MtnBoy won a set of Faction 3.ZERO skis. These are an amazing backcountry ski that will straightline that couloir you've been eyeing from the chair, floats in the deep stuff yet won't kick you about in the park.







Add to that a set of Phenom goggles from Smith. The Phemon is uncompromising in its design, and packs superior technology and maximum customization into their best fitting goggle ever.






Finally, for added stoke over breakfast before a pow day, MSP has thrown down an exclusive copy of their new film, Seven Sunny Days. The special edition includes a book to complement the action in the DVD, with photos, stories, and interviews not available anywhere else.






My First(and almost last) Day

October 13, 2007

I like to ease into things. I weigh my options, play it safe. It is definitely not in my nature to jump in headfirst without testing the waters beforehand.

My first ski day of each season generally follows along with my tentative personality. I take it mellow, just check it out and dust off the cobwebs from a long summer spent far away from my skis.

My first day this year was so far from that norm that I am starting to wonder if I am developing a split personality. It went a little like this…..

Many drinks into a very loose evening/night/morning, we realized that we had partied our way into our ski day, the day we had been shit talking about all week at work. Not wanting to let down our friends, who were expecting a 4 AM pick-up to drive out of the city, we hitched up our man-pants and said good-bye to our fellow revelers.
A kind friend drove us home from the bar, where we made sandwiches and packed our ski gear (springtime mud on the boots and all). We picked up our partners in crime, with not a minute to spare. Driving duties were quickly delegated to those less sleep deprived, and we left Cowtown in our taillights.

Our mission: the 3-4 Couloir, a 3000_ft 45-50 degree line that towers majestically above the sapphire waters of Moraine Lake, near Lake Louise. This picturesque line was featured on the old Canadian twenty dollar bill, and has had more photos taken of it than of Britney Spears. Warm early season snow storms had set the couloir up in perfect early season conditions, and we wanted to capitalize on them.

We made it to the bottom of the access road eventually, only to find the road gated and locked for the season. Any chances we had of skiing the 3-4 were disappearing as quickly as the highballs were just hours before. Just as we were about to give up and go home (somewhat to my relief), a couple trucks full of carpenters showed up to head up to Moraine Lake for work. Through some bribing and begging, we hopped in their pick-ups for the drive up to the lake (somewhat to my dismay).

Our first view of the couloir coincided with the butterflies in my stomach and the distinct need to relieve my bladder. We shouldered our packs and began the hike around the lake and towards the snowline. I slowly got into the rhythm of things. Breathing the fresh air and being surrounded by mountains, rather than buildings, aided in the clearing of my head and the ability to focus on the task at hand. We quickly gained the snowline and made our way up to the base of the couloir. Snacks and water were downed, and with a deep breath, I started up the seemingly endless Stairmaster. Deep focus and alertness were now a crucial element in the safety of our group. Digging deep, I pulled it together and chased any lingering effects of the night before to the back of my mind.

Step after step, we inched our way up, snow conditions changing from refrozen crap at the bottom, to wind pressed crap, and eventually to well settled storm snow over the summer ice. Ice axes and crampons were the weapons of the day, and we finally crested over the 50 degree crux into brilliant sunshine.
We put off skiing down as long as possible, lounging in the sun and taking in the views. But, as they say, all good things must come to an end. It was time to step up and descend the couloir.

As we worked our way down towards the edge of the world, I tried really hard to remember what it felt like to link a single turn. I was starting to wonder if a super exposed 50 degree pitch was the place to re-learn my ski technique. It was right about then when the butterflies returned, the vice tightened on my bladder, and my hangover started to rear its ugly head.

This story has a happy ending, however. I completed that first turn (and the 400 that followed), we all had fun, and ended up safe and sound on the shores of Moraine Lake, laughing and telling stories.

So much for testing the waters first.