On Saturday night we went to the hockey. Not an unusual activity for us, but this time was a little different. Instead of a Ghostriders game, we went to watch the Fernie woman’s team, The Hustlers, take on the Snow Patrol team, aptly called the Detonators. It was a novelty for us to watch the snow patrol guys falling over like mere mortals because they are the hottest skiers up on the slopes. We all had a bit of a giggle when they ate ice. They ended up winning by a small margin in front of a raucous crowd of around 20 people. One of the quieter nights in the arena.

Over the weekend I had a few days off, and thus, opportunities to go skiing. Given that we’d had a good 50cms of fresh snow over the past couple of days, not even a cold could stop me from hitting it up. On the Friday I went up with Adam and some friends from work and we were getting fresh tracks all day, finding knee-deep pockets between the trees. Sunday brought much the same, but with an increase in my confidence levels, given my dare-devil skiing buddy. Rach talked me into going down steep slopes and off blood-rushing precipices (of around 30cms) and I did it all with a few stacks and squeals along the way.

On Monday the visibility improved a lot, allowing snow patrol to open a few of the bowls that had been closed over the weekend, quietly gathering powder. Zane and I were up early and into the fresh stuff, making first tracks and woo-hooing the whole way down. Screams and yells of joy are a common and required exclamation when going through powder. It is such a great atmosphere when you are going up on the chairlift or about to go down a run and you can hear people whooping and yelling with powder-driven glee.

When I was young, my Dad used to call me his little powder hound. The name came about because we would all be going down a run and I would be nowhere to be found. All of a sudden I’d pop out from the trees, declaring victory over moguls, or having sniffed out some fresh powder. That inclination is still with me today, it is only a shame that my Dad can’t be here to share the powder with me!

With much love, T and Z.


The Timber Chair! My chairlift to work each day


If you look reeeaaaaal close, you can see Lost Boy's at the top!


The view from the White Pass Chair, express chairlift to POWDER!


Buckle up Zaney, time for powder!


Yay powder time! First tracks!









Fun on the slopes!


The smile of a happy powder hound