Here is the trip report I posted on the TGR forums from last weekend's trip to Red Mountain in Rossland, British Columbia.
I ended up coming home very jealous of our northern neighbors and the wonderous backyard they have. Snow covered fields in every little valley, perfect for ski flying.
We drove up north of Spokane, and followed the Columbia river onward into Canada, past Franklin D. Roosevelt Reservoir, and finally into the Kootenay valley.
Legend: On TGR, my username is Bio-Smear, Erin is FrostedFlake, and "mags" are the members of the community.
************************************************************
Myself, FrostedFlake, ski_pdx, ski_pdx's wife Zoee, and non-mags Fisch and Leah loaded up ski_pdx's stud-equipped Lincoln Labiator on thurs afternoon for a 4-day mission from Portland to north of the 49th parallel, aka America's Hat.
Going anywhere with this many people in one car is always an adventure, but we were well equipped with road supplies like: All the junkfood I could stuff into my face in 9 hrs, a bottle of Kettle One, and a laptop playing The Hit List, Lost and Found, and Van Wilder. We drove all night and pulled into Rossland at 4:45am to a choice cabin belonging to a friend, just minutes from the mountain, muttering chants about wanting to dive into a beautiful lotus patch in voice of Taj, Van Wilder's indian exhange student assistant.
We import our own down-insulated babes.
Bluebird friday, we had planned to simply sleep in and explore this little Kootenay town and come to grips with the fact that even Molson, which is the equivalent of Bud Light, is $28 for an 18-pack. Stopped by the Rafters at the Red lodge for a beer, and ran into a guy packing Bro-models w/NX21s. Called for change and got a non-drug oriented reply from SnoBoy. Thanks again man for the hookups and beta.
As saturday rolled around, none of us was particularly excited about spending $60 each to carve cold chalk, so after loading up the Labiator to head to Red, we noticed some suspicious behavior mounting at the end of the street. We shut down to investigate, and discovered the annual Rossland winter carnival downtown bobsled race.
This was just your regular old friendly neighborhood bobsled race, with garage-built sleds comprised of dugout canoes, snowmobile fairings, chrome exhaust stacks for runners, and a variety of other shit that I wouldn't trust my life to while maching at 50 mph down the steepest straightest iciest hill in town.
I thought these guys were gonna die.
This team was hauling ass and kept it straight. They almost murdered a dog though when he darted out in front of them near the bottom of the course.
This team didn't succeed. It was carnage. The crowd would squeeze the course, then when a sled looked out of control, run for their lives to avoid getting skewered by a hacked off 1981 Kastle GS tip.
Well, that was fun. I was slowly falling in love with this tiny mountain town filled with funny-talking friendly folks. We needed to ski though, so we drove up highway 3B a little further in search of an untracked rollover upon which to build a kicker jump. This is really my idea of living.
Just as we trudged over the guardrail the sky opened up and some mild nukeage began. What also began was an almost Brady-Bunch-like sing along of the Juicy Fruit hotdogging commercial song, which I am simultaneously embarrassed and stoked about.
ski_pdx gazing wistfully into the foggy Kootenay distance:
Bio-smear and FrostedFlake tending to the inrun.
Leah eyeballs the geometry.
Kaboom! ski_pdx won the high(low?) mark contest for jumping into a christmas tree farm.
It's really a fine day when your womenfolk join in the kicker building session. Fisch, ski_pdx, FrostedFlake, Leah.
Fisch, slovakian master of the free heel pulls a 360 on his first drop.
Even our beloved and gentle-crazy Leah tries her hand at the kicker.
Fisch, fixing his tele leash.
FrostedFlake feels more comfortable with low altitude flying, so she aims for ski_pdx's face off camera.
Really the only place you should ever pull daffys is in the privacy of your own slackcountry rollover.
With a content feeling of not having totally wasted a day in BC, we packed up and headed back to our cabin. ski_pdx, Zoee, Fisch, and i snuck away for an hour to ride the free night skiing T-bar at Red and lay some hard carves on the creamy 2" of new snow that had fallen in the last 3 hrs. It was a fun pre-dinner leg shake out.
Rossland is the coolest little town. They were enjoying their Winter Carnival festival, and had a freestyle course setup in downtown.
Along with some casual volleyball. I love canadians.
The next day was only slightly disappointing, as the storm that had come through didn't quite produce like we thought it would, but with the cold temps in the last week, and 2 more inches on top, we figured it would at least be soft.
It turns out that the north facing side of Granite Mountain was the place to be...Sara's Chute, Doug's Run, Coolers, Booty Run, everything over there was tasty and a little deeper than I thought it would be. Red Mountain kicks ass, the terrain is so rad.
Traversing above Coolers to Doug's, following some local dude named Gerald that I met on the lift.
ski_pdx doing his frontcountry stoic pose:
Bottom of Doug's Run with non-mag and brief guide Gerald in the back right. I get terrible O-face when I am concentrating on my own personal glory.
hip steeze.
FrostedFlake (my lovely domestic partner) cruising down Booty Run.
Bio-smear on a high speed search for rocks.
Overall, a fun weekend with less skiing than I would have liked, but not all was lost. Never feel sorry for someone stuck in a cabin during a snowstorm with some attractive ladies and a deck of cards. Those photos didn't make the TR by decree of our legal counsel.
Jobs and real life responsibilities forced us back onto 395 south on monday. There is no substitute for quality company in a beautiful region of the northwest. Next time I'm bringing my touring skis and my own stash of Oregon beer, though.
Kootenay!
So I guess I have to head by myself a few days.
and it's almost closeout season.
My new tele skis are actually Scratch Brigades (formerly Scratch BC). My buddy doing the daffy in that photo has Marker Dukes on his.
