The Experience
An Escapade with Wade and Friends
During a trip to North America I noticed that the word “rustic” is incredibly over-used in the ski industry. Admittedly any dictionary indicates that the term can mean various things, but I had heard it used to describe anything from a really dirty toilet to a grand day lodge at Snowbasin ski resort that had chandeliers. In trying to sum up my experience of Wildhorse cat skiing experience I was embarrassed to join many others in using “rustic” to describe this operation, but it seemed aptly fitting. Wildhorse is certainly lacking in sophistication and elegance which makes for a fabulously wild escapade.
The cat skiing day started well with what I thought was a 6:15am wakeup, except some daft head wasn’t aware of the time change between Panorama and Nelson – it was really 5:15am - whoops! The owners of the Ymir Palace must have thought this silly powderhound was overly keen to go cat skiing when I arrived at 6am instead of 7am.
An hour later the friendly hosts at the Palace knocked up a great breakfast and I met my new fellow cat skiing buddies who were a group of good looking lads from Calgary. Two sentences into the conversation I complimented Wade, the pack leader, on his lovely blue jacket and this resulted in guffaws around the table. Over breakfast more general ribbing occurred and blokey comments were made, and considering I was the only female guest for the day, I knew that I’d have to be one of the boys. I made a mental note to leave my lip gloss, hair brush, and any bashfulness behind.
We drove a few kilometres up the road to where I thought we’d meet the cat, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that the travel mode to get part-way up the mountain was a little novel. Two snowmobiles had hand-made 4-seater sleds attached to the back, and we were warned that we might be in for a chilly ride. Some of the boys snuggled together in the front of one of the sleds with a blanket held up to their noses. They looked so cute! Thankfully I received chick privileges and sat on the back of the snowmobile in relative luxury. Another couple of boys (I’ll call them boys even though they are grown men) had to do the “Jamaican bobsled” thing to help get the sleds moving up the hill. Part way up on a steeper slope we had to get out and walk because we were too heavy. Trevor, the lead wrangler (aka guide) called it our skiing warm up. This was getting funnier by the minute. I was having an exciting adventure and the skiing hadn’t even started.
After arriving at the cat we had a safety briefing from both guides and prepared to get into the cat. I was eyeing off the cabin a little suspiciously. Where were the luxurious seats? Where were the side windows? Where were the steps to get in? Luckily I didn’t need steps as one of the boys kindly assisted me into the cat by using his hand on my bottom to lift me up. None of his mates seemed to receive the same courtesy!
On the first cat ride up I was enjoying the rays of sunshine that were coming in through the open window frame, and I enjoyed the amazing backcountry views without the impedance of foggy windows. I was a bit nervous about what sort of ski day this might be. Canadians really know how to ski, and I was worried that this boisterous group of Calgarians might go really hard and fast. If I had to keep up, my ski legs might only last about five minutes. I was also worried because many of the boys were telemarkers, which in my mind automatically made them highly likely to be hard core.
I also wasn’t too sure about what to expect from the snow conditions. BC had been suffering from some strange weather inversions and an associated “drought”. It hadn’t snowed for over 10 days which was disappointing considering I was supposed to be in the powder mecca of Canada. However the first run of the day was pleasantly surprising. The lead guide found a superb run where the snow was still in great shape. Generally the snow was soft powder that slowed me down a little bit, resulting in seemingly effortless turns. Untracked snow was everywhere, and whilst it wasn’t fresh, the silky snow was incredibly enjoyable, particularly on fat powder skis.
The terrain was challenging yet not intimidating and I was quickly reassured that I wouldn’t have to do any mandatory cliff drop-offs. The pitch was steep but the trees were nicely gladed. The pace of the skiing was just perfect, and thankfully Wade and his group of friends weren’t too hard-core.
At the bottom of the run the cat met us and took us up another ridgeline for the next run which once again exceeded our expectations given it hadn’t snowed for so long. It was another steep gladed run and the fall line was perfect. Even though my tree buddy and I were often up the back, we could go fairly wide and still find fresh lines. Further down as the terrain became mellow there were lots of snow covered rocks. Making the most of the soft and forgiving landings, the boys were jumping off every ‘powder pillow’ in sight. They were giggling like school girls, egging each other on, and the cameras were out so they had plenty of Kodak courage happening. I was impressed with the tail guide who was incredibly reliable and was great at scaping up a few of the boys who’d been bucked by the Wildhorse.
After piling back into the snow cat a few times, I realised that I was taking a real shining to this “rustic” old cat cabin. It was warm, relaxing and incredibly sociable. It might have been lacking in the luxury stakes but it was so cool. Bob Marley was playing on the stereo, although it was sometimes hard to hear the reggae music over the din of the boys’ banter. Their funny repartee was very entertaining and their camaraderie intoxicating. Ahhhh – this is one of the reasons I like cat skiing.
It was good that the boys were entertaining, but they also made good ski models. Our cameras were making the most of their stylish skiing, but many of our initial tree runs had been in the shade for the sake of the snow conditions. Trevor decided to take us on an open alpine face that was partially in sunlight, so this was my big chance to get photos with good lighting. It was a steep slope and the snow was sticky, so the only option to get down was for jump turns (or to slide on your bottom!). I always think telemarkers look a bit funny when they do jump turns, but one of the guys had me in hysterics because he jumped twice as high as everyone else. It reminded me of sheep that run and suddenly jump in a field for no good reason, but I made the bad mistake of sharing my thoughts with the other guys. The term “sheep jumper” was coined and another round of teasing and silliness began.
As the end of day neared, the snowmobile ride down was a replica of the morning antics including the running start for the sleds. It was on the verge of sunset and the light casting over the pristine wilderness was just beautiful. The cat skiing had been fantastic, but this mode of transport down the mountain just added to the day’s adventure.
The day finished with a relaxing beer at the Ymir Hotel, otherwise known as the “Weird Pub”. It was a strangely inviting place that was quirky, eclectic and eccentric all rolled into one. It’s a tourist attraction in itself. I won’t say anymore – you’ll have to check it out yourself.
As I drove away from Ymir the Troggs/Rolling Stones song “Wild Thing” came on the car stereo. Singing along, “thing” quickly became interchangeable with “horse” and I was excitedly reliving the day. “Wild horse, you make my heart sing. You make everything groovy. I said wild horse...wild horse, I think I love you. But I wanna know for sure”. I know for sure – I love Wildhorse cat skiing.