking down our camp. A week’s worth of food, gear, clothes, supplies and yes, poop… was neatly packed down and secured ahead of the heli bump back to Revelstoke.

After a final meal together in town, the crew split and went our separate ways. Jackson, Matt and I had to kill some extra time before flying back home, as our week’s plans had been shifted up by a day or so – highlights included a waterslide at the Kelowna Fairfield Inn and even more sake bombs.

Skiers afflicted with an unwavering addiction to the chase of powder and adrenaline often find themselves reveling in the wonder and splendor of British Columbia. Yet, beyond the obvious fun, adventure and physical challenge… backcountry skiing centers my community, connects my spirit to the natural world, and frames my sense of self with hard-fought experiences, friendships, lessons and stories.

I, of course, am not immune to the sweet hits of this joy and toil. And I, of course, will be back!