Skiing British Columbia: Fluffy Stuff and Face Plants at Revelstoke Mountain Resort

Skeptical of Dan's giant powder skis.
(D. Herscovitch)

It’s not easy being average. If you’re a beginner, you’ve got so much learning to look forward to, so many new things to try. If you’re a pro, you boldly attack the most difficult option in front of you knowing full well it’s not out of your league.

If you’re average, you’re stuck. You’ve got more to learn, but are just within reach of taking on expert-level challenges. You're above the beginner options, but not quite ready for the hard stuff. Though applicable to other situations, in this case I’m specifically referring to skiing.

I donned skis for the first time four years ago in Alaska. Until our trip to Revelstoke, I'd never taken a formal lesson. The only comparable terrain I'd seen was at Alyeska, and I've been mostly on small hills in Pennsylvania since. My first real ski trip was an eye-opening, sore-leg-creating wonder of an experience. It was a reminder that it's okay to be average, but it's essential to remember to manage your expectations.

The town of Revelstoke, nestled in the Columbia Mountains of British Columbia, was founded in the late 1800's when the Canadian Pacific Railroad was built through it. It's a picture perfect little mountain town. Hardcore skiers from around the world have visited Revelstoke for years, and with good reason. The mountains are tall, steep, and breathtakingly beautiful, not to mention the 40-60 feet of annual snowfall.

Revelstoke Mountain Resort (RMR) is only four years old and thus one of the best-kept drop dead gorgeous ski resort secrets. With over 5,000 vertical feet to ski from top to bottom, RMR has the highest drop in North America. In addition to 54 runs, one of which is over nine miles long, short hikes take you to the North Bowl and Greely Bowl as well as the summit of Mount Mackenzie for some serious powder.

Lots of Snow, Lots of Avalanches

After spending a beautiful night at the Hotel Eldorado in Kelowna, BC (best fish and chips ever!), Dan and I took off for Revelstoke. We spent the day playing car tourists, including a stop at Rogers Pass in Glacier National Park. Both Revelstoke and Glacier National Park are part of the larger Columbia Mountains, a stunning set of ranges covering over 52,000 square miles.

The beautiful terrain at RMR, avalanche-free!

Before the trip, I watched two pretty cool avalanche control videos that illustrate both the power of the terrain and the incredible ability of area personnel to manage it. We’d heard of week long Trans-Canada Highway closures due to avalanches, and experienced it first hand when we attempted to leave Revelstoke to pick up friends in Kelowna. The highway was closed 20 miles outside of town for two hours for avalanche control, and we turned back.

That being said, of course all backcountry travel requires extensive knowledge of and experience with avalanche terrain. Without it, park rangers even recommend steering clear of what would normally be easy day hikes. I'm not ready for serious backcountry skiing yet, but regardless, due to our lack of avalanche terrain knowledge, any backcountry travel was out of the question. There's so much I wanted to see that we couldn't access because of our limited exposure to that type of terrain. Where I grew up and where I live, avalanches just aren’t an issue. But an avalanche course or two could open up a whole new world of opportunities, and those classes are at the top of my to-do list now!

It's Not Easy Being Average.

When the foot of snow fell on our first night in town, I woke up elated and ready to experience my first real powder day! Dan and I stuck mostly to blue runs that first day, though I did manage a serious face plant after getting my tips stuck in powder. The rest of our group, all experienced and talented skiers, arrived that night. As a result, all subsequent days involved harder, steeper runs and a lot more speed. Most of them would jump in and out of glades, fly down steep groomers, and talk about hiking up to the summit of Mount Mackenzie to make fresh tracks in knee deep powder. I did my best to hold my own, go as fast as I comfortably could, and even duck in and out of the occasional group of trees. But with a place like RMR at your disposal and a group of ballsy, experienced folks with you, it's not easy being a Type II skier.

In the Greely Bowl trying not to panic. (D. Herscovitch)

I spent a good bit of the week feeling intimidated by the terrain. Revelstoke is steep, plain and simple. And it snows a ton and a half there, which means a significant amount of powder. Though all North American ski areas have the same ratings for runs, the black runs out west aren’t comparable to black runs where I’ve been skiing. They were, as expected, much harder. Revelstoke doesn't use double black diamonds to signify the hardest of the hard runs, which means some black runs were more difficult than others. I did my first hike to a run ever in the North Bowl of the resort, and when we reached the end of the hike, the drop in to the bowl looked like a step off a cliff. But I did it, and it was amazing.

I fought feelings of guilt for being one of the last down each run, feelings of frustration because I wanted to keep up, but couldn't, and the occasional feeling of terror. But I also felt incredibly lucky to be with a couple of patient, talented skiers to watch and learn from. They'd give me pointers when I wasn't too frustrated to listen, encourage me when I made it down a run I didn't think I could, and they'd push me to try things I was too scared to do. I took my first lesson with friend Amanda the day before we left, and though I need at least ten more, I learned a few things that made me more confident. I even managed a long series of sweeping turns in knee deep powder without falling on the last day!

All in all, it was an amazing trip, and Revelstoke is a beyond amazing place. Who wants to go back with me? Who's been there?