CASTLE MOUNTAIN
A hardcore skier’s unpretentious delight
A westerly wind whips over the ice-caked ridgeline and I — standing alone at top of the legendary Lone Star run at Castle Mountain — make a solemn promise. I will ski this unrelenting, leg-killing run from start to finish ... without stopping. I will, thanks to my diligent gym work (squats and lunges are good for skiing stamina, the internet told me) make it to the bottom in one courageous, syrupy-smooth line. Sure, Lone Star is one badass run, boasting 520 vertical metres of consistent 40-degree pitch (one of the longest in North America, they say). But I can do this. I think.
I ease my tips over the edge and begin my daring descent. After making 25 turns, give or take, in thighdeep powder my legs start burning. And I’m maybe a 10th of the way down. Ten more turns and I can feel my heart pumping like a piston and, thanks to extreme exhaustion, I’m barely in control of what I’m doing. Five more painful and pitiful turns later — not even a quarter of the way down — my dream is dashed. I stop, buckle over, and wonder why the world has been depleted of all its oxygen. Apparently, I didn’t train quite hard enough.
Located in the far southwest corner of Alberta, approximately twoand-a-half hours from Calgary near the town of Pincher Creek, Castle Mountain is a skier’s mountain. A good skier’s mountain. Sure, thanks to the expansion in 2006 when a massive swath of beginner and intermediate terrain opened on Haig Mountain, the family-friendly virtues of the resort were bolstered significantly. However, in spite of this relatively mellow “green” and “blue” terrain, an unpretentious, hardcore skier vibe has prevailed at Castle Mountain.
And it is runs like LoneStar — as well as the entire South Side Chutes (this advanced area is composed of a dozen or so super-steep chutes) — that have sealed the deal in terms of Castle’s legendary status as a serious mountain that is revered by even the most fearless freeriders.
However, besides the South Side Chutes, advanced skiers (and, of course, snowboarders) have plenty of other places at the resort to groove their maniacal moves ... and their stamina. For example, the snow-smothered bowls off North Peak have plenty of advanced lines for seasoned skiers. And the steep glades on the north side of the resort can be heaven for powder hounds. (The mountain boasts 94 runs, seven lifts, three terrain parks, eight alpine bowls, 3,592 acres of terrain, and a vertical of 863 metres.)
As much as the rugged, windblasted terrain ( yes, given its lo- cation in southwest Alberta, the wind can be a factor at Castle) has contributed to its reputation, the overall atmosphere — including a no-frills hostel that doubles as the hotel, one of the most authentic ski-bum bars in Canada, and decades-old double chairs that will make you second-guess what decade you’re in — is what sets Castle Mountain apart. There are no overpriced, hoity-toity boutique shops in the village. No Fairmont properties. No glitz. No glamour. Castle Mountain is, and forever will be, a grassroots mountain that speaks to hardcore, down-to-earth types who relish skiing for what it was always meant to be: something “out there,” something adventurous, and something that can humble you in a heartbeat.
Fittingly, Castle Mountain is also home to the Powder Stagecoach, a resort-based cat-skiing operation that’s ideal for skiers who want a taste of backcountry powder skiing. It’s also a perfect solution for strong intermediate and advanced skiers who want to test their mettle while the rest of their less-adventurous clan carves the groomers. The fullday adventure starts with breakfast, a safety talk from the professional guides, and instructions on using the avalanche beacons. After the preliminaries, skiers gear-up and ride the Huckleberry Triple Chair before boarding the Powder Stagecoach for the distant bowls higher up on Haig Mountain. The fullyguided adventure starts at $399 per person.
On my spring visit in March 2017, the powder dumps (Castle Mountain receives, on average, 900 centimetres of snow per year) were a sweet introduction for my wife and kids to the merits of raw and rugged, big mountain powder skiing. And they ate it up. Literally. After a couple of runs on the Tamarack Chair — and a handful of worldclass faceplants in North Bowl — they were spent and retreated to the T-bar for pizza. (Besides the authentic, 80s-era, ski-bum atmosphere, the pizza in T-bar is delicious, widely considered the best thin-crust pie in southern Alberta.)
Feeling “fit” for more — and yes, I know, I need to be careful how I use that word — I decided to test my mettle in the South Side Chutes. You know, when in Rome. So, with the family safe and sound and getting schooled in “old school” skibum culture at the base, I pounced on the Sundance Chair, then the Tamarack Chair, and traversed over to the infamous “chutes.” I felt good. Primed for an epic, nonstop descent on Lone Star. But you already know how that turned out.