The day has started off grey, with the beautiful promise of a coming snowfall on the tip of the mountains tongue. But in this moment, that promise seemed daunting. Further we watched the ceiling fall and close in. We saw less and less of the surrounding mountain tops and the gentle falling of snow was like the first signs of fear, the first heightening of senses, the cautionary feeling entering your movements.
Powder Rush Awake. It’s 6:30am, I immediately look out the window and see what I’ve been hoping for since I began following the low pressure weather forecast a few days ago – a calm sea of white doused on top of everything. Every detail, from the entirety of my old Ford Escape to the centimeter-thick branch that hangs from a naked tree is holding up a few centimeters of (hopefully) weightless white… Read More
One quick hard heel cut and, whoosh, up it goes. A beautiful wave of the light fluffy stuff, a quick turn on the toe edge and you’re right straight in the middle of it, covered in powder and sporting a huge shit-eating grin slapped on your face the whole way. You look up to see about 4-5 other riders experiencing the same sense of child-like joy. Powder slashes here, kick jumps there,… Read More
Zen and the Art of Ski Touring Sliding my feet in that familiar cross-country motion, I take a look at my surroundings; karst mountain peaks ripple the landscape as far as I can see, I’m surrounded by a strange variety of trees seemingly mummified in a blanket of windblown snow and ice, as the sun beats down providing a comforting warmth in a seemingly cold and hostile place. Almost anyone that tours… Read More