TOP TO BOTTOM Francisca leads Marie down a tree run on day one of the trip. There’s no better way to get to know one another than sharing a skintrack and turns. Marie easing into the day in a hundred-ish square feet of backcountry luxury. Words, Photos and Captions Colin Wiseman I t was nearing dusk by the time we reached the hut. A Cana-dian flag flapped in the wind outside of the small A-frame. Snow fell lightly from the sky. The front door was wide open. “You wanna go first?” Fellow media man Matt Bruhns and I had been breaking trail through deep snow for hours on snowmobiles laden with a few nights’ worth of food, clothing and camping equipment. He’d led the charge. I decided I should be the one to see if any Coast Mountain critters had found their way into this off-grid abode somewhere beyond British Columbia’s Sea to Sky. Thankfully, no sharp-toothed locals had taken residence inside. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I scanned what would be our accommodations for the next couple days. A well-equipped kitchen counter, two-burner cooktop and sink on the left. A cast iron woodstove in the middle. A table that converts into a bunk suited for two folks behind that, and a loft that could fit three, maybe four if you’re friendly. Musty foam mattresses in the corner. A pulley-assisted drying rack above it all. Backcountry luxury. There were a few basic rules to follow in this low-key retreat at 5,000 feet, built and maintained by volunteers. Burn your toilet paper. Pee on the pee tree and nowhere else. Sweep up and pack out what you brought in. Respect the space and it will last, hope-fully, forever. Marie-France Roy had been there before. She lives nearby for the winters and knows these mountains well by now. Soon she arrived, along with Chilean rider Francisca Navarro. Their delay was due to my oversight—I had left my snowmobile key at Marie’s house several hours away. The pair volunteered to return and get it, then double in on our fresh track. I chalked the oversight up to lo-gistical exhaustion. Marie, Matt and I had been in Girdwood, AK, the week prior, chasing something. We had arrived there a couple days late, it turned out, as an early March warm-up had cooked the steeper aspects of the range. It was still fun, but it was nuking back home. So we’d packed up early and headed back south. So much chasing can leave one feeling a bit disheveled. But we’d made the right call. As Marie said, “We had what we wanted right at home.” COAST MOUNTAINS 059
The Snowboarder's Journal The Snowboarder's Journal 21.4: Page 59
