When Bob Legasa tracked me down to film with his crew from Peak Video / Freeride Productions at North Cascade Heli ops in northern W.A., my ruber arm was contorted, and I accepted my mission of driving 10 hrs each way for two possibly days of heli skiing.
On day 1 the heli remained grounded and became less visable under the falling snow. Our consolation prize was cat skiing in blower pow! Not bad.
Day 2 the turbine wound up as we loaded skis and flew to Mt. Silverstar
where we filmed sub-alpine pow shots and a few airs.
The crew of skiers was vast, including John Stifter, senior editor for Powder magazine, who joined us for some birthday faceshots and good times.
It was a whirlwind trip of sketchy roads, good snow, new friendships, great food, and fun skiing.
Here is some of the cat skiing footage ... try not to drool on your keyboard ;)
Through the success and failures of this season's skiing, I've realized how some lines are really a gift to be shredded when proper snow, light, stability, and stars align; while other mountains are not for the faint of heart, and don't grant access until they are ready ... or until we are ready.
This week bro Dave and I stood on the shoulders of giants as we joined veterans Dave B. and Jon Johnson in pioneering a new route up a rugged volcano. Combining our experience and skills we made like mullets and attacked from the back, shaving off 6 hrs from the traditional ascent. Our modern approach took advantage of modern technology in snowmobiles, and we rode tandem over rivers, through avi paths, around crevasses, and up near vertical walls. After an hour and 6500 feet of elevation gain we traded 2-strokes for crampons and an easy boot back later we peered over the edge for a long anticipated view.
Despite the previous day's efforts putting in a sled track, and previous years of exploring the area, today's run was a gift. The sun had just come over the mountains, the valley clouds were holding off, and the snow was perfect. We were in the right place at the right time, in the right mind, and with the right people. Dave dropped first, bouncing from side to side down a 1500 foot spine to a safe perch. I followed on an adjacent spine that split into a snake tongue, steepened, cruxed, then spined again. I skied out the fan screaming with double fist pumps and grinning ear to ear. Jon and Dave B. had a different entrance, but similar results. This upper face is really the gem, but we still had a mile of vert. to descend to our waiting snowmobiles. By 9:30 AM we were back at base camp, drinks in hand, toasting our fortune filled lines that loomed far overhead.
This is a significant peak that has stared me down many days, including the morning my wife and I were engaged at it's volcanic base. To summit and safely descend required all our wisdom, skill, commitment, fortune, and focus; and in return it gave us it's all. We know of seven others to ski here; two of whom were present, while Jack and Beaker's legacys remain written on the snow covered walls. We are so fortunate to have these days that we can share with brothers, and return home to share our experience with wives and friends (if our wives still speak to us). I earned 'husband of the year' status for my immediate return, while double D's and Jon attempted the dark north face. Jon was taken out by an unsuccessful river crossing in rising tides, while double D's slayed more long, perfect spines.
March was amazing, but April is awesome! Weathered locals compare this season's snowfall to one more then a foggy decade past; a time before my time on the coast. I have never seen these mountains so perfectly plastered. Our challenge has been timing proper light for alpine descents, and the past 2 weeks our patience and perseverance was rewarded with a few clear days.
Bro Dave, Athan Merrick from Dendrite Studios, photog Chris Christie and I tapped into some of our local hills around Pemberton, squeezing out every possible shot the light would allow. After 2 long days of sun we had bagged some good lines despite the competition from many other amped film/photo crews feeling pressure to produce sunny segments.
It was disheartening to see so many people in areas normally reserved for a dozen local Pembertonians, yet most respected the unwritten rules of the backcountry. Even Terje, who's heli used our skis as a landmark to guid them onto the peak we were setting up to ski, politely admitted to his greasy snowboard ways and let us work the face. 'What goes around comes around' and later that week we were the slower crew sledding up to the same group on the same peak.
Athan and Nick are now pulling late nights to prepare for the Intersession film contest on Wednesday, April 20th; so I guess Dave and I will venture a little deeper, hopefully escaping the helis and hype of the crowded Whistlerites.
I hate to plan trips in the winter, which annoys my wife ... and when I do plan, it still annoys my wife as I rarely keep plans. Weather, snow, and invariably others involved continually change. Consequently, my week and a half long plan of celebrating Griz Dayz in Fernie, BC, followed by a string of catskiing locations with a filmer, writer and photographer was diminished to two days at K3 based out of Sicamouse BC. I was tired of trying to communicate to anyone, and arrived at the Best Western, unaware that this would be our lodge. Photographer Bryan Ralph, skier Matt Elliott and I soon realized the benefits: close to cheep beer, a pool, cell service, privacy, and Timmy Ho's next door. As we turned off kilometer 3 of the logging road and climbed the switchbacks, our guide Carl explained the difficulties of keeping the road plowed to the cat, and even the troubles of keeping the cat roads maintained as it has snowed at least every four days this season. Our terrain was limited, but the snow seemed bottomless. We were guests here with a purpose: to capture publishable photos, to gain photos marketable for K3, and to shred pow. And during our short stay we knocked off all three. Matt and I kept finding pillows jutting out of the trees and we would try and figure out a take off and landing, sometimes compromising both for the sake of some good old hang time. When one of us asked the other about the landing, the answer was always "oh yah, its good!" ... " Is it steep?" ... "oh yah, super deep!" Over years of skiing and surfing, I've learned the value of seizing the moment when conditions are right so Elliott and I jumped off everything we could find. On our last run we caught a glimpse of K3's bigger jaw-dropping terrain, which was a bit of a sucker punch, but also inspiration to return.
The past two weeks have been incredible on the Coast Range; with meters of fresh snow, followed by sunny cold skies and a stable snowpack. It took little convincing for Travis and Cheddar to join me ski touring from a cozy cabin to bold lines.
The late and great Jack Hannan brought me here on our first ski-day together. At the time, I had no idea what Jack was about to expose me to in the following years. He opened my eyes, and the door to big mountain skiing; leading by example in his light-hearted yet focused and committed way.
Now years later, with a clearer vision, I've returned. Its a big wall and I was happy to test the smaller shoulder's spine, feeling the place out. This was the deepest snow I've skied on something this steep. At times I thought the whole line was sliding on me, but it was ripable waist deep slough.
This spine was the Warm-Up run... So stay posted to see how comfort levels adapt.
Back in my late 20s, I was in this frigid cauldron, spending a day's worth of energy climbing the deep snow of the north face. This time bro Dave and I returned with a different game plan.
Accompanied by Jon Johnson, Chris Christy, and Joe Joeseph Lax we started early; making like a mullet and attacking from the back. The day seemed all too easy, strolling up the south side in sunny firm snow, then shredding sweet steep spines down through the crevasse and cerac fields.
A gem like Mt. Swensan/Swanson doesn't always present itself this easily, which is why few have experienced it's thrill. Years of recons, Google earth,a tested and trusted crew, proper snow and weather conditions, and God's blessing all came together for this successful day.
2011 is my inaugural sledless season, forcing me to get after some of the peaks in the non-motorized Garibaldi Park. Cheddar, AK Mike and I skied off Blackcomb Saturday morning and set up a base camp near Wedge mountain. Our mission was to conquer Lesser Wedge's east facing couloir, that Cheddar has spotted from opposing ridges years prior, instantly ranking it near the top of his hit list. Upon seeing it "that's a sick, gnar couloir" spewed from his mouth.
Sunday dawned blue skies as we skinned through the trees to the base of Lesser Wedge, where we traded skins for crampons. With our skis strapped onto packs, we used crampons and ice axes to claw skyward. It's nice to climb a big line before skiing it, to test snow texture and possible dangers; and today's snow was as good as it gets.
Upon summiting, the 360 degree view was spectacular, but the peak winds didn't allow for much sight seeing, and the coulie was calling. We took turns leading different pitches, regrouping in safe zones then continuing down. Until this day, I've never skied a couloir where every turn was perfect snow. High 5s were thrown at the base as we admired our temporal tracks. A piece of art in its purest form.
I had to get back home, while Cheddar and Mike stayed another night, so as darkness approached I set off, loaded with camping, climbing and skiing gear. In hind sight, returning solo up a new route in the dark, in a snowstorm, with dead batteries in my GPS probably wasn't the best option; it was that, or have my family call SAR if I didn't return. To make a long and painful story short I made it back by 2 AM, about six hours later then expected. Mamma Treadway tried making me promise to avoid those situations, but I couldn't lie to her. The truth is, we do try to minimize and prepare for risks, but in reality, life without danger would just get boring.
Returning to British Colombia's Kootenay mountains warms my heart with memories of happy, simple, generous people, living in a land of deep dry powder. So when bro Dave invited me to join him and Jordan Manley on a return trip to Monashee Powder snowcats, I graciously obliged; and we embarked on a quest to complete our hat-trick of deep pow shots amidst an eerie setting of burnt forests.
Tom and Carolyne's tip from an old trapper about the snow quality and terrain was advice well taken. And with finances saved from years of happy return clientele, a new lodge was constructed, rounding out the luxuries of our experience.
In past years, Dave and I found substantial cliffs to drop, setting benchmarks for other airs to measure against; but with a thinner snowpack, and Dave's recently broken collar bone, we focused on Manley's artistic vision of ski photography.
By our final cat ride, we were pretty tired from the 'hard work' required to create some spectacular photos, which Jordan will unveil throughout the 2011/2012 season's publications. And we are once again very grateful for the amazing hospitality by all the staff, and the friendliness of the guests and Catski Canada.
Check out Jordan's video of our trip, and stay posted for more photos.
Often, skiing's success stories are due to detailed planning, but in this case, success came as a result of my wide open holiday schedule. Bros Dan and Dave were scheduled for a trip to Great Canadian Heli ops. in Roger's Pass, BC with photog Jordan Manley, and videographer Jamie Bond; until fate threw a curve-ball. Dave broke his collar-bone, and Dan couldn't leave Whistler's bottomless pow. GCH didn't care which Treadway was skiing, but without Dan and Dave's long flowing golden locks a female skier was needed for marketing. Thus, Rossland's homegrown Leah Evans entered the scene to humbly show off her honed Kootenay ski skills. Despite below average snow-depth, we skied perfect quality pow for 4 days, while being pampered with gourmet eats through out the evenings. GCH was very flexible, allowing us to take the doors off the heli for J & J to dangle out the side and follow us down the mountain for overhead shots. Jordan's harness was a little tight and he now speaks 2 octaves higher, but he maintained his professional focus and still nailed the shots.
When the skies cleared we hit the alpine, and were awestruck by the giant peaks that dotted the landscape. Mt.Sir this and Sir that were the 'rogue waves' in a sea of giants; surpassing 10 000 feet of elevation being the requirement for a Mt. Sir.
Snow stability was variable, so we were pigeon toed to smaller slopes where we could manage avalanches if they released.
Guide Rob recognized our backcountry experience and despite one small slide, still allowed us to take reasonable risks to get the shots we were after.
Those big peaks are burned in my memory, and will haunt me to get back there with better stability ... hopefully this season.
The 2010/2011 snow did not come "in like a lion" but rather teased us with promise of precipitation and left with high freezing levels followed by cold temps resulting in a typical Rockey Mt snowpack rather then the usual Coastal goodness. Growing up in Northern Ontario has conditioned me to appreciate any snow in the mountains, and opening days of Whistler and Blackcomb had us stoked. Early season is a special time of year as the mountain is fueled by the local stoke, and the crew is in training with thoughts of the season's adventures ahead. With everyone still at home base, Ian MacIntosh organized a day of avalanche and crevasse rescue; our combined knowledge and experience proved strong and it was good to get everyone on the same page. Santa was generous this Christmas and we received 44cm of overnight pow and 87cm in 24hrs for Christmas day; the second best gift anyone could ask for (our best gift was given 2011 years ago).
I can't believe I'm leaving this amazing snow in Whistler, but it's time to go heli and cat skiing in the Kootenays with photographer Jordan Manley, and Dendrite Studios. Stay posted for photos and videos to come ....
Returning from a 2 month summer surf trip in Central America, Pam and I upgraded our dinosaur bikes to the popular Giant Reigns and explored a bunch of big trails around Pemberton.
"Titties and Beer" was renamed on Sept 18th when the late Jack Hannan would have celebrated his birthday, and the trail he was rebuilding was given the new name of "Jack The Ripper". A crew of friends gathered to christen the recently completed trail, and lay some first tracks down steeps that Jack would have been stoked on.
Shorter fall days don't allow for as much climbing time, so many of the trails we have truck shuttled, then climbed further up. Piling bikes over the tail gate of our new Tundra, Pam, friends, and I have been riding trails off the Duffy Lake Road, the Hurley Pass, and other logging roads leading out of the Pemberton valley.
Our most recent adventure involved hiring a Beaver float plane to drop us deep in the Chilcotin mountains at Warner lake, where we began our 7 hr. return peddle to civilization. The views from the sky and trail were breathtaking in the crisp fall sun.
It's hard to imagine the biking being any better; but the change of seasons will mean a change of hobbies, where hunting to fill the winter freezer will soon take president.
This year concludes a decade of skiing in the mountains for me.In ’99 I moved from Ontario to a camouflage camper in Fernie, BC.Now 10 years later many of my dreams have becime fond memories, including a recent trip to the famed Alaska …
Alaska wasn’t a free hand out.I wasn’t given a travel budget by sponsors and thrown into a heli to drop me on top of beautiful mountains with perfect snow.No, it was a long journey that began as a childhood dream, and became a reality this year as I began climbing and skiing many of the big mountain lines around Pemberton, BC.I enrolled in the Pemberton Big Mountain Hunting Club, and bagged Mt. Joffre,Mt. Currie,Mt.Sampson,Mt.Meager and Pylon.
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Brother Dave and I had dedicated April to being on call for a weather window in HyderAK.When we had all but given up, the weather broke, and on April 24th, we loaded truck and trailer with sleds, sleighs, jerry cans, food and ski gear.By 6 PM on Saturday the 25th we were at our new home; a refurbished trapper’s cabin, 40 km up the Salmon valley, at the toe of the Salmon, Berendon, and Frank Mackie glaciers.We unloaded our gear and rallied up to ‘MatrimonyPeak’ where Dave had proposed to his wife Tessa the year prior.We skied a couple lines each as the sun slowly set and cast long shadows down the glacier.
Day 2 -Sunny.We tandemed (doubled on the ski-doo) up a ridge and skied a 1500 ft warm up run.With a stable snowpack we continued up the ridge, and hiked the peak, then dropped into the 2500 ft face, and skied down another 500 feet of glacier back to the sled.From the peak, we witnessed some impressive views, including a big spine face across the Salmon glacier, so we ripped up to the top and railed 3 lines each before heading back to the cabin.
Day 3 – Sunny.The spines were so amazing that we headed straight back to catch them in the morning light.Wow, possibly the coolest lines of my life!
Once we skied every combination of lines, I had to check out the North face of this big peak that loomed in the distance.As we sledded around to the North side, this beautiful long sustained face came into view.We were able to sled half way up, and then we hiked the rest.The ski down was awesome … big long fast turns in slivers of sun light.A classic for sure!
Day 4 – Sunny.We sledded up the backside of this peak and hiked to the top, where we found a weather station/cabin on a cliff.We were able to climb onto the roof and see the ocean.Then I roped up and slid into the ‘curve ball’ couloir on the North face.3000 ft later I arrived at the sled, and watched Dave ski to the right of my line on a huge exposed spine, that entered the couloir half way down.A crazy line that he skied with grace, and claimed the line of his life.
Keeping with the couloir theme, we approached another peak where we had to belay one another across this shelf to get to its entrance.There is something about a guarded line that makes it that much more special.I dropped in a steep spined face that lead to the couloir, rappelling down the rope for the first bit, then skiing to a safe spot until Dave leap-froged me.Half way down I dug in an anchor and we rappelled through an icy choke, then carefully skied the last of the 3000 footer to the sled.We skied this line using ice axes instead of poles.I called this line ‘God’s Hands’ because that’s exactly where we were!
Tim Grey met us at the cabin in time to witness us at the climax of our trip.
Day 5 – Sunny.We skied some of the ‘mellow’ lines with Tim, and explored the glaciers looking for more North faces.
Day 6 – We ate pancakes in the sun, then warmed Tim up on MatramonyPeak.As he skied to the sled, a grizzly bear crawled out of the snow and started climbing up the slop.I ripped to the top and dropped in as he was gaining the ridge.I hoped to ski with him, but settled for a close up view and exchanged anxious glances.
We then headed off exploring more of the Frank Mackie glacier, finding a gem of a North Face that was covered in big hanging seracs.Amongst the ice was a spine that was sun lit.We skinned up, then climbed over the burgschrund to the peak.The ski down was epic as there was ice beside, below, and eventually above us.
Day 7 – Sunny and warm.We woke early to get into a slot on a cliff that was covered in a big cornice.The slot faced North and the snow was good, but when Dave and I got to the choke, where we were about to build an anchor to rappel down, warm sloughs on the east facing cliff started coming down on us.We were able to dodge the heaviest parts, then quickly put our crampons on, and basically run back up the line.
Looking back on this epic mission, we realized that we had prayed on top of every peak – something we normally reserve for the few scary lines per year.We also noticed white hawks (no not sea gulls) circling above us as we climbed and skied throughout the week. What a trip!!
As you drive down Pemberton meadows, the setting sun silhouettes two peaks on the far horizon: aptly named Pylon, and Meager (previously aptly named Cathedral).I desperately wanted to ski these but thought I had missed my window, until old ‘father winter’ sand bagged us with a late season dump followed by clear skies.Li’l bro Dave and I sledded into base camp late at night and met Dave B. and John Johnson.
We spent the following morning punching a new sled route up onto the glaciers that connect the amazing volcanic peaks.Jack Hannah and Cheddar followed our tracks and caught us climbing the last pitch to Cathedral’s peak. As we skied the first N.E. face, Dave B. was the last to drop in while I was watching from behind a rock below; camera in hand. On his second knuckle dragging turn, he hit an unstable pocket that released and fired down slope at me like a freight train. In the split second I had to react, I thought of getting the shot, instead, I took a mental picture as I ducked behind my ‘safe rock’ and dodged the slide that caused another avalanche further down and disappeared into the crevasses below. Instead of following the slide path, we cut over the ridge to the North face where the snow was amazing. We carefully shredded down onto the spine crux, and into the open bowl to the sleds below.
We should have called it quits there; but Pylon looked so good, and we justified the avalanche by Cathedral’s sun exposure. By rights of setting the boot pack up Pylon's North chute, I dropped in first and had a good run down the steep face. The run was similar to that of Cathedral's but on a much smaller scale; beginning with a protected N.E. fan that chocked on a spine, then opened again into the bowl.John was next and similar to Dave B’s turn on Cathedral, he released a slab that threatened to pull him off the face over cliffs.By punching his fists through the slab into the snow below he was able to stop.They then skied down the chute that we hiked up, but Dave B hit another pocket and released a small slab that poured off the cliff below and onto Little Dave and Cheddar. They were able to run down slope and avoid taking it on the head, then Dave played 'Marco/Pollo with his radio until he found it under a foot of debris.
I still had to ski down another shorter pitch, so I waited until the crew made it around by sled, then ski cut the convex roll, which predictably released the entire slope I was about to ski.I scratched my way down, and we headed back to camp.
Day 2, we packed away our skis, and sledded deep into the CoastRange, scoping other epic faces that will haunt our dreams until we get back there again.
Keeping with our theme of being too ambitious we attempted a new route off the glacier, only to be cut off by a canyon. We retreated and made a first sled decent down another drainage that we had previously scoped.
We were all pretty stoked to arrive at the valley bottom, assuming our trials were over. After a crossing a couple sketchy avi debri paths, and siphoning gas from one sled to another, then towing as we continued to run out of fuel, we arrived at the trucks. Safe, tired, happy, and a little smarter.
Productions at North Cascade Heli ops in northern W.A., my ruber arm was contorted, and I accepted my mission of driving 10 hrs each way for two possibly days of heli skiing.
