March 9, 2010 – With barely a break to catch our collective breath after the Olympics, the Paralympics are coming to town and judging by the weather forecast, the games will be heralded by tons of fresh powder – 50 centimeters or more by the weekend. As this epic winter continues, it’s still a rarity to line up at the lifts. Last week I saw a 45 second wait at the bottom of the Symphony Express, turned to my buddy and asked “What’s all this about?” eliciting a chuckle. But that’s how accustomed Whistlerites have become to skiing straight on to a lift this season. I wonder if the secret will finally get out as we begin 2010/2010’s last 10 weeks of skiing.
This past weekend my wife had a birthday. We’d decided that the best gifts are experiences rather than things so with that in mind I was wracking my brain about a possible new adventure for us. As luck would have it, my friend Paul had recently mentioned a ski-in, ski-out lodge in the Callaghan Valley: The Callaghan Lodge. I’d cross-country skied once during my first week in Whistler, over 2 years ago. I remember it being both exhausting and frustrating with my skis collecting big clods of sticky snow, giving me the feeling of trudging around in platform boots. But that was before I’d ever been on a snowboard. With 2.5 seasons of snow-faring experience behind me, I figured that the 13km trail up to the lodge with a 560m elevation gain would be more than doable.
I have a long history of getting in way over my head.
As soon as we started on the trail (the first 7km of which is uphill) it began to snow heavily. While it was very scenic, the pair of us were traveling at noticeably less than walking speed. Some elite cross country enthusiasts can make the journey in hour, though most recreational skiers manage it in 2-4 hours. By the time we got to the 3km marker, I figured we were looking at an unimpressive 5 hour trip, perhaps even longer. Making us feel slightly less pathetic were experienced skiers on the trail who all commented on what a sticky slog it had become.
After a lunch stop three hours into the journey, we gamely trudged on as the heavy snow completely erased the groomed grooves we’d been following for the past 4 hours. Crestfallen, I kicked off my skiis and resolved to walk up the remainder of the trail when a guy on a snowmobile magically arrived and asked us if we needed a lift for the remaining 3 undulating kilometers to the warm sanctuary of the lodge. Though he made it sound casual, it was clear that he’d been sent to rescue us and we gratefully took him up on his offer.
We were met at the lodge by Evan and Kirsti, two magnanimous Aussies who’d been running the lodge’s day to day operations for four consecutive winters. The welcome was warm and the lodge was an oasis of comfort from the worsening blizzard. There’s no TV, radio, internet, only sporadic phone service and the electricity is run by a generator which is used sparingly, just a few hours in the morning and a few in the evening, yet propane heaters keep the lodge (which can sleep a maximum of 24 people) toasty warm. Though Whistler Village and the Sea to Sky highway is just over yonder, you truly get the feeling of being in the deep wilderness.
In addition to the lodge hosts just one other couple were sharing the 5,000 square foot lodge, and over appetizers and a bottle of wine ,or two, we chatted by the fireplace as in quickly grew dark outside. After an amazing four course dinner made by chef Evan and a little more wine we retired to our cosy room but not before the clouds disappeared and with no light pollution around we experienced an other-worldly starry night. On the journey up to the lodge, visibility was so poor that we couldn’t get a real idea of where we were, but under the next mornings crystalline blue skies, we could appreciate the lodge’s location above a small lake and nestled in the deep, steep sided valley, everything blanketed in feet upon feet of powder. A lot of visitors to the lodge use it as a home base from which to head out ski or snowboard touring, but after breakfast we took a couple of toboggans to an incline behind the lodge.
Conditions for the return were completely opposite to the previous day; blue skies, a perfectly groomed track and an almost entirely downhill journey in front of us. Evan made us a bagged lunch and we got things underway, giving ourselves plenty of time. Yesterday’s wet cement was now as smooth as buttered glass. Never having tried downhill skiing before — and not knowing how to snow-plough – meant a lot of me hurtling down the trail and quite a bit of falling over. Yet for the most part it was effortless and painless. As we stopped to have lunch at shores of the frozen Callaghan Lake, Brad Sills – the man behind the construction of the lodge — dropped by via snowmobile to say hi.
Eventually, after plenty of thrills and spills on the steep homestretch, we made it back to the base at Alexander Falls where I was told that it had been a fantastic birthday adventure and my status as a thoughtful husband consolidated…at least until next year.
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