HELI-ASSIST SKI TOURING

Whistler, British Columbia

STEP 1 A scenic helicopter ight to the top of a remote peak

STEP 2 Descend 1,000 ft of bottomless powder turns

STEP 3 Throw on your touring skins, drop a layer, hike back up

STEP 4 Repeat all day

STEP 5 Helicopter pickup at the bottom of your last run

STEP 6 Fly home for Après!

December 2

HALF MOON ISLAND 62.5884° S, 59.9215° W

The last morning of the trip, we decided to check out an old Argentinian base that had cables strung over entire buildings to hold them down from the wind—my kinda place. We cruised around looking at the structures and found some enormous windlips which we sessioned for as long as the relentless gale force winds would allow. Then we retreated back to the ship for a quick reset and the buffet lunch I had quickly grown dangerously accustomed to.

With full bellies, we headed out to a new zone made up of glacier ice and panels of corn snow glowing under the now clear-blue sky. All was smooth walking up, until we crested over the top of a ridge and were greeted by my favourite host, the wind. I transitioned fast, scared the gusts would tear my skins right out of my hands never to be seen again. Evading the howling fury at the top, we descended into some of the most scenic turns of my life, party shredding all the way to the Zodiac.

Heading home, the Drake Passage wasn’t as friendly as the way in. Waves crashed over the front of the ship like something I’d only seen in documentaries. I secretly enjoyed the sway, sitting at the bar watching new friends turn green and yellow. This was a trip I will never forget, like nothing I had ever experienced before—the wildlife, the ice-covered mountains jutting straight up from the ocean, the amazing people we shared the journey with.

Sleep didn’t come easy amidst the storm (and for days after returning home I’d still feel the motion of the boat when I lay in bed) and I let my mind drift back to Wihelmina Bay and the summit ridge where we’d enjoyed such good turns. That ridge, the most rugged and gnarly of the trip, had been the spot I was looking for—a place to leave some ashes of my friend Dave Henkel. Since Dave’s passing in 2021, I’ve carried a small urn with me everywhere—from Alaska in the spring and now all the way to the bottom of the world. He would have loved Antarctica and would have been the first person I’d share my stories with when I got home. Bringing Dave to remote places like this, having him along for these adventures, it makes me happy.

There is a rule about leaving nothing behind in Antarctica, but I knew I’d break it to help ensure Dave continued to be such a well-traveled man. I cracked open his urn and a flood of memories and emotions rushed through me as I tossed my friend’s spirit to shred across this incredible rugged land. For once, the wind was working in my favour.

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