Ski the backcountry at Island Lake Lodge
Cat-skiers feast on chutes and bowls at Island Lake Lodge
My mama taught me never to gorge myself. “Eat your peas slowly, sonny.” “Chew your food.” “Don’t overeat.” But mama never went cat-skiing at Island Lake Lodge. Mama, God bless her, never pigged out on “pow” after a delicious, thigh-high thumping. If she had, mama would have said, “Sonny, you just keep forkin’ it in. Stuff your face. Go crazy. Gorging is very, very good.”
Sitting snug in the Cedar Creek Valley, just 15 kilometres from Fernie, B.C., Island Lake Lodge is one of the premier places in the world to cat-ski. Blessed with a unique micro-climate that typically pumps over 11 metres of pillow-soft powder annually over these pine-peppered slopes, Island Lake is, in many respects, the birthplace of freeride “feasting.”
“In the early 1990s, the world’s most elite freeride skiers and snowboarders certainly put Island Lake on the map,” said Mike Mcphee, director of sales and marketing on our maiden voyage into the powder-pounded bowls.
“Guys like Greg Stump, Craig Kelly and Scot Schmidt discovered this place and produced some of the most impressive ski films that have ever been made right here. Ask anyone who’s firmly immersed in backcountry ski culture and they’ll have heard plenty of stories of Island Lake.”
With more than 2,800 hectares of privately owned terrain — they are the only cat-ski operation in British Columbia that doesn’t have to tenure land — including gorgeous glade runs, alpine bowls and cliff-lined chutes — powder pigs are certainly in good hands here.
Throw in the luxurious timberframed lodges, the spa, the worldclass cuisine, and it’s not hard to see why people travel from far and wide to experience cat-skiing at Island Lake. Among numerous accolades, in 2009 National Geographic Trav
eler magazine named Island Lake as one of the top places to stay on the globe.
While Island Lake is frequented by numerous U.S. and European visitors — most of whom are loyal, repeat clients — many Albertans also regularly join the fray. After all, the lodge is easily accessible (they meet you in the parking lot off Highway 3 and take you to the lodge via a 20-minute cat ride). It’s about a six-hour drive from the Edmonton area.
After an amazing dinner in the lodge — succulent sablefish exquisitely prepared by chef Keith Farkas and his outstanding crew — it was time to meet the 10 other people that I’d be skiing with for the next three days. Lo and behold, my group, mainly Calgarians, included a couple of former Olympians, a couple of ex-ski racers, a snowboarder from Montreal who claimed to have logged over 1,000 days of big mountain powder skiing, and a handful of other backcountry veterans.
Needless to say, with my three days total of backcountry skiing experience, I wasn’t overly confident in my ability to keep up. But, as luck would have it, the group, which was organized by ex-racer Steve Koles, were not only great skiers, but the type of fun-loving, welcoming folk who make cat-skiing what it ultimately is: one of the most enjoyable, most sociable ways to ski the deeps as has ever been conceived.
“In helicopters you can’t talk,” said guide Kelty Mckenzie, as we clamped in to ski “Face Shot,” a fan-favourite that’s high on the Lizard Range and, like many of the runs, in full view of the lodge.
“Riding up in the cats fuels the camaraderie. It just adds to the fun.”
Naturally, with 40 centimetres of new snow overnight, “fun” and “face shots” were the order of the day.
The fat powder skis, included in every two, three, or four-day tour, are easy to adjust to and allow skiers to float through the pow.
After 20 silky-soft turns down “Face Shot,” the “yeehaws!” started flowing non-stop out of my mouth. And so did the pow.
With non-stop snow falling like manna from heaven, the collective appetite for more only grew in intensity. This was a world-class table that was set for us, and everyone happily partook of the feast.
It didn’t matter whether we skied the gorgeous glade runs off Mount Fernie, the Geisha Bowl, or the sheltered chutes off Mount Baldy, the bounty was of biblical proportions. By the time we were up again (a 12run day is typical), our tracks were covered. Needless to say, finding “freshies” was not a problem.
For three straight days I struggled to keep up with Steve and the gang, but I was a fairly determined skier. And, at the end of Day 3, I was a very happy skier — with a very full belly.