Shelter from the storm

SHELTER FROM THE STORM Words By Tom Southern Photos By Mickey Ross

In true New Zealand freeski style we planned to meet up in the morning of our big trip, and as usual some people were on time, but not us. Our party was made up from four of ‘Revelblokes’ finest Kiwis, a Canadian packhorse and a token Aussie. Us Kiwis were still running on the New Zealand timetable, and an hour late to realise we had forgotten to pick one of our members up. Sorry, Si. Our target was the Asulkan Hut, located above the main highway between Revelstoke and Calgary, BC, Canada. At an elevation of 2100 metres, on the edge of the treeline, beneath a glacier. At a cost of $40CAD per night, this 12 bed hut is a skier’s dream, so it gets booked out months in advance.

A short one hour drive on the wrong side of the road and the convoy rolled into the carpark of the National Park reserve. I had completed an avalanche course and with warm temperatures in the week prior and snow starting to fall hard, this was going to be my first chance to really put it to use. I had two hours of skinning through trees to ponder what lay ahead in the way of tests and skills I would be able to apply. Along with Si who was able to put ski patrolling experience and his avalanche knowledge to use, route selection was made by Mickey. After navigating around the avalanche paths, it took four hours to tour into the hut for those who were fit and didn’t have trekkers (day-wreakers) and five for myself as tail-end Charlie. I blame the skins.

One of our aims over the four days was to ski a famous couloir called “Forever Young” – a 2000ft vertical legend. Everyone was tired after the ski so we decided to hang in the hut till the next day.

As the night wore on with the occasional long walk made to the toilet in the 120km/h winds, we agreed there would be no rush to get out of our sleeping bags in the morning. However, once we realised the storm had brought in 70cm of fresh Canadian powder , we were frothing at the bit to get out the door and into the white paradise awaiting us.

As avalanche danger was high, we could now no longer ski the alpine, but we weren’t complaining ... we had an open tree face below the hut we could session till the point of exhaustion. We lapped a block of trees for as long as we could ski. One of the great chances you get when you work hard putting on your touring gear and put the effort in up the mountain is to feel that satisfaction when you get to the top. As the saying dictates, work for turns that you earn with the burn.

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Canada’s backcountry huts have a similar atmosphere to the club fields in New Zealand, in the sense that you feel removed from reality. New friends were made and good times had as we shared the hut with another group of four and learnt new card games from them throughout our stay.

But the pendulum would swing each morning, when our new friends become our competition and instead of racing for our nutcrackers and the rope tow, it was a race to get our trekkers and skins ...or lack of skins when Si figured out his were still hanging by the fire while he was standing at the base of our first run. I think Si had a bad case of pow fever. In a backcountry hut there are plenty of fresh lines for everyone, but that still doesn’t stop the rush to get out the door!

While Mickey earned his beers going back to the hut for the skins, Si provided us with an in-depth insight into the snowpack after he lost a ski. This was not my idea of putting my avalanche course to use. After three hours of probing and extensive analysis of the 70cm of fresh, 90% of the face had been shoveled, probed and trodden before the lone ski was found. The prognosis on the slope was that it was very safe, thanks, Si.

Clockwise from top left: – Si reaping the rewards of the storm.

– Our shelter from the storm.

– Killing time, hut style.

– Si and Tom pouring a nice cuppa.

– Tom reckons it was worth the walk.

When there is good snow about and limited time, it can become a case of get the camera out to take some photos versus shredding hard and forgetting about the camera. At the end of a long day and a few whiskeys later, we persuaded Mickey to get his out. Canadian huts are great when they are loaded with good old Canadians. But throw an Aussie in the mix plus a few Kiwi lads and you are sure to have the trip of a lifetime.

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