After 40kms of avalanched road, 2 kms of horse shit roosting up behind the sled, 1 chewed belt, 4 creek snowbridges and an hour stumbling around in the dark, we finally found the infamous little hut. Nestled in the trees at the base of a glacial morraine below some big-arse mountains, the hut held the key to a week of amazing ski touring- we just had to find the key to the door.






While most people in the Pacific North West were losing their minds at the absense of waist deep snow to ski everyday, we were reveling in the high pressure and the chance to see more than a few turns ahead. Despite record breaking snow falls in November and December... and January, in regions all across Western Canada, some were still convinced that after 2 weeks without a major dump that there was no snow left to ski. We were pretty certain there was plenty. And it all lay right out the front door of our humble little hut.






Once inside we lit the fire, cooked and began drooling over the map like adolescents upon discovering their Dad's porn collection. We planned a route for the first day that would get us up high and cover some ground to just see what loomed above and around us.

Skinning up the next moring, 5000ft glacier runs, 10,000ft peaks, steep chutes, trees, pillows and pow revealed themselves from our vantage piont on the deck. So long as it was blue though, we were going to hit the alpine and bag some peaks.






For the first 3 days, we would break trail through boot deep powder up onto the glacier and snake our way through glassy seracs and bus-sized crevasses. Topping out on summits, we could see everything- Rogers Pass, the Bugaboos, Mt Assiniboine, Kokanee and a whole bunch of other giants. You might have some idea where we are now...

The evening of the third day, the clouds rolled in and proceeded to leave a few centimeters of dust. The next day, the fog persisted and forced us to stick to the sheltered, fluffy pow in the trees instead of the wind buffed alpine. We poked our way up through the forest and mist to find a sweet looking zone we had scoped while the weather had been clear. We yo-yoed awesome shots on numerous aspects down avalanche paths and perfectly spaced trees all day long and skied a 2000ft dream run right back onto the deck at the end of the day.






Everywhere we explored in this huge amphitheater of mountains at the end of some road you wish you knew, we found great skiing. And each evening we would fall asleep with horse-shit eating grins on our faces in the knowledge that buddies on the outside were skiing dust on crust and drowning their sorrows in the bar.

On the final day, we took it pretty easy, opting to cut some laps on 1000ft the pillow field directly behind the hut, before hitting a pow line we spotted a few days earlier. To finish off our exploration, we just had to lay some tracks down the last obvious face in the immediate vicinity of the cabin.






Long after the hill and slackcountry had been starved of snow, we were still getting face shots and stoking the fire. Who said there wasn't any snow left ski? All we had to do was load the sled with beer and food and just go see for ourselves.

So where were we exactly? That's not the point. You'll just have to get out there do some exploring for yourself.