Life hands you some pretty interesting opportunities, sometimes.
Ten years ago, I entered a contest after seeing an ad on social media that was promoting a new lottery in BC, the Daily Grand. They wanted to share the fact that winners get $1000 (Canadian Pesos, mind you) per day for 25 years. Still a pretty awesome bonus, especially since in Canada, it’s all tax-free.
The entry form was a pretty quick online questionnaire, mostly about personal info with one question to answer: how would you spend $1000 in a day? My answer was pretty simple:
I would take my friends Heli-snowboarding for a day in a big backcountry bowl!
And wouldn’t you know it, but I was chosen as a finalist! About a week later, I got a check in the mail for $1000.
Now, it’s pretty apparent that the organizers have no idea how much it actually costs for a normal day of heliskiing. A thousand bucks wouldn’t even cut it for one person. What it can cover, though, is a heli drop.
For those of you who don’t know, it’s possible to hire a helicopter to drop you off in the backcountry and be off to your own devices. I think nowadays the rules are more strict but it used to be that as long as you had avalanche gear and a radio, you could be dropped off wherever you want, as long as it’s not in a provincial park.
So I assembled a team of friends to join. One of my friends is a ski guide, another a photographer, and two other close homies who can shred like the best of them. Only problem was, there was little to no snow and the deadline to submit your video was looming, fast.
And then, just like a crazy miracle, it snowed something like 6 feet in 5 days, right at the end of the window to give us enough snow to shred. It was brand-new snow, unconsolidated over a nothing base, but it was still a gift from the gods.
Rainbow Mountain
The “Rainbow Drop” is almost a rite of passage for Whistler locals. It’s the mountain that kisses Alta Lake on the west side of the valley, but most of it is hardly visible from the valley. It’s such a massive beheamoth that you can’t even see the peak from Whistler or Blackcomb. You can see one peak, but then there are two more behind it. If it were a resort, it would put Whistler/Blackcomb to shame.
We managed to book a heli first thing in the morning, where we jumped in and within 5 minutes, got dropped off on the highest peak. This was higher on the mountain that any of us had gone. There’s a spot to sled up on the shoulder, but that’s probably only about halfway up the mountian in comparison. The third peak had some serious altitude, and we were in for quite a treat.
What we didn’t have was a solid plan. That was our first mistake. We were so used to the sledding route that we didn’t think how big the upper alpine was, and how much it differed from what we knew. Oops.
Our Friend’s Big Mistake
As I mentioned, the snow was unconsolidated from an early season storm that fell on top of pretty much an empty base. When we reached our first slope of consequence, the snow made for a decent avalanche and kept going. We were all pretty spooked. But by that time, the heli was long gone, and we were on our own. We had only one way to go. Down.
We took the steep slope one at a time, as per protocol, and said we would regroup down below. One of my friends (who I won’t name but you know who you are) took it upon himself to keep going down the valley before we set a plan for where we were going. It was the completely wrong aspect for where we needed to go. Second mistake. We did not set up a rendevous point, nor did he wait for us. So not waiting was actually the third.
By that time, we were committed to that valley, but then decided that we would climb back up since it was still early in the day. However, we did not have a map, so we underestimated just how much more the mountain wound around at a lower elevation. Yet another mistake
The Long Climb Out
The climb took us about four hours due to how deep the snow was. Add in the fact that it was all our first day of the season on a splitboard. Two of the guys hadn’t splitboarded in years. We were not at the fitness level that we would have liked. I guess you can always do better, but this time around, our effort was there but our fitness was not. So, it took a while to get back up and over to where we wanted to go.
Add in the fact that it was the first week of December, so we only had about 7 hours of total daylight. By the time we got up, the sun was setting. It sure was beautiful, but we were also in a precarious position to where we needed to pick up the pace to get down safely.
Just as we were getting ready to go, our guide friend got spooked on the slope and decided to reel back. It was a similar aspect as the earlier slope that ran, so I was onboard with it being the right call. But it meant that the light was fading fast.
Descending in the Dark
By the time we had transitioned, it was dusk. We tried to move quickly, but as soon as we got into the trees, the shadows became our greatest obstacle. Plus theres that point in the day where dusk turns to night that the headlamp isn’t really effective, but our eyes aren’t well adjusted enough. So we had to move slow.
We ended up going one by one, leapfrogging through the trees to keep our speed but not going so fast that we would smoke a tree branch. Slow is smooth, smooth is fast. Especially when you can’t see. So we made it down to the upper valley, but still had a good walk ahead of us.
Turns out the walk in fresh snow was the longest part of the journey. We eventually found trail markers for the skywalk trail, but it was a long way to go before we could get to solid ground. The trail turns into the flank trail, which is a few more km before finishing at the top of the Alpine Meadows neighbourhood.
One friend was smart and had a power bank, but the rest of us lost power on our phones. My one buddy’s wife ended up panicking and called the cops and search and rescue, who couldn’t do anything at night, but were ready to go out at first light and look for us.
We made it to the road at 1AM with a cab to pick us up, totally exhausted, but with a memory that will stick with us for life.
The Lessons We Learned
Yes, we made some serious mistakes along the way. But any calamity where you survive is a great learning opportunity. So if you can take lessons from the experience, it’s a net positive. For those of you reading this, take our lessons and its even better for not having had to endure the sufferfest and uncertainty that comes with navigating through an old growth forest in the dark on 6 feet of unconsolidated snow.
Never leave without consensus on a plan. This was the big one. Four of us regrouped, one person went down the valley without us because he thought it was the right way. He was wrong. But we had to commit to his line because we had to stick together. We didn’t set the route beforehand, and that cost us majorly in the end. Had we gone up and over the initial ridge, we could have done a few laps in the alpine and descended with plenty of time to spare, and been home before dinner.
Always have a map and know it well. When we did go off course, we didn’t have a map to go off of, just vibes. Thankfully, we were locals, so we knew where the drainages ended, but not being on that particular zone on the mountain had us underestimating the scale. Maybe in some ranges this is okay, but in the Coast Mountains, they are so massive that it’s really an optical illusion looking at it from across the valley. We were unpleasantly surprised with how big our climb ended up being, never mind how deep it was or how unfit we were. If we had a map, we might have seen the ascent and opted to exit through another drainage.
The cone factor of a mountain. The circumfrence of a cone is far greater closer to the base than toward the top. It goes up exponentially the further down you go. So a couple hundred meters of vert could mean a couple kilometers extra to move around. This is how an easy ridgetop maneuver wound up being a whole day mission in the end.
Listen to your gut. We should have gone out the drainage our buddy went down instead of trying to skin back up. But none of us wanted to exit so early in the day. Of course, had we known that we’d take the rest of the day climbing and a full 8 hours getting out in the dark, we would have gone out the drainage. We were just hopeful to get some extra turns in. But I knew it right away that chasing our friend had cost us the day, but was too stubborn to admit it. I ignored the fact that the snow was super deep and we weren’t yet in good uphill shape.
Carry a power bank. Thankfully one of us had a power bank and we could keep his phone charged. It ended up saving us by being able to use his GPS, and for us to call a cab at the end of the trail. It’s a small little piece of equipment that gets overlooked on a day trip, but is well worth it should an emergency happen. And it goes without saying, but carry a headlamp and batteries, too.
Steve Andrews is a lifelong adventurer since before he could walk. A skier since age 2, snowboarder since 11, he began his guiding career in 2007. He has a passion for teaching people how to fish, and helping them discover their own power in the mountians. He started Alpine Islands to give people a different take on achieving mastery in the wild (hint: you’re never a master of Mother Nature). He lives in Horseshoe Bay, British Columbia with his partner and two kids.
