No Friends on a Powder Day

The title of this entry is a saying that Amy introduced us to, uttered amongst the locals of any ski town. Basically, when fresh snow falls all rules governing personal relationships go out the window and it's every snowman for themselves in the pursuit of untouched runs. This sounded foreign (and a little insulting) to us when Amy explained Friday morning, but we soon understood the value of the phrase...

We woke Friday morning and were downcast as the downpour from the previous day had yet to subside. Little did we realize, though, that rain in Trail meant snow in nearby Rossland, which is a small town nestled along the side of a nearby mountain. Snow reports had the local resort receiving nearly 25 cm of accumulation within the last 24 hours. Our ability to bring snow with us across Canada continued.

We shook the cobwebs and Amy, who had stayed Thursday night at a friends, swooped home at 8:30 to pick us all up and head to the hill. We were on the slopes for 9. I swear, this is the least sleep I've ever had on a 'vacation'.

The snow was falling wet and continuously. There was an energy in the air as the large volume of fresh 'pow' brought all the locals out of the woodwork. Amy said that this was easily one of the largest snowfalls of the season. She also said that the lineups for the lifts were the longest she's ever seen. We had picked a good day.

One of the most striking visuals from the day for me were the tall evergreen trees that grew on the mountain. They were covered in snow and grew at impossible angles compared to the slope of the runs, but there was something majestic about them. Their snow-covered branches and staunch, unwavering disposition gave them personality and life. It was as if they were grey-haired overseers of the mountains, welcoming and watching the fanciful visitors frolic atop the latest fall of snow. They stood quietly and guided everyone down the mountain, knowing they'd see plenty more snowfalls and millions more visitors. It reminded me of the fleeting time that I have to chase these kinds of experiences, and reinforced the reasons for going on this adventure.


Robyn and I had never really been on fresh powder, and we definitely had not had the chance to ride ungroomed runs. It is a completely different riding experience, and is a lot of fun. Typically you must use the edges of your board to dig into the snow, cutting lines that help you turn and manage speed. With this much fresh powder, though, the ride changes so that you're almost surfing on the snow, trying to stay light and not dig in or else you'll lose too much speed and get bogged down in the thick, heavy stuff. It is a very liberating experience, and a lot of fun. It's also a lot of work though, as your knees must be bent for the whole ride in order to absorb the changes in density and stay 'light' on your board.

It snowed throughout the whole day and we were a very wet tired bunch by the time the lifts closed but we had had our first fresh powder experience and everyone was very satisfied at the end of it. I was especially impressed with the improvement Robyn showed within the day: the forced change in riding style allowed her to better understand the use of weight and edges of her board and she really progressed her skills within the few hours of the day. She even said later that she felt she learned a lot more than just within a typical day. Her rosy cheeks and toothy smile echoed these thoughts.

We ended the day with a potluck at Amy's friends' house in the area, which was a fitting conclusion to a great day. We truly understood the draw of becoming a ski bum and the camaraderie that grows between friends who spend the days in a spiritual state of enjoying the outdoors and the evenings basking in the warmth of good food and drained muscles. Although the phrase states that there are no friends on a powder day, by the time the chairlift closes it couldn't be further from the truth.