BEYOND

Let the Good Times Roll

words :: Jon Turk illustration :: Lani Imre

Last week I was skiing my favourite backcountry lines. But, by the time this magazine reaches your hands, I will be on my mountain bike, on dry ground. I write about snow for the summer issue because every pedal stroke I take this summer, and every morning coffee watching the sunrise, will reflect those thoughts formed on skis.

Twenty-five years ago, when I was 51, I stood on my favourite ridge one winter afternoon as the sun was descending behind the peaks. One more run.

My companion suggested we drop a steep line on the backside.

“The backside?” I asked. “It’s late in the day and it will be dark by the time we climb back up.” My body agreed with this logical assessment and told my think-too-much-know-it-all brain, “I’m old, I’m tired. I’ve done enough for you already. Don’t be greedy. Time to go home.”

But my friend insisted, so I told my body: “Shut up. Toughen up. Stop whining. Give’r. Let the good times roll.”

I knew it was going to sluff. So, I cut a hard arc on the first turn, and when everything seemed under control, I dropped a couple more.

But the sluff was building, and I didn’t like the idea of pin-balling through the neck in the hourglass below, late in the day, when rescue would be complicated by darkness, so I pulled out to let it go. The snow washed past me, stepped down a little, and then a little more, and then, whoosh, it exposed a small vertical band of dark, ominous rock.

Voice from the ridgetop. “You okay? Good. Give’r.”

“What do you mean, give’r? I’m standing on top of an exposed rock cliff.”

Laughter from the ridgetop: “Jump!”

Body to think-too-much-know-it-all brain: “See, listen up. I told you this was a dumb idea.”

Brain to body, “Time to shut up. Give’r.”

So, I launched, got my speed under control, had a glorious run, and, of course, was home late for dinner. No big deal. et the good times roll.

Last week, I’m 76 and climbing the same ridge again. When we reach the bench below the crest, I can’t oxygenate well enough. I’m dizzy, disoriented, seeing double. Feeling unstable on my feet. Age is winning over determination. And today, the last steep rise is composed of ugly wind-slab.

Body to brain, “We’ve been through this before. You’re old, dude. This is stupid. Time to turn back and ski a mellow tree-line.” Think-too-much-know-it-all brain to lazy, whining, no-good-fornothing body. “Yes, I agree, we’ve been through this before. Too many times. But I’m the boss around here. Listen up. Shake it off.”

I take control of the dizziness and the double vision and with slow determination kick steps up the wind-slab to a limestone outcrop, where I get a solid stance. The snow above me is bulletproof for three steps before I can reach that thank-God, gnarled, stunted, windswept, grandmother, subalpine fir, rooted firmly into the thin, frozen soil. A fall here would be ugly. Body and brain are lockstep in agreement on this one. As long as we’re going to do this, we may as well not die.

I kick, and kick, and just manage the tiniest indent. “Enough to stand on?” I ask myself. “Enough, I guess.”

“No! ‘I guess’ isn’t good enough. Once more with feeling. Good enough to stand on? Or go home.”

I step up. Now comes the hard part. With one foot hanging on by my toenails, I kick the next step.

You guessed it. I made it to the grandmother tree. Gained the ridge. Didn’t die. I basked in the glow of the Devonian limestone peaks, compressed into folds by the heat and motion of the Earth; basked in the chill wind scuttling clouds across the sky; basked in the companionship of my pals and the anticipation of yet another glorious ski run in the mountains I love so much. The good times rolled on.

I’ve lived this fairy tale for a long time. And I still believe in it. To a point.

The problem is that I also remember that fateful time when my body won the argument. It was the day after the Ellesmere expedition with Erik Boomer, in 2011. We had been going as hard as we could for 104 days, and had skied, walked, crawled, and paddled 1,500 miles across the ice and the storm-tossed Arctic Ocean. We had completed the expedition. Mission accomplished. Brain had repeatedly prevailed over that lazy, whining, no-good-for-nothing body.

After reaching the village of Grise Fiord, we had a shower, ate a big meal, and went to sleep. And while I was snuggled up in a soft bed in a warm house; when my think-too-much-know-it-all brain had gone off guard duty, my much maligned, very pissed-off body snuck across the moat and stormed the castle. It shut the system down. Stopped working.

I’m not exaggerating. When I was in the Medevac Learjet, approaching Ottawa International Airport, the flight nurse radioed in my vitals to the trauma doctor, who then ordered the flight controllers to hold all passenger and commercial aircraft and give us priority landing, because by that time every minute counted.

Jump forward to today. Nina and I are about to pack the van and head south, to start biking. When I study my maps and plan our routes, that dizzy, disoriented feeling on the ridge runs through my memory. So, I’m finally thinking that it’s high time to listen to my body. We don’t have to fight all the time, dominate, jockey for position. We can work together as a team. As any good marriage counselor will tell a couple of squabbling partners: “Time to stop arguing. You must see the situation from the other’s point of view. Learn to cooperate.”

“Cooperate?” I ask. “I’m not familiar with that concept.”

“Yeah, well listen up. Time to relax, old man. Time to ride simply for the joy of each pedal stroke, each rock you bounce over, each glorious turn flowing along in harmony with your center of gravity, each languid lunch in the shadow of a pinyon pine. The good times can roll in more ways than one.”

And so they will.

Aiyansh Hot Springs in the Nass Valley, Nisga'a Memorial Lava Bed Provincial Park. MIKE SEEHAGEL/NORTHERN BC TOURISM

HOT & COLD

The Sea to Sky is a hot/cold-plunge paradise, and it always has been

words :: Tristan Jenkin

Despite what your Instagram influencer friends might lead you to believe, hot/cold therapy has been around long before cold plunges were popularized by Wim Hof and destination thermal spas and barrel saunas dotted your social feeds. And while pairing a sauna with a hole in the ice is the hottest (or is it coolest?) trend in the wellness space, the hot/cold combo is actually an ancient wellness ritual that has been practiced for thousands of years by many cultures around the world, including right here in the Coast Mountains.

From Korean hanjeungmak saunas to Japanese mushi-buro sweat baths to the El Temazcal ceremonies of Central America, ancient cultures have long embraced exposure to hot and cold temperatures with a common purpose: to relax, cleanse and purify the mind, body, and spirit, and to foster deeper levels of connection within the community.

Closer to home, the nupika wu’u (hot mineral waters) at Ainsworth hot springs near Creston, BC, have always been a therapeutic joy to the Ktunaxa peoples, while to the north, in the Nisga’a territory of the Nass Valley, Hlgu Isgwit /Aiyansh hot springs are recognized as a culturally significant, designated heritage site. Known as the dwelling place of Sbi Naxnok, a supernatural being, the strong sulfur odour emitted from the pools is said to be the scent of this spirit. The hot waters of Hlgu Isgwit vent from 55 to 58 degrees Celsius with plenty of chilly water options to facilitate a hot/cold cycle.

And that hot/cold cycle is where the magic happens. Undertaken as a four-step ritual, the cycle can be practiced alone or with others, at home, in nature, or in a spa built specifically for the experience. When practiced during a gathering of friends, family, or co-workers, a hot/cold cycle serves as a healthy social lubricant stimulating conversation and connection without the need for alcohol, drugs, or canned EDM music that sounds like someone put two and a half pairs of tennis shoes in the clothes dryer. It’s a new take on social gatherings with an emphasis on healthy vibes, that will leave you feeling great and totally blissed out.

TOP Step one: Hot. Aika Spa, Squamish Valley. MIDDLE Step 2: Cold. Aika/Squamish. BOTTOM Step 3: Rest. Floating spa, Clayoquot Sound. TOFINO RESORT & MARINA HOT Begin with 10-20 minutes in a sauna, hot tub, hot spring, or steam room. Allow the heat and humidity to penetrate deeply, awakening the mind and body, and invoking an adaptive physiological response.

COLD Transition out of the heat and into the cold. Breathing deeply and with intention, following the cadence of your breath, immerse yourself slowly up to your neck, in a calm and controlled environment. This can be done using a cold shower or by plunging into a safe body of water. Research shows the transition from hot to cold delivers the most benefits around the three-minute mark, however, the duration of time spent in the cold is based entirely on personal preference and experience. A quick dip is still very beneficial (and you may choose to challenge yourself to stay longer next time).

REST After the exhilaration of the hot and cold, you will feel a sense of euphoria and deep relaxation. This is a time for stillness, conscious breath, and a push towards a deeper human connection—with yourself or others. Spend ten to 15 minutes and then…

REPEAT Repeating the cycle three or four times will maximize health benefits and leave your mind and body feeling fresh and reinvigorated.

“Hot and cold therapy is a simple yet profound form of medicine,” says Squamish-based naturopath Dr. Lyndsey Zigar. “It reconnects us with our breath and activates our innate healing abilities. These practices have transformed my energy, recovery, vitality, and overall resilience.”

In multiple studies collected in the National Library of Medicine in Bethesda, Maryland, researchers have found hot/cold therapy beneficial for a number of maladies that often plague highly active, stressed, or overwhelmed individuals. These benefits include a boost to the immune system, improved heart health, increased cardiovascular performance, improved sleep, reduced muscular pain, and an enhanced ability to manage stress. And these are only the benefits scientists and doctors can quantify—anecdotal evidence from long-time practitioners offers a much longer list.

Here in Sea to Sky, there are plenty of options to unlock the benefits of hot/cold therapy. It can be as simple as turning the knob on your morning shower to cold for 30 seconds, or as intentional as having a private mobile spa show up for your birthday. There are also a number of natural hot springs in the Pemberton volcanic belt (Editor’s Note: we will not be naming any of them, nor giving their GPS locations. Sorry!). It is said that the In-SHUCK-ch and St’át’imc people used the hot and cold springs for healing and cleansing, and a place where elders trained men to be chiefs, watchmen, and other important roles.

No matter where or how you practice hot/cold therapy, don’t forget the third step—rest, relax, and breathe in the essence of nature, allowing your mind and body to find balance in an ancient form of medicine that’s been practiced since time immemorial. Enjoy the journey.

Tristan Jenkin is founder of AIKA, the Sea to Sky's first and only private spa experience, and has been a devout practitioner of hot/cold therapy locally since 2009. aikaspa.ca