Icefall Lodge BC

December and January have completely flown by, leaving the season half over before it really started in my head. Skimpy is the best way to explain our snow fall this year. Luckily, there is enough to get by, even enough to get some work done shooting with Jt Robinson, Jon Gurry and Steve Lloyd. Unfortunately, the usual blower days we are used to have been minimal this year.
I recently returned from a phenomenal all women tele trip up to BC. It was my first experience to the 'great white north' as Martha Burley calls it. And this first experience was mind blowing. The trip was concieved by Shaun Raskin. A fellow telemarker pointed her in the direction of Icefall Lodge just outside of Golden, BC. I was lucky enough to be invited along for what turned out to be an amzing ride. The whole trip just kind of came together with an amazing group of girls. Re Wikstrom (photographer), Shaun Raskin and I met up in SLC to begin the epic drive to Golden. We picked up Paige Brady in Idaho Falls and made our way up through Missoula to the Canadian border through Eureka. After stopping at a dirty Duty Free shop we made our way through the border with no problems. Four hours later we pulled into the Ramada, met up with Martha and passed out for the night.
We met up at the Heli pad at ten, even though our real heli pad was 20 minutes north into the woods. It was my first experience with a heli. I wasn't disappointed. It was overcast the entire 15 minute fly to the lodge, but it didn't matter, it was breathtaking. I have always been in love and enthralled with my mountains. I quickly realized my little mountains are dwarfs in the world of peaks. A new sense of adventure overtook me, I wanted to get to these mountains, I wanted to climb to the top of every peak I saw. Thats new for me. I have been more than content to have lift accessed descents for my enitre life. There is something about majestic peaks that provoke a sense of adventure, like they are meant to be explored and my little heart felt it.

The beginning

Anticipation of approaching the mountain always gives my heart a jump. The first ski of the season is often met with mixed emotions, dishing out for a season pass always dampens the mood. My credit card is swiped, the pit in my stomach opens wide and I feel like my life is being sucked away. A little buyers remorse spruns inside my head, 'will it snow, is this worth it, they keep just raising the prices, maybe I should boycott, should I earn all my turns.' Before any of these thoughts solidify my tentative smile appears on another years season pass and I'm walking toward the lift. The ride up drags on a little longer than I remember. The first ride up is often awkward, sitting next to some 50 year old snowboarder, attempting to make conversation. I spent the first day of the season attempting to break in my new scarpa boots. Rough, they just don't seem to fit right. Pretty quickly I realized my pre-season workout was a little lacking, as my legs screamed with each turn and my blood felt like battery acid. By the third run I was feeling the turn come back and the burning sizzled down as my deteriorated quads began to remember. By this time the small amount of man made snow that was on the mountain had been sprayed to the sides while the majority of the run was a nice sheet of ice. My never tuned skis attempted to grip the ice but slipped over and over again, causing flashes of blown out knees to plague my thoughts. Once my mind balanced I stopped fighting my edges and let them grip. Those first turns when my muscle memory comes back sends jolts of excitement. It's back, winter is back.