Sick Gnar Couloir

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.

Monashee Powder

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.

Choppers, Powder, & King Crab

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.