By Leslie Woit
Photos: Henry Georgi
There's a feline expression for pretty near everything you might come
across on your cat-skiing journey. Catnip, the nibbly treats they keep
in the snowcat while you're skiing. Catgut, which occurs when you eat
too much of their delicious food. Kitty litter, the snowballs tossed up
by the blades of the snowcat that make stopping in a hurry tricky
business. And, of course, cat-a-logs-the really nice wide-open runs you
only get in clear-cuts.
At Powder Cowboy, about 45 minutes
west of Fernie, I'm riding upfront in Princess, the name the guides
give the cat when either of the operation's two cat-girl drivers are at
the wheel. From the warm bucket seat of the cab, I get a bird's-eye
view of the goodies to come. "When I was little, I loved dump trucks,"
admits Kelly, enthusiastic about driving the machine in all weathers
and winds. "When the snow is flying, the cats are like little fairies
floating across the mountain. And these jobs don't come up often-I was
lucky."
Maybe, but as the ones who get to jump
out and ski away, we feel even luckier. With a skiable terrain of
almost 2,500 hectares and average runs this day of about 350 vertical
metres, the powder between the heavily loaded snow ghosts is knee-deep
and very sweet.
Kelly wields her machine nimbly around
a corner in the snow road, a corner only she can see, disguised in an
all-white blanket of whiteout as it is. Communicating by radio, a few
moments later she waves to Libby, at the helm of Princess II, as they
rumble past each other in the field. Big flakes are now chucking down.
Powder Cowboy is all that's great
about B.C. backcountry skiing. Its terrain is wild and heavily treed.
Its dude-ranch lodge is rustic yet decidedly cool. Its staff is
winningly warm and friendly. And it snows here like stink.
That morning, as all 24 guests-mostly
young, male and several looking as if they have a little something
cooking in Silicon Valley-met for orientation and transceiver practice,
up marched one of our two guides for the tour, armed with a smile and a
bear of a handshake. "Hi, guys, I'm Kyle. I'll be you guys's tail
gunner today, eh."
The Siliconers displayed no evidence of difficulties decoding the Cranbrook dialect and the day officially began.
After a short drive to the staging area and a thorough transceiver
practice e, Kyle and Darcy, our lead guide (also a Crannie boy), led us
into the first of many untouched light-as-air powder glades we would
ski that day.
Through the soup of a low-cloud layer,
Darcy pointed out where the Lizard Range-and Powder Cowboy's more
famous corporate cousin, Island Lake Lodge-sits about a kilometre or
two to the east. The two cat operations, as well as Mica Heli Guides,
are owned by the same company. I asked Darcy about the difference, if
any, between the two operations.
"We're home-style over here," he
declared proudly. "The Island Lake guys are the fashion boys." He made
the no-pretensions point by surreptitiously playing a killer rendition
of "Smoke on the Water" on his Avalung. The Siliconers didn't appear to
notice the most famous four-chord riff in rock-and-roll history that's
reverberating through the fir trees around them with delight. I
followed the kazoo-tunes through the glades, with the powder washing up
over my thighs.
A few runs later, at the crest of a
hand-thinned forest, we met up with Russ Beddell, the former owner who
started the operation in the '80s under the name Snowmuch Fun. When we
asked about the new name, Powder Cowboy-a lot of people do, it
seems-Russ explained it was a "management decision." "They wrote down
all the words that they associated with this"-he waved his pole across
a horizon of snow-laden evergreens and a valley of fresh powder-"and
that's what they came up with."
The cowboy moniker certainly makes
sense down at the lodge. Driving in from the highway, first you have to
hunt behind and old sawmill (Powder Cowboy has yet to gain permission
for proper signage), then hack your way 17 km up a pretty hairy logging
road. We arrived, expecting banjos at the ready, and instead found
charming log cabins heated with pot-belly stoves, a beautiful lodge
with a funky open kitchen, wireless access, stables with horses,
llamas, goats--and a genuine Powder Cowboy welcome.
As our day continued, we racked up a
satisfying dozen runs. On the last cat-crawl down to the pickup, over a
final catnip of snacks and drinks, we chatted about the perfect powder
and the comfort of cat riding. Just about then, despite the ambient
warmth inside the cabin, I noticed my derriere was feeling cold-and
wet. Sitting next to me, fast asleep with his drink now spilled over my
pants, my darling tree buddy, Karl, had added a new word to the
lexicon. After a long day of riding like cowboys, we all deserved a
good catnap.
Cat Facts
Snow and Terrain: Powder Cowboy's 2,500 hectares of terrain receives an
average snowfall of almost 900 cm. Each day, guests get 8 to 14 runs,
about 3,000-4,000 vertical metres of bowls, open slopes and
tree-skiing, with the longest run 762 vertical metres.
Capacity: 12 guests and 2 guides for each of two snowcats.
Accommodation: Guests stay at the Bull River Guest Ranch, consisting of
8 guest cabins, a hot tubs and sauna cabin, and the Big Horn Saloon
with dining room, bar and massage rooms.
Packages: $952 for 2 days, low season
only; $1,785-$2,025 for 3 days; $2,380 to $2,700 for 4 days. Prices
include all meals, accommodation and powder ski/board rental.