74
MOUNTAINLIFE
WINTER /SPRING2016
Rule4. Sophistication isOK
Onday threewe awoke to the dream scenarioof
bluebird skies and15 centimetres of overnight
fresh.Withmore jazz inour step thanDuke
Ellington, we quickly headedout on amission to
summit and ski twoof our friendlyneighbourhood
north faces, 2,800-metre (9186-foot)MountNexus
and3,200-metre (10,498-foot)Mount Baker.
What followedwas easily the best day of skiing
in any of our recentmemories; twomagnificent
ridgeline climbs to stunning summit vistas, each
culminating in a several thousand-foot descent full
of double-overhead cold smoke barrels on a blank
canvas of freshly dropped snow.
We celebratedour triumphant successes by pouring
fancy scotchover some several thousand-year-old
chunks of glacial ice thatwe hadharvested the
day before. After a spiriteddebate about some
important life concerns such as the differences (if
any) between aRomanHelmet or anElephant
Mask, we tucked eachother intobed anddrifted
off intoheavy breathing slumber.
Rule5.NoPain,NoGain
Funnyhow this rule is hammered intomost of
us as children, but it truly starts resonatingonce
your bodyhas a fewdecades on the odometer. By
themorningof day four, a choral onomatopoeia
of oldman sounds hadbegun, with each simple
movement being accompaniedby aNEEYYYAA, an
UNNNNGHor aYAARRRR.Despite the protests
of our haggardbodies, the continued combination
of clear skies andperfect snow forged a rallying cry
that propelledus to the topof another local classic,
2800-metre (9,300-foot)Mount Boomerang, and
down its steep andpepperynorth face; a puckering
line that seemed like a better idea from the bottom
than it did from the top.
Rule6.KnowWhen toFold ‘Em
Knowwhen towalk away, knowwhen to run.On
our final day, we set out on a pre-dawnmission to
attempt to ski yet another nearbybeast
—
3000-
metre (9,900-feet)MountTrapper, but on the
summit bootpack, we beganwallowing in a sea
of hollow, sugary facets. Rather than ignoring the
obvious red flags inpursuit of the summit goal
aswe likelywouldhave a decade earlier, we took
advantage of the one accumulating trait that actually
works to your advantage in your old-balls years
—
wisdom.The call wasmade to abandon themission
and return to the cabin.
We spent the rest of themorning lounging in the
sunon the heli-pad, crushingour leftover beers
and crafting increasingly tall tales about the trip to
take back to civilization.What hadbeenplanned
as the denouement to a challengingwinter had in
fact become the climax
—
thememories of an entire
seasonofmarginal skiing instantly replacedby those
forgedover 96 glorious hourswith excellentmates
in the backcountry. And the affirmation that, at any
age, escape is nevermore than some goodbuddies
and a phone call away.
ABOVE
Joe Schwartz skillfully avoids getting caught up inhis olddangleberries as he drops in to the powdery abyss ofMt.Nexus.
BELOW
Our tripwas so tight evenour Skittleswere colour-coded.
