ROCKY MOUNTAINS
All mountain. All day.
First tracks, full sends and every run in-between—spend your longest days in jackets, bibs and pants built to keep you out there.
Ambassador Tatum Monod
CORBET’S
DROP IN WITH CONFIDENCE. The men’s Corbet’s Jacket brings a relaxed fit and a 100% recycled insulation for freeride skiers who explore the entire mountain. It’s the waterproof and breathable jacket you can count on for layering to match any day and any weather on the mountain.
Photo : ©Louis Garnier
P.22
P.30
P.38
P.61
P.64
BRUNO LONG
THE COVER Brian Melnyk loads up
snap shot on the glass smooth surface of Spray Lakes. PAUL ZIZKA
thank you
Mountain Life Rockies is stoked to have brought home the 2023 Best New Magazine accolades from the recent Alberta Magazine Awards. We were also a finalist for Magazine of the Year, and our resident magician Amélie Légaré was a finalist for Best Art Direction Single Issue. To be awarded for creating something we love is the highest honour. This recognition is a testament to our collective passion for mountains and the life they bestow on us, to our talented contributors and to you, our readers. Your passion fuels us to tell the stories of the special places we are so fortunate to call home.
In the spirit of respect and truth, we honour and acknowledge that Mountain Life Rocky Mountains is published in the traditional Treaty 7 Territory, which includes the ancestral lands of the Stoney Nakoda First Nations of Bearspaw, Chiniki and Wesley; the Tsuut’ina First Nation; the Blackfoot Confederacy First Nations of Siksika, Kainai, and Piikani; and the Métis Nation of Alberta, Region 3. We acknowledge the past, present and future generations of these Nations who continue to lead us in stewarding this land, as well as honour their knowledge and cultural ties to this place.
PUBLISHERS
Bob Covey bob@mountainlifemedia.ca
Jon Burak jon@mountainlifemedia.ca
Todd Lawson todd@mountainlifemedia.ca
Glen Harris glen@mountainlifemedia.ca
EDITOR
Erin Moroz erin@mountainlifemedia.ca
CREATIVE & PRODUCTION DIRECTOR, DESIGNER Amélie Légaré amelie@mountainlifemedia.ca
PHOTO EDITOR
Brooke Riopel brooke@mountainlifemedia.ca
COPY EDITOR
Kristin Schnelten kristin@mountainlifemedia.ca
WEB EDITOR
Ned Morgan ned@mountainlifemedia.ca
DIRECTOR OF MARKETING, DIGITAL & SOCIAL
Noémie-Capucine Quessy noemie@mountainlifemedia.ca
FINANCIAL CONTROLLER
Krista Currie krista@mountainlifemedia.ca
CONTRIBUTORS
Jessy Braidwood, Matt Coté, Ryan Creary, Kristy Davison, Corrie DiManno, Michael Enright, Andrew Findlay, Phil Harrison, Rob Heule, Sarah Heuniken, Kevin Hjertaas, Erin Hogue, Brendan Leonard, Mitchell Leong, Bruno Long, Zoya Lynch, Jane Marshall, Lynn Martel, Mason Mashon, Graham McKerrell, Erin Moroz, Steve Ogle, John Pomeroy, Jamie Robson, Georgi Silckerodt, Gary St. Amand, Laura Szanto, Tempei Takeuchi, Kevin Van Tighem, Meghan Ward, Paul Zizka.
SALES & MARKETING
Kristy Davison kristy@mountainlifemedia.ca
Jon Burak jon@mountainlifemedia.ca
Todd Lawson todd@mountainlifemedia.ca
Glen Harris glen@mountainlifemedia.ca
Published by Mountain Life Media, Copyright ©2025. All rights reserved. Publications Mail Agreement Number 40026703. Tel: 604 815 1900. To send feedback or for contributors guidelines email kristy@mountainlifemedia.ca. Mountain Life Rocky Mountains is published every October and May and circulated throughout the Rockies from Revelstoke to Calgary and Jasper to Fernie. Reproduction in whole or in part is strictly prohibited. Views expressed herein are those of the author exclusively. To learn more about Mountain Life, visit mountainlifemedia.ca. To distribute Mountain Life in your store please email Bob at bob@mountainlifemedia.ca.
OUR COMMITMENT TO THE ENVIRONMENT
Mountain Life is printed on paper that is Forest Stewardship Council ® (FSC ®) certified. FSC ® is an international, membership-based, non-profit organization that supports environmentally appropriate, socially beneficial and economically viable management of the world’s forests. Mountain Life is PrintReleaf certified. It measures paper consumption over time automatically reforested at planting sites in Canada.
GRAHAM MCKERRELL
We humans like to hold on, dig in, get really snug in our routines and predictability. When change blows through and upsets the balance, we often lose the plot. In the scramble to right ourselves, we clutch at the familiar and attempt to re-establish the old in the new. But what if we learned to flow with the uncertainty—like a gyroscope in the universe’s lack of a plan?
This winter at Mountain Life Rocky Mountains we’re focused on impermanence. Writer Matt Coté gets philosophical about the ephemeral skin track; Andrew Findlay examines the impact of climate change on Rocky Mountain water sources at the Coldwater Laboratory in Kananaskis Country; Kevin Hjertaas digs into creative ways to find backcountry lodging amidst the growing popularity of off-the-beaten-path adventure. Nothing lasts forever, they say, so relax and embrace the uncertainty. Will it snow? Won’t it snow? Cold November? Early spring? Who the hell knows. It’s winter in the Rockies and, let’s face it, even with a plan in place we’re all flyin’ by the seat of our overpriced GORE-TEX. Enjoy the trip. –Erin
Soulful Skinning
words :: Matt Coté
It’s what animals hear when they move through snow: the soft sweep of hair against hoar frost, the crunch of crystals collapsing and air rushing out of the snowpack. As humans, skinning is the closest we can get to it. It’s a form of movement that, at its best, is so rhythmic it’s akin to meditation. And, at its worst, can send anxiety sailing. Some skin tracks are too steep, some are too mellow, others are too risky. But one thing is constant: When you’re putting one in, there’s always a backseat driver. Or at least the feeling of one. Most of us skin with the inescapable sense that every person who follows is going to judge us—and they are.
There are few things in backcountry culture that invite as much ire as an imperfect track. The fact is, in many ways, we encourage that outrage. Vocalizing it is a mark of expertise and a way to signal membership in an elite league of mountain people. But it’s also a conceptual trap, one that can bleed out into everyday life and do us a great deal of disservice. It reinforces the idea there’s only one way up a mountain—one single correct route already laid out by nature that you have to uncover. Even though that’s rarely true, just as in life.
The truth is, unless it’s a do-or-die situation, it’s okay for a skin track to be imperfect, because it’s perfectly impermanent. We don’t need to endlessly edit corners and punch new sections
in for marginal gains just to piss on what the previous person did. And yet this habit has become a rite of passage, like a secret handshake for the initiated. And what’s worse, it’s timelessly seductive.
Of course, backcountry ski culture adheres to rigid patterns of thinking for good reason. We need standards to keep us safe, and we need best practices for good habits. But in the bigger picture, it’s just as important to recognize when standards need not apply. Skinning is as much an art, an expression and an experiment as it is a science. People are all over the spectrum in how they approach it, and hey, that’s fine. Some are learning, some are financially stressed weekend warriors, some are raising families and can’t spend all day perfecting their tracks. But they’re all just as entitled to experience the ephemeral pleasure of putting one in, however faulty or faultless.
Attaching disproportionate amounts of consequence to inconsequential situations, like someone stepping where you wouldn’t, maps our brains in a bad way. The best humans, in mountains or around dinner-table conversations, are adaptive, amenable, flexible and understanding. Applied to any other walk of life, all-or-nothing thinking is a pathology. We don’t thrive that way; we thrive when we allow ourselves, and others, the space to make benign mistakes.
Imperfect tracks should not be fuel for righteous indignation, but a lesson in letting go.
Mural Magic
words :: Corrie DiManno
When the mural is more majestic than the mountains, you can bet Tyler Toews had a hand in it. For the last 25 years, the Nelson, BC, artist has made watching paint dry an inspiring event for communities, shops and organizations across the country. With his bright and bold style, Tyler creates three-dimensional, anamorphic, large-scale murals known for engaging the viewer and creating a sense of community.
“I always try to engage the viewer with my art. I want to create a mural that reaches out and grabs somebody,” he says. “I’ve also seen firsthand how the community will quickly take ownership of the piece and how public art builds pride in one’s community.”
While Tyler’s body of work evolved from graffiti writing in the ‘90s to creating historical sepia scenes in the early ‘00s to what it is today, it all began with a glowing review from his mother when he was in kindergarten. When picking him up from a day at his aunt’s house, she was greeted with the serious news that Tyler had drawn all over the wall. His mother went to see for herself and, instead of being upset, she was quite pleasantly surprised and proud.
“The airplane I drew had all of these windows with people in it and
the wings of the plane had perspective on them; it wasn’t just a flat airplane. And her first reaction was, ‘That’s pretty good for his age.’”
Now his uncle wishes they would have kept it. Lucky for us, though, most of Tyler’s more than 100 murals—of everything from underwater scenes to bird’s eye landscapes made through his company Canadian Murals—are still standing tall to this day.
It all began with a glowing review from his mother when he was in kindergarten.
Over the years, he’s been proud to leave his fingerprints on buildings like the Kootenay Boundary Regional Hospital and Nelson city hall, both bearing anamorphic hearts. Most recently, he covered the Baldface Valhalla headquarters in a glacial-coloured topographic map of the same terrain where he works as a splitboarding guide and supervisor. (If pressed, he will concede that phthalo turquoise is his favourite colour, which is featured prominently in this piece.)
“During the summer, I’m really free-spirited, self-motivated, creative and kind of alone in my headphones,” Tyler says of the
Tyler Toews in his element. JAMIE ROBSON
seasonal nature of his life. “In the wintertime, I put my watch back on and I fall into a schedule. My work is analytic and, between the guests and working with other guides, quite social.”
Tyler has also brought together his craft and his passion for the outdoors by highlighting environmental issues through his art. He’s painted melting glaciers and pollution of the ocean in the hopes of stimulating a discussion.
“Climate change is important, and I think about it a lot. I think about the future for my kids. I don’t come up with many answers, but I’m posing questions so that maybe somebody else can come up with an answer and we can collectively and positively move forward in the way we think about environmental issues.”
Tyler’s daughters Nyssa, 16, and Mazy, 11, are following in their dad’s footsteps—in more ways than one. Riding together in winter and climbing as a family in the summer, Tyler says, “Seeing them experience this joy is like experiencing it all over again for yourself.”
The creative gene has been passed down, too. Mazy loves to draw and is surgically precise with a needle and thread, handsewing stuffed animals (along with their own accessories like backpacks and hats) out of old socks and found materials. Nyssa creates collages and has recently begun upcycling clothing from thrift stores and even making her own clothing. Nyssa also had the opportunity to help apply the paint on both of her dad’s heart murals.
And, of course, they’ve also drawn on the walls of their family home.
COURTESY TYLER TOEWS
Into the Great Wide Open
photo & words :: Mitchell Leong athlete :: Michael Enright location :: Columbia Icefield, AB
Michael Enright descends into a newly formed crevasse in the Columbia Icefield. The icefield is the largest in the Canadian Rockies, sitting atop the Continental Divide along the British Columbia and Alberta border. Its rapid retreat during a summer heat wave created this crevasse, revealing soaring cathedrals of ice.
Childhood friends Enright and photographer Mitchell Leong recently reconnected through a shared passion for the mountains. As a naturalist and biologist, Leong took up photography to capture evolving landscapes and the profound impact these spaces have on his own growth and healing.
“There’s something special about us humans, we are all going to the same places but seeing them differently,” says Leong. “I want to show the positive interactions we as humans have with the ever-changing environment.”
ANY SHELTER IN A STORM
Chris Rubens and Kevin Hjertaas chillin' in the lap of luxury at Saphire Col shelter. BRUNO LONG
words :: Kevin Hjertaas
Is anything more romantic than a backcountry hut nestled high in the snowcovered mountains? Skiers dream of remote cabins with crackling wood-burning stoves casting a warm glow. Dozens of those perfect ski lodges exist across Western Canada, both commercially run or cared for by the Alpine Club of Canada (ACC). But most commercial lodges are booked seasons in advance, and they aren’t cheap. And the comfortable ACC huts in prime ski country fill up fast, especially during high season. That’s why more skiers and snowboarders than ever are questing into the backcountry in search of alternative shelters.
A TIN CAN WITH A VIEW: THE SAPPHIRE COL SHELTER
Three-quarter-inch guy wires—eight of them in total—are drilled into the frame of the Sapphire Col shelter and bolted directly to the granite mountain. Whoever put this tin can here was clearly worried it would blow away. At 2,590 metres, on the ridge between Castor Peak and The Dome, high above Rogers Pass, it’s exposed to wind from all directions and, as the smallest ACC hut, it wouldn’t take much of a breeze to send it flying.
From outside, I watch Chris Rubens open the upper half of its cute wooden split door, allowing a bit of steam from his Jetboil stove to escape. The shelter has no other ventilation; its only small window is fused shut permanently. Wearing his puffy down jacket, Rubens leans out over the lower half of the door and checks the weather. Satisfied that the sky will be blue when the sun finally rises, he returns to the task of boiling water for breakfast and coffee.
There’s really only room for one person at a time to stand up, so I squeeze back inside and onto the lower bunk. I pull the sleeping bag over the ski clothes I wore all night and adjust the backpack I used as a pillow. Other than the tiny stove we brought, there is no heat in the shelter. The ACC website lists the amenities as such: “Heat source: none. Light source: not provided. Stove: not provided. Oven: none. Bedding: not provided.” But damn, you can’t beat the location!
Rubens, Bruno Long and Anthony Bonello have come to capture some ski action for an upcoming ski film titled Farming Turns I’ve come because I’m a sucker and was told it would be fun.
That ACC website also told us that, when it was erected in 1964, “This was the first modern high-altitude hut in the Columbia and the Rocky Mountains.” This statement makes us giggle because there is nothing “modern” about the spartan accommodations now. The two bunks are nothing more than sheets of plywood, and there are no other furnishings. A tiny triangular shelf is built into one corner beside the door for cooking. It’s so crooked that we almost spill our ramen right off the stove. No, wait. Upon further inspection, the shelf is square to the building. It’s the entire structure that is leaning over noticeably.
To access all this luxury, you need to ski tour 1,375 vertical metres from the highway and cross a glacier. It’s worth the effort, though. The 2 by 3 metre metal box sits atop prime ski country. Directly out the door, the north ridge of Castor Peak cleaves the steep, rocky west face and the steep, snowy east face. In short, it’s the perfect launch pad for this mission.
Well before the sun rises to warm our tin shack, Rubens, the athlete on our team, has begun climbing the ridge while the two cameramen, Long and Bonello, circle around below the east face. In less than 30 minutes, everyone is in position to ski or capture the action when the first light of the day hits the face. With every turn, steep powder explodes in the butter-gold light. By mid-morning, the cameras have captured a full day’s worth of content. That’s the glory of sleeping in an alpine sardine can; there’s no time wasted in the morning getting to your day’s objectives.
If Sapphire Col’s shelter were any more comfortable it would be booked all winter. But its rustic nature, coupled with the effort needed to get to it, deter the masses and keep it available for last-minute strike missions. Our little trip left me wishing we could build tiny shelters below every great ski slope.
HOME IS WHERE YOU DIG IT: SNOW CAVES
Camping in the snow necessitates a fair amount of gear: thick sleeping bags and sleeping pads, reliable stoves and all the clothing needed for a cold winter’s night out. Luckily Todd Joyal is built for heavy loads. His powerful frame is the first thing you notice about him—after his shaved head and warm smile. The ex-bouncer, turned ski patroller, turned mountain safety expert hails from the tough town of Winnipeg, and even there he must be one of the toughest. He could probably pick up the Sapphire Col hut and carry it with him, but he doesn’t need to. He and his friends have mastered the art of snow caving in the Canadian Rockies, creating their own shelter anywhere they choose to travel.
“I can’t tell you how many snow caves I’ve dug in my life,” Joyal says. “Growing up in Winnipeg, it’s what we did for fun. It’s been a big part of my life.”
The most common snow shelter in Canada is said to be the quinzhee, an Athabascan term for the most basic of winter shelters. One simply makes a pile of snow and then digs into it, forming a room within. Joyal, a Metis boy who grew up playing in snow forts and never stopped, has built plenty of quinzhees. But for ski adventures, he prefers to dig snow caves by finding deep, stiff snow to carve directly into (saving the step of first piling the snow and waiting for it to set).
Joyal and his ski partners have built collections of these impermanent shelters around Banff National Park that have allowed them to explore different valleys that are rarely visited in winter. In 2015, they even connected the three ski resorts in Banff National Park by ski touring between them and sleeping in snow caves along the way.
Joyal recalls some of their best creations over the years: “We’ve
stayed for a few days, up to a week in some of them. We find spots near tree line where there are deep snow drifts to dig into. Then we often return to them again weeks later.”
After a few years of perfecting their program, he says, “We got it down to a science. We could roll in at 10 p.m. and have one built with a living room, beds and smoking room in an hour or so.”
He’s joking about the smoking room, but just barely. Joyal and his partners typically dig a 2-metre square room. In the far wall, they dig a countertop for the stove and get some water boiling as soon as possible, both because you’re always trying to melt more snow for drinking in camp and because the heat created helps solidify the walls of the cave. They like to use an avalanche probe to poke a few holes through the roof above the stove for ventilation. Next they dig a bed platform on either side. These platforms act as seating while they cook or hang out and later as beds, which are slightly elevated above the main square so cold air can collect below the beds. Once that’s done, they cut a block to cover the entrance and carve shelves or ever-more-elaborate seats. Or you can dig an additional “smoking room.”
Snow caves are about the least luxurious accommodations you can find; even if you go the extra mile and dig recliner seating, set up string lights and excavate a dancefloor, you’re still sleeping in the snow—without heat. But what they lack in warmth, snow caves make up for with versatility and location. You can build them almost anywhere. That mountain face that’s too far to ski in one day? Your home for the night can be directly below it. Want to do a winter traverse in a remote range? You can stop anytime you tire and make camp right there. It’s nice not to carry the weight of a tent, as well, but most people demand a bit more comfort.
Snug as a bug. TEMPEI TAKEUCHI
THE ALL-NEW FIRN SERIES
Embrace the Thrill
Glide between skins, scrambles and descents with all-new Firn ski mountaineering packs. Snow-specific organization and an ultra-stable vest-style harness support any winter mission, while an innovative ski lasso carrying system lets you stow your skis without taking off the pack—keeping you on the move for uninterrupted flow.
LUXURY IN A SECRET LOCATION: BASE CAMP TENTS
The Purcell Mountains run roughly 480 km, from Kinbasket Lake in the north down to the U.S. state of Montana in the south. Deep in the heart of that ancient mountain range, Colin Puskas and his ski partner Rob Heule found their perfect camp in a valley that’s rarely visited and even more rarely skied.
For the past decade, Puskas has dedicated large chunks of every winter to exploring the mountains of Western Canada. “The exploration is what it’s all about for me,” he explains. The ex-pro skier’s boyish face is betrayed by specks of grey in his black beard, but his mischievous smirk is still youthful when you ask him where he’s been skiing.
“It’s a secret,” he says.
The Purcells have 467 named peaks, and it took Puskas years to find his favourites. After he exhausted the novelty of the Columbia Valley Hut Society offerings, his gaze turned deeper into the wild
range. One day, while touring far from any road or hut, he spied his little Shangri-La: It was further west than most people venture to explore, and it was untouched by skiers and snowmobilers.
He could see tree runs and pillow lines through the old-growth forest. Higher up, an array of alpine descents spread out over every aspect. And glaciers capped it all with enticing routes through crevasses.
“It was like finding our own Rogers Pass and having it completely to ourselves,” Puskas says. “But it was way too far to enjoy in a day trip. So we started scheming ways to create our own hut in the middle of it to ski out of.”
Puskas invested in a canvas-wall tent shaped like a teepee, 3.5 m in diameter. The tent has a hole designed for a chimney stack to run a small, lightweight wood-burning stove, allowing him to melt snow, dry wet ski gear and stay cozy and warm.
They look for deadfall near camp, then use the chainsaw, axe and hatchet they carry in to buck up and split it into firewood. They can cook on the wood burner if they need to, but to make life easier they haul a two-burner camp stove and kitchen supplies, as well. On top of that, they bring chairs and a wash basin along with the usual basics.
How on earth do they get all that gear into the far, high corners of the Purcells? Not on their backs—behind their snowmobiles. Puskas and Heule pull fishing toboggans full of the gear, food and beer they need for a week or more away from the world.
They sleep in bivy sacks in a second, floorless tarp-tent erected next to the big canvas one. It’s pretty plush backcountry living, but it’s not easy to assemble. It took them what Puskas calls “a full, full day,” to get there and get set up. They had to drive all the way around to the west side of the Purcells to access a logging road to start. Next, they loaded snowmobiles and their trailers full of gear. Then they started building the sled road by intermittently dropping a toboggan and snowmobiling up steep slopes to build a track, then looping back to tow the gear up. Three hours later they were at camp.
Their elaborate camp takes two to three hours to set up, then it’s time to chop wood and start cooking a late dinner. But after all that work, when they wake up in the morning, they’re smack in the middle of more great skiing than their legs could ski tour during their 10-day stay.
Puskas estimates that the entire camp, including kitchen kit, tents and stoves, cost them about $3,000. Which is less than two people would spend to ski at most commercial touring lodges in BC.
“Looking at the overall value, it’s cost-effective, and you can keep building on it every year and take it to new places whenever you want,” he says.
He adds that it was worth every penny. “It was so quiet out there. And humbling. The peaks are big and you’re way out there alone.”
And when the friends end a long powder run from glacier down to tree line, gliding to their well-equipped camp, they can crack a beer, throw a log on the fire and settle in for a peaceful night under stars, comfortably sheltered.
Creative camping for diehards only. BRUNO LONG
Photo by Maur Mere Media
Photo by Maur Mere Media
Golden BC: Why This Authentic Mountain Town Should Be Your Next Winter Getaway
Finally! The cold temps have returned and there is one thing on our minds: WINTER. Are you ready for your next winter adventure? Layer up, check the snow forecasts, and add Golden to your list. Here’s why it’s quietly becoming one of North America’s top snowsports destinations.
Golden B.C. is an authentic mountain town nestled between the Canadian Rockies, Purcell, and Selkirk Mountains. The town is located within a two-hour drive of five world-class ski resorts and is home to the famous Kicking Horse Mountain Resort. A 15-minute drive from downtown, Kicking Horse Mountain Resort is known for its breathtaking views, legendary terrain, and renowned champagne powder. It features huge ridges with amazing big mountain lines, couloirs, and ski runs that descend over 4,000 ft of vertical drop. With some of the best resort tech skiing in the world, it is no wonder Kicking Horse is the only North American stop on the Freeride World Tour. There are also great opportunities for beginners and families, with plenty of gentle ski runs, a tube park, and a magic carpet ride from the resort’s base.
If you are looking for untouched powder and the experience of a lifetime, Golden is a mecca for backcountry adventure. Heli-skiing was born in Golden’s backyard, and with four heli-ski areas and one cat ski, you can find the perfect experience for you and your group. There are
Golden Shuttle
Use the Golden Shuttle, our daily winter shuttle service, to get directly from Calgary Airport to Golden and Kicking Horse Mountain Resort. www.goldenshuttle.ca
also guided snowmobile tours and over 20 backcountry lodges with guided ski touring to get you into pristine wilderness.
Golden has a variety of winter activities for the whole family to enjoy. Experience Nordic skiing at Dawn Mountain, wildlife watching, snowshoeing, rock climbing, or ice skating.
Keep an eye out for some fantastic events this winter. The Freeride World Tour returns to Golden during the February 7-13th weather window, with opening ceremonies and athlete meet-and-greet on Thursday, February 6th. Also in February, the Masque Parade is a spectacular performance of costumes and dancing celebrating the Snow King and Lady Spring. Great for kids!
So how do you get here? Golden is located on the Trans-Canada Highway, about a 90 minute drive from Banff and a three-hour drive from Calgary. If you don’t want to drive, we offer a winter shuttle service that runs daily from Calgary to Golden and Kicking Horse Mountain Resort (goldenshuttle.ca). To make the most out of your visit, check out our free Golden, B.C. destination app (tourismgolden.com/localapp). We hope to see you out on the slopes enjoying some turns!
Start planning: tourismgolden.com/life
Hillside Lodge & Chalets
Escape to Hillside Lodge this winter! Explore winter wonderland, enjoy breathtaking snowy views, get cozy by the fire. Ask about our full winter rentals!
1-250-344-7281 www.hillsidechalets.com/winter
Get the FREE Golden APP tourismgolden.com/localapp
Bow River headwaters. LYNN MARTEL
The Great Divide
A snowflake’s journey through Alberta
words :: Andrew Findlay
Snow Dome, rising on the edge of the Columbia Icefield in Jasper National Park, is a topographical anomaly. This icy, 3,456-metre monolith is what’s known as a hydrological apex because it perches at the junction of two landscape-defining continental features: the Great Divide and the Arctic Divide. Depending on what side of Snow Dome a snowflake falls, when it melts into a droplet of water it will flow into either the Arctic, Atlantic or Pacific Ocean.
Snow falls, building deep mountain snowpacks all winter long, then recharges the headwaters during a slow but steady spring runoff that fills streams and rivers. Pulses of rain help maintain stream flows and recharge aquifers. In turn, these waterways nourish ecosystems, irrigate farms and supply our businesses and homes with life-sustaining water.
Weather is never constant. Seasonal, year-to-year variation is a fact of climate. However, since the early days of colonization in Canada we built communities and settled landscapes on the assumption that this tidy hydrological cycle would more or less keep chugging along and doing what we want it to do—give us fresh water when and where we need it.
Not so anymore. On the eastern slopes and foothills of the Rockies, a multi-year drought is putting the squeeze on major rivers like the Bow, Elbow and Oldman and their many tributaries. Business as usual when it comes to water management for the hundreds of thousands of people downstream who depend on these rivers is no longer an option. Old assumptions in this modern era of climate change—rapidly melting
glaciers, warmer winters, thinner snowpacks and more intense droughts and storm events—are no longer valid.
“I don’t think we’re ready or prepared from a policy, institutional or capacity perspective,” says John Pomeroy, director of the Global Water Futures program with The University of Saskatchewan Centre for Hydrology and the Canmore-based Coldwater Laboratory. “We’re a semi-arid province. Most of stream flow generation comes from the source in the high mountains and our mountains are leaving the Ice Age very rapidly.”
Last year, when the Bow, Red Deer and Oldman rivers were reduced to anemic flows, we were provided with a “glimpse of what future catastrophes could look like,” Pomeroy says.
“In 2023 we saw the lowest flows on the Bow ever recorded, and we have data from the Water Survey of Canada going back to 1909,” he says. “The mountain snowpack was lower than normal and it melted four to five weeks earlier than normal. That early melt got us into trouble, and we didn’t get the rainfall we needed. So it left us in a dire situation.”
So dire that the Town of Pincher Creek, in the Oldman River Basin, literally ran out of water and was forced to truck it in at a cost of millions of public dollars.
It’s the reason water is on the minds of a lot of people, from ranchers and farmers to city councillors and urban dwellers.
On a late November afternoon, Pomeroy and a technician from the Coldwater Lab fire up a sled and bomb up the slopes of the old Fortress Mountain Resort in Kananaskis Country to troubleshoot an issue with a hydrological monitoring (or hydrometric) station. It’s one of between 35 and 45 remote such stations located across Banff National Park, Jasper National Park and K-Country. From stream flow and soil moisture measurements gathered by technicians in the field, to snowpack depth, air temperature, humidity and other meteorological data transmitted automatically to the lab via satellite signal, Pomeroy and his team gather enough information from these stations to keep a data manager busy full time.
Fortress is an important place for water research. Since 2012, the Coldwater Lab has enjoyed a mutually beneficial working relationship with the owners of Fortress (the ski area shut down in 2005 and is now home to KPOW Cat Skiing and an active outdoor film set).
“The mountain provides logistical support and avalanche control and we freely share snowpack and weather information with them,” Pomeroy says, adding that the Coldwater Lab has a similar researchbased relationship with Nakiska Ski Area.
In March 2023, Pomeroy and five other scientists were awarded the UNESCO Chair in Mountain Water Sustainability. His five co-chairs include three other Canadians as well as a hydrometeorologist from Nepal and civil engineer from Chile. Pomeroy hopes the UNESCO research designation will help raise the profile of the climate crisis facing mountain-dependent communities at a time when the planet is experiencing some of the hottest temperatures since records have been kept. Having international scientists onboard is key, says Pomeroy.
“The multinational aspect of the UNESCO chair is intentional,” he says. “We share with Nepal and Chile an interest in mountain sustainability and the relationship to snow and ice, and we also have substantial downstream water use, transboundary issues, fragile aquatic ecosystems and mountain societies and Indigenous cultures that typically don’t have control over water use.”
simply put, they start in a wet area and flow to a dry area. The Bow’s source is in the mountains where lots of snow tends to fall, and it meanders east to Calgary and semi-arid southern Alberta.
There are some inescapable truths about Alberta’s water. In the Canadian Rockies, seasonal snowpack is responsible for 60 to 80 per cent of stream flow generation in the province, and rainfall generates most of the rest. Though we associate rivers like the Bow with glaciers, melting ice provides at the most three per cent of its annual flow. However, it’s an essential contribution, giving mountain
Analysis of material scraped from the surface of these glaciers has revealed a chemical cocktail of algae, viruses, bacterial fungi, dust, soot and industrial pollution from diesel, gas and tires.
Fortress lies within the Bow River Basin, an area of roughly 25,000 square kilometres (or four per cent of Alberta’s land) and is home to 35 per cent of the province’s population, including 1.4 million Calgary residents. In turn, the Bow belongs to the South Saskatchewan River Basin.
A river basin is a giant watershed comprised of hundreds of smaller watersheds that nest inside one another like Russian Matryoshka dolls.
Snow that melts around the Coldwater Lab’s Fortress station flows into the Kananaskis River, which joins the Bow River at Stoney Nakoda Nations territory some 40 kilometres to the northeast. Hydrologists refer to the Bow and the more famous Nile in Africa as exotic rivers—
rivers a much-needed recharge during the hottest and driest times of the year. That’s why Pomeroy’s scope of research also includes close monitoring of glaciers—and there’s a lot going on.
Rate of melt in recent years is staggering. In 2023 alone, both Peyto, which has observational data dating back to the late 19th century, and Athabasca Glaciers experienced a record eight to nine metres of downward ice melt. Hot temperatures are not the only reason. A phenomenon known as the albedo effect, or a surface’s ability to reflect sunlight, is also playing an increasing role. Normally a glacier reflects 30 per cent of the sun’s energy. However, soot
from massive forest fires and other airborne pollutants has darkened glaciers like never before. Pomeroy says this past summer the Bow Glacier was so dark it was almost indistinguishable from surrounding rock and dirt. Rather than a 30 per cent albedo quotient, Pomeroy says they’re getting albedo readings of less than one per cent, resulting in accelerated ice melting. To make matters worse, a dark purple algae is feeding on organic material and keeping these particles in place year after year. Analysis of material scraped from the surface of these glaciers has revealed a chemical cocktail of algae, viruses, bacterial fungi, dust, soot and industrial pollution from diesel, gas and tires.
“That’s not something you’d want to drink,” Pomeroy says.
The sun is setting on our Rocky Mountain glaciers. Humans are accelerating the end of an ice age with climate-changing pollution. Our weather is also changing. Mountain snowpacks are thinning and seasonal snow is melting sooner and faster. Climate modelling indicates precipitation will come less as snow and more as rain, and storm events will be more intense and severe. Considering the additional concern of pollution of glaciers at the source, the picture for the Bow and other exotic rivers starts to look grim.
Pomeroy is concerned that we have entered a new paradigm of water unpredictably for which Alberta is woefully unprepared. A big part of the problem is that, currently, responsibility for water
die hard. Understanding the downstream pressures facing rivers like the Bow and Oldman today requires looking back to the late 1800s when the Canadian Pacific Railroad (CPR) laid tracks across the country and settlers colonized and homesteaded the prairies. In southern Alberta, they found a place blessed with rich soil and lots of sunshine but lacking water. The shrewd executives behind the CPR pioneered the idea of irrigation districts as a way to harness water from rivers and make it possible for people to farm and ranch—and therefore fill freight trains with grain, cattle and other agricultural products. Irrigation districts were a stroke of genius from a business perspective, and they have had a lasting legacy.
Today there are 11 irrigation districts, and thanks to Alberta’s historic water licensing their members hold tremendous power over how water is allocated.
On a sunny November day, some 300 km downstream from Canmore in the Bow River Basin, Richard Phillips, general manager of the Bow River Irrigation District (BRID), looks out the window of his office in Vauxhall. With a population of 1,200, Vauxhall calls itself the “Potato Capital of the West.”
The BRID got its start in 1903 as the Grand Forks Cattle Co. It now covers an area of nearly 1,200 km2 and is the third-largest irrigation district in Alberta. Phillips has been at the job for 28 years and manages water allocations for more than 600 irrigators and a network of water delivery that includes several hundred kilometres of canals and pipelines. The system is fed by a diversion weir on the Bow River in Carseland, less than an hour’s drive east of Calgary, and three reservoirs, all owned and operated by the Government of Alberta.
Depending on what side of Snow Dome a snowflake falls, when it melts into a droplet of water it will flow into either the Arctic, Atlantic or Pacific Ocean.
management in the province is shared among three ministries: Agriculture and Irrigation, Environment and Protected Areas, and Forestry and Parks.
“That’s the wrong way to go,” Pomeroy says. “Water management needs to be unified.”
He also believes Alberta’s first-in-time, first-in-right water licensing system, which dates from before 1905 when Alberta became a province, needs a serious reboot. Essentially, under this system of water management, a golf course owner’s right to water could take precedence over a town’s rights to water if it has an older license.
Pomeroy isn’t the only one calling out Alberta’s water management regime. In July 2024, Alberta auditor general Doug Wylie released a report criticizing the province’s monitoring and risk assessment of water resources as well as the process for deciding when and where conservation efforts are required and, finally, an overall lack of transparency. The report went as far to say that Alberta lacks the ability to track whether or not conservation efforts are even working.
The auditor general also took aim at first-in-time, first-in-right, calling it a “reactive rather than proactive” system that leaves the holders of historic water licenses unimpacted by water conservation objectives (WCOs).
The report is alarming, considering the water crisis facing southern Alberta. However, old habits—or in this case, old rights—
According to Phillips, the auditor general’s report makes some good points, such as the lack of public transparency around water management, but disagrees with the claim that there’s inadequate monitoring of water licensees.
In response to the assertion that historic license holders are not bound by water conservation measures, Phillips says, “True, but it was the consensus opinion of the members of the basin advisory committees, representing a broad diverse group of water stakeholders, that they [WCOs] should not apply to them, and the GOA [Government of Alberta] agreed.”
That sounds a lot like irrigators clinging to their vested interests in maintaining access to water.
Phillips says the first-in-time, first-in-right license system may not be perfect, but it works when it has to. As an example, he holds up the unprecedented water-sharing agreements that emerged last spring after the Alberta government asked license holders to work together in the face of the ongoing drought.
John Pomeroy admits this spirit of cooperation was impressive and inspiring, but says ad hoc agreements are not a long-term solution. “That’s a Band-Aid for a one-off. And this is not a one-off problem,” Pomeroy says.
It’s important to remember drought is not a new phenomenon to southern Alberta. David Sauchyn, director of the Prairie Adaptation Research Collaborative and a University of Regina geographer, conducted a fascinating study of climate in the Oldman River watershed. His research showed that over a vast time period of
Technicians from Canmore's Centre for Hydrology watch a small avalanche slough off The Fortress. JOHN POMEROY
nine centuries between the years 1100 and 2000, there have been frequent periods of episodic drought and flood.
The difference, says Shannon Frank, executive director of the Oldman Watershed Council, is that Indigenous inhabitants like the Piikani and Blood learned to live in balance with an extreme climate characterized by high precipitation variability. The same can’t be said of post-colonial Alberta. Like the Bow, the Oldman watershed, which extends into Montana, is nested within the greater South Saskatchewan River Basin. Ninety per cent of the Oldman’s flow comes from the headwaters and its major tributaries, the Crowsnest and Castle Rivers, and an array of creeks. Glaciers have long since disappeared from the Oldman’s Canadian headwaters, depriving the river of that important summertime water tower effect of ice melt.
“Water in the Oldman is very low. We’re in the fourth year of a multiyear drought,” says Frank over the phone from her office in Lethbridge.
When you couple the downstream demands from water license holders with the cumulative impacts of on-again, off-again coal exploration, heavy grazing, pipelines, quad trails and other uses in the headwaters, the Oldman is the epitome of an exotic Alberta river on the brink.
The South Saskatchewan Regional Plan 2014-2024 took some important steps in water conservation, including a moratorium on issuing new water licenses in the Bow, Oldman and South Saskatchewan
sub-basins. However, it was more of a vision than a plan, says Frank.
The rubber was supposed to hit the road with detailed planning documents, such as the Livingstone-Porcupine Hills Land Footprint Management Plan that covers the sensitive and contentious mountainous area surrounding Crowsnest Pass. But it hasn’t happened.
“We have good plans in Alberta, but where we’re failing is in implementing these plans,” says Frank. “The biggest challenge is that there’s so much going on in the Oldman and it’s such a busy backdrop.”
Back at the Coldwater Lab in Canmore, John Pomeroy believes Alberta is already behind the eight ball. “We haven’t reconfigured water management, looked at re-engineering designs or reconfigured water allocation downstream,” he says.
Science needs to be paired with water management with an eye to the future, not a past where the mountains supplied the province with a seemingly endless supply. It’s this hope that propels Pomeroy’s research in the cold reaches of the Canadian Rockies. Surprisingly, according to Pomeroy, mountain hydrology is still poorly studied and understood despite the millions of people around the world who depend on it for that basic human right—water.
“Whether it’s my colleagues in Asia and South America or here in Canada, we’re all feeling a sense of urgency around water,” Pomeroy says.
John Pomeroy at Canmore HQ. GEORGI SILCKERODT
Photos: Mitch Narver Photography
Move It On Over...
Six female action sports photographers you should know.
words :: Jessy Braidwood
Most action sport imagery is shot by dudes. And it’s time to change that.
Even the most inspiring images, if produced through only one lens or one avenue of perspective, ultimately fail to represent the full spectrum of human experience.
I don’t say this in a girl power, rah-rah-rah, strong-woman way (gag!), I mean it in a normal, human being way. The dudes are amazing, but they’re all dudes.
I know (and love/respect/am in awe of) a lot of these dudes. I’ve spent the last 12 years on the other side of the lens working as a professional action sport model/athlete. I’ve also been shooting photos for the past few years and every time—every single time—I show a photo I’m excited about to a woman, the response is some version of “Hell yes! Exactly, THIS!”
The photographic standard in adventure sport has been set by and for the male perspective. There have been outliers, but this single-perspective representation reaches far beyond athletes and photographers and up into the world of marketing agencies, team managers, brand CEOs, magazine publishers and beyond. It’s a boys’ club—it always has been, and it still is.
Which is understandable—it’s easy and comfortable and natural to work with people we know, or want to know, or people who know people we know. This isn’t wrong or right; it’s just how it is. So let’s change it, by doing the same thing.
The following pages feature some of the incredible female photographers I want to know, because I connect to and am inspired by the way they see the mountains, the ocean and sport—and how their friends spend time there. And their photographic visions are different.. To me, it’s a difference in feeling, in vision, in vulnerability and connection. And this is where the beauty lies, especially when women photograph other women. For all my years in front of the camera, I only ever shot with one woman (shout out Robin O’Neill!), but I remember how it felt, and I am seeing the same thing now that I’m behind the camera—it’s about being captured and seen for who you are, not as a prop, token or unnatural, out-of-context sexual entity.
Women add value to the outdoor world through their unique experiences. They can see the same strong action or inspiring environments and shoot them in a completely different way. This is what makes art great, is it not? The fresh look, the hot take, the new way of seeing a familiar and loved thing so that it opens our souls and breaks our perceptions of what is—and what can be.
But don’t take my word for it, check out these next few pages and see for yourself.
jessy braidwood
HOMEBASE Whistler
SHOOTING SINCE 2019
INSTAGRAM @jessybraidwood
“My theory is that women have had to shoot ‘conventionally’ (clean, crisp, focusing on the action) to be taken seriously. And now we are starting to shoot however the hell we want. Which is amazing.”
Kajsa Larsson, Whistler backcountry. JESSY BRAIDWOOD. PORTRAIT MASON MASHON
laura szanto
HOMEBASE Revelstoke
SHOOTING SINCE 2015
INSTAGRAM @lauraszanto
“When you’re in a male-dominated atmosphere, it can feel like swimming against the current sometimes. But growing up with Hungarian parents who weren’t connected to Canadian culture prepared me for life as an action/adventure photographer. It gave me the gift of observation, and taught me to show up prepared and ready to work hard and hustle. Being different and having to adapt is a skill that translates to shooting with weather, elements and people that are simply out of my control. Also, having a last name no one can pronounce builds character.”
TOP Chuck Morin, Rogers Pass. BOTTOM Garrett Capel, Revelstoke.
Erin Hogue
HOMEBASE Whistler
SHOOTING SINCE 2009
INSTAGRAM @erinhogue
“When I first started, I felt like, If I work really hard, no one will notice that I’m a woman. But as I went along, I realized, Oh, this is still a thing. For years people would question my sledding skills, like I was always last picked. But I’m still here, going to places that are unlike anywhere else and meeting some pretty amazing people. I like the challenge of working all day to get a single shot, or to get into a place most people in the world will never see for themselves. That’s rewarding.”
TOP Garrett Warnick, Haines, Alaska. BOTTOM Taylor Godber, Haines, Alaska.
Zoya Lynch
HOMEBASE Revelstoke SHOOTING SINCE 2009 INSTAGRAM @zoyalynch
“I started when I was 18 and had a girl posse to shoot and everyone had a blog or a Tumblr account and needed pictures. I won a big contest at age 22—$5,000—and it was like my dream upon dreams. Now, photography is my only employable skill—it’s a career and a lifestyle and a language and a creative outlet. It’s a blessing and a curse but there’s just something that needs to come out through shooting…I love it so much.”
MAIN Nat Segal, Dolomites, Italy. INSET Isaac Kamink, Golden, BC.
CAREGIVERS IN THE WILD: REJUVENATING THE UNSUNG HEROES OF HEALTHCARE
Family caregivers, the often-overlooked lynchpin of the Canadian healthcare system, are the focus of the online documentary series Caregivers in the Wild. Through his hands-on experience as a health care professional and cancer survivor, Calgarybased digital storyteller Mike Lang came face to face with the contributions of these often unrecognized family members and friends, their subsequent risk of burnout and their need for support and advocacy.
Canada’s more than 8 million unpaid caregivers tend to loved ones living with
chronic illnesses, disabilities or mental health challenges: the single mom raising a child with Down syndrome, the husband caring for his wife with dementia, the son assisting his dad living with PTSD. By shining a light on caregivers in the series, Lang advocates for increased government support, including paid leave and laws that offer flexibility in the work-life balance of caregivers.
“If the time they spent caring for loved ones were paid, it would overwhelm the healthcare system,” says Lang. “If they burn out, the system would collapse.” And some
CELEBRATING DIVERSITY IN THE BOW VALLEY
Did you know only Toronto and Vancouver boast greater diversity per capita than Banff? In fact, 37 per cent of Banff’s residents were born outside of Canada, according to the Town’s 2023 Community Social Assessment.
Settlement Services in the Bow Valley and the Bow Valley Immigration Partnership (BVIP)—the main immigration organizations in this region—say that even though many of us assume big cities are more diverse, it’s not actually the case.
People come for the beauty of the mountains; to fill hospitably industry positions, which offer a path to citizenship;
and to seek refuge from war and strife in their home countries.
“We serve people from over 100 countries,” says Heather Bates, community connections supervisor with Settlement Services in the Bow Valley. “Our role is connecting folks so they can create a life where they can thrive.” Bates organizes cultural community meals and walking trips to libraries and doctors’ offices as well as experiences like mountain biking, cross country skiing and curling to introduce immigrants to Canadian mountain life.
“As mountain communities, we can welcome foreign-born people by leading
of the caregivers in the series haven’t been away from their charge in decades.
Leaning into the healing power of nature and with support from the TELUS Fund and volunteers, Lang matches caregivers with outdoor adventures ranging from mountain biking to winter camping. He uses these pursuits to encourage a strengthbased approach, urging caregivers to seek metaphors in the outdoors, focus on their abilities and navigate challenges, much like avoiding obstacles on a trail.
Lang’s inspiration for the series is deeply personal. At 25, he was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, an experience that led him to produce a documentary about his journey. This experience was the beginning of his passion for storytelling as a means for healing and reflection. Lang says he is sharing these stories to help other caregivers apply wisdom to their own lives. “In health care, we were good at giving facts and knowledge but not at sharing stories that help people glean wisdom,” he says.
For the caregivers in the series, the impact of time spent outdoors is profound. They return feeling rejuvenated, with a renewed understanding of their roles and the importance of self-care. “They often forget about their own needs,” Lang notes. “This experience allows them to live their own adventure and gain new perspectives on caregiving.”
Caregivers in the Wild is available on YouTube. For more on Mike Lang’s work, follow him @mikelangstories.
with kindness and understanding,” says Bates. “Our valley is a beautiful and diverse place because of all the different cultures, practices and languages within it.”
The last BVIP assessment showed that 83 per cent of newcomers feel welcome and 79 per cent feel connected. What can we do, as mountain communities, to support newcomers? Bates suggests talking with a new neighbour and listening to their story, attending cultural community meals and visiting the BVIP website to learn more about the makeup of our community.
–Jane Marshall www.banff.ca/settlement
Caregiver Nolan Underhill and survivalist educator Chris Arends build a shelter and fire at -42 C near Nordegg, AB. PHIL HARRISON
PASSING THE TORCH AT SPIRIT NORTH: THE TRANSFORMATIVE POWER OF PLAY LIVES ON AS BECKIE SCOTT MOVES INTO A FOUNDER ROLE
Perhaps the best-known graduate of the Jackrabbit cross-country ski program (oh, and a two-time Olympic medalist), Beckie Scott earned universal admiration with her heart and determination and her journey has inspired countless athletes. But Scott’s legacy extends beyond her athletic career.
In 2017, she channeled that same drive into creating Spirit North, a nonprofit dedicated to bringing the power of sport and play to Indigenous communities through access to equipment and coaches. What began as a small Alberta-based ski program has grown into a national movement, now partnering with 128 Indigenous communities across Turtle Island. With local leaders and cultural traditions guiding the way, Spirit North provides kids access to more than 40 sports, traditional games and cultural activities—sparking joy, growth and unstoppable spirit.
This fall, Scott transitioned into a founder role and Spirit North welcomed Gary St. Amand as its new CEO. With his experience leading the Bissell Centre and his passion for community building, Spirit North says St. Amand brings an inspirational blend of expertise and enthusiasm that will carry the organization’s vision forward.
“The strength of a leader is reflected in the strength of their team,” said St. Amand, “and Beckie has built a great team here. It’s truly a privilege to receive the torch from her and carry it forward.”
So here’s to Beckie and Gary, and to the bright future ahead for Spirit North. The team’s got big dreams, and we’re here to cheer them on!
MOUNTAIN MUSKOX MENTORSHIP PROGRAM
The mountain environment provides us with some of our greatest joys and physical accomplishments. It can be a euphoric space in which we can push our limits and connect with spectacular landscapes. But amongst the peaks there are valleys: accidents, life-changing incidents, traumas and the loss of loved ones. Grief can feel like an isolating experience, but it doesn’t have to be.
Inspired by the protective circle that muskoxen create when threatened, the Mountain Muskox mentorship program offers peer circles and professional facilitation to create a safe space and support for those who have experienced trauma and loss in the mountains. “We always understood that there was a huge need for Mountain Muskox, but we didn’t realize just how many people would embrace it and want to see it be a part of their town,” said Sarah Hueniken, executive director of the program.
Run in partnership with the Alpine Club of Canada, Mountain Muskox currently has chapters in the Bow Valley, Sea to Sky (Squamish) and Golden, with a new chapter starting in the Kootenays this winter. “The desire for an understanding, caring and trauma-informed mountain community goes worldwide,” Hueniken said. As the herd grows, so too will the protective circle.
– Meghan J. Ward www.mountainmuskox.com
SARAH HUENIKEN
Canmore Olympian Beckie Scott welcomes the new CEO of Spirit North, Gary St. Amand, to the team.
PHOTO COURTESY OF GARY ST. AMAND
MINER’S CAFE
Homemade in Nordegg Pie, food & espresso!
619 Miners Crescent , Nordegg, Alberta l @nordeggminerscafe l #PeoplePiePlace
Second to none.
(except maybe this view)
patio location:
One day in the late 1980s I got a call from an unfamiliar number. The deep voice on the other end of the line seemed imbued with both wisdom and friendly humour. “Kevin,” the stranger said, “we haven’t met. I think it’s time we did.”
Lorne Fitch, at the time, was the senior habitat biologist for southern Alberta, responsible for keeping fish and wildlife populations healthy and abundant. But he had no control over what happened to their habitat because, in the siloed bureaucracies of provincial government, land and water use are controlled by others. His was important, but dauntingly difficult, work.
TRAVELS UP THE CREEK: A BIOLOGIST’S SEARCH FOR A PADDLE
At Lorne’s invitation, I drove to Lethbridge to spend a weekend afield with one of Canada’s legendary conservationists. Lorne toured me around the prairies from dawn to dusk one day, discussing habitat projects and conservation challenges. The next day we drove up into the mountains where there were trout streams, clearcuts and eroding motor trails to consider.
Why sacrifice a weekend to educate a stranger about the work of a self-described “combat biologist”? Because, he replied, people need to understand fish and wildlife habitat issues, but as a provincial public servant, Lorne was constrained in what he could say publicly.
Fortunately, combat biologists retire. When freed from bureaucratic constraints, Lorne began writing nature articles and editorials. Now colleagues, we regularly exchanged working drafts by email; I quickly
I COULD DIE AT ANY MOMENT
BY GREG HILL
From the trials of a nine-fingered teenager looking for love to the devastating tumult of the world’s eighth-highest peak, Greg Hill’s new memoir is a story about transformation. Framed around the constant threat of death, I Could Die At Any Moment takes readers through the formative years of one of the world’s most accomplished ski mountaineers and into the unending summits that would come to frame his entire existence—pursuits
realized that I was reading exceptional work. His newest book, Travels Up The Creek, contains Lorne’s trademark combination of deep ecological insights, wry humour and barely restrained anger at powerful people who exploit and destroy our natural heritage. Unlike his earlier work, however, this book seems less assembled, and more purpose-written. The chapters flow and reinforce one another, weaving a picture of foothills, rivers, prairie coulees, windy ridges, chickadees, robins and native trout through the words of a passionate, observant and caring ecologist.
Travels Up The Creek earns pride of place next to Aldo Leopold’s A Sand County Almanac and Roderick Haig-Brown’s A River Never Sleeps
“If you look into the eyes of a pronghorn antelope—black, deep and luminous—you should see a lost map, to places and spaces, to grassland and sage,” Lorne writes.
Reading Travels Up the Creek is also a bit like finding a lost map—a treasure map of Alberta’s wild places, wild creatures and wilderness heritage. It’s a map of places and spaces we risk losing to corporate greed, political ineptness and public indifference. Lorne is determined not to let that happen.
After letting this book into your heart, you’ll be no less determined.
– Kevin Van Tighem
that often are at odds with the most fundamental of human needs: comfort, security and even the bonds of family.
Raised in the hamlet of Sutton, QC, and eventually settling in Revelstoke, BC, Hill helped to make the ski touring mecca of Rogers Pass famous. It was here that he— over the course of a career that saw Men’s Fitness magazine dub him the one of the 25 fittest men alive—set multiple world records for vertical feet climbed and skied in a day, month and then year.
But, records and randonée racing aside, what has set him apart over the years are the adventures he’s always laced into his astounding efforts. Throughout his career he’s insisted on climbing and skiing the most technical peaks possible, whereas others have gone for sheer volume of simpler terrain to etch their names in the history books.
Hill’s memoir is a look back at what shaped his compulsion to dance with risk. From a big, competitive family to an overbearing father, from a sailboat accident that cost him his pinky to his early mentors, and most of all to the mountains themselves. Tension drives
most of the narrative as he tries in vain to build a “normal” life while pulled to extremes in some of the most dangerous environments on earth.
The most candid and wrenching moments come when he reports back to his wife, at home in Revelstoke with their two young children, after narrowly escaping a massive avalanche in the Himalayas that kills 11 people—the mortal carnage splayed out before him like a dark, foreboding warning. A couple years later, he would suffer a bad leg break during an avalanche in Pakistan’s remote Nanga Parbat region. It proved to be an injury, both psychological and physical, that took Hill years to recover from. But, of course, recover he does.
Today, at 48, Hill is still a prolific and influential ski mountaineer. But with his children grown and a renewed focus on environmentalism and storytelling, his attraction to danger has somewhat subdued, and his vision of the past has become cleareyed. I Could Die At Any Moment is, above all else, an examination of what drives humans to both maximum potential—and maximum risk. – Matt Coté
Classic Selkirks alpenglow. Rogers Pass, BC. BRUNO LONG
Lucas Boudreau catches air off the Lower Wave as Mount Temple soars above a classic inversion at Lake Louise Ski Resort. GRAHAM MCKERRELL
Thomas Harding, Selkirks, BC. RYAN CREARY
1. A new generation of cast iron cookware is here. Pre-seasoned, easy to handle and with a uniquely smooth surface, YETI CAST IRON SKILLETS are perfect for live fire as well as induction, ceramic and gas stoves. Available in three sizes, these high-quality skillets can retain and balance high temperatures, giving you an even and consistent cook. www.yeti.ca // 2. The SWANY X-CELL GLOVE is one of the warmest gloves on the market, thanks to the Triplex alpha insulation system that’s 30 to 50 per cent warmer than standard insulations. Fully waterproof and breathable, the odour-resistant and quick-drying lining is wrapped in a supple and durable performance leather. Your hands will thank you. www.swanycanada.com // 3. The award-winning ROSSIGNOL SENDER SOUL 102 is a do-it-all freeride ski that's light and versatile and performs in all conditions and types of terrain, both in bounds and out. The effortless freeride design feels as good blasting through tight trees as it does carving the afternoon piste. www.rossignol.com // 4. Planning cool-weather treks and travels? Check out the insulated JACK WOLFSKIN TEXTOR JACKET for men and TEXTOR COAT for women. Breathable Texapore Core Light Crinkle fabric provides protection from wet and windy conditions on the trail or a city sidewalk. Multiple pockets stash your phone and other essentials, and an adjustable hood tucks away inside the collar. Available at Sail: www.sail.ca // 5. From the everyday carry to carry-on travel, the OSPREY ARCHEON 40 PACK offers advanced organization, easy access to gear and protects most laptops up to 17”. The ultra-strong, bluesign-approved carbonate coating blends style, sustainability and weather protection. www.osprey.com // 6. The PATAGONIA R1 AIR is perfect for hiking in the shoulder season and layering under your ski shell in the winter. Made of 100 per cent recycled polyester, the unique zigzag knit provides stretch, breathability and warmth without bulk. Hit up Totem Ski Shop in Jasper to try it on. www.patagonia.ca // 7. Because it’s packable, breathable, durable and waterproof, the ARC’TERYX WOMEN’S BETA AR JACKET protects across a spectrum of alpine environments and activities. Rugged AF, the GORE-TEX PRO delivers maximum durability. The bucketcompatible DropHood features an internal collar for added protection and an embedded RECCO reflector makes its wearer more findable in emergencies. www.arcteryx.com
8. The RAB WOMEN’S KHROMA CONVERGE GTX SKI JACKET is built to take you from untracked slopes to exposed summits and everywhere in between. The GORE-TEX shell offers versatility with three-layer waterproof protection that keeps you dry, and the warm backer technology feels warm and cozy in icy temperatures, wicking away moisture to keep you comfortable on the climb. rab.equipment // 9. The PATAGONIA DAS LIGHT HOODY is an ultralight belay hoody for getting after it in the mountains. Built with downlike, water-resistant PlumaFill synthetic insulation and a water-resistant shell, it provides maximum warmth and weather resistance for minimal weight. www.monodsports.com // 10. The FJÄLLRÄVEN SKULE 28L BACKPACK is perfect for everyday trips to school or work and just as suitable for day hikes. Made from hard-wearing, water-repellent Oxford fabric in recycled polyester, it has all the right pockets and a padded 15” laptop sleeve, an air mesh back panel, padded shoulder straps and adjustable chest strap. www.fjallraven.com // 11. Waterproof on the outside, warm on the inside: The NORTH FACE MEN’S THERMOBALL SNOW TRICLIMATE JACKET is an all-purpose snowsports jacket that lets you customize your layering to the current conditions. With 100 per cent recycled DryVent and two different synthetic insulations, you’ll be comfortable from lift to lodge. www.thenorthface.com // 12. Made with innovative Intraknit technology, the men's SMARTWOOL INTRAKNIT THERMAL MERINO BASE LAYER COLORBLOCK CREW is designed with blocked patterning for a distinctive look. The 3D knit enhances performance and offers mesh zones for better breathability. With enhanced durability features such as ribbed elbows, this shirt will last for a long time to come. www.smartwool.com // 13. The ARC’TERYX CERIUM HOODY is alpine-proven as a winter-climbing midlayer or a standalone at camp, with packable warmth for backcountry rest periods. Driven by an obsessive attention to detail, it offers an exceptional warmth-to-weight ratio for every backcountry adventure. www.arcteryx.com
14. From blustery trails to high-altitude multi-day backpacking trips, the MOUNTAIN HARDWEAR MEN’S STORM WHISPERER INSULATED JACKET is the one-jacket solution when any weather is possible. It delivers ultralight warmth with enhanced waterproof protection, keeping you warm and dry on the trail or in town. Compressible and stashable, it disappears in your pack until you need it. www.mountainhardwear.ca // 15. Be ready for the storms ahead with the COLUMBIA MEN'S OAK HARBOUR II INSULATED JACKET. It keeps you dry while the advanced thermal-reflective lining retains your body heat without sacrificing breathability. An adjustable hood blocks out harsh cold and wind when you need it and Omni-Tech critically sealed seams prevent moisture from seeping into essential areas. www.columbiasportswear.ca
Severin van der Meer
Photographer: Silvano Zeiter
