Erme Catino finding solace in the subalpine. Monashee Mountains, B.C. Photo: Louis Arevalo PERHAPS IT’S THE ROMANTIC in me, but I love the tranquility of breaking trail in the Monashees—a range that translates to “Mountains of Peace” in Gaelic. While all hut trips allow an opportunity to step back from life’s chaos, I’ve found that beginning the winter at a place like Sol carries positive momentum through the entire season. I could go on handfuls of trips and have incredible days, but I’ll still recall those first turns in the Monashees. After all, it’s hard to forget cold smoke up to your neck and celebratory lodge beers under December’s early twilight. Throughout the week, Arevalo and I linked several tenure zones in a day, blasting powder and exploring new areas. To-ward the end of our week we even tested our luck farther down valley, skiing and sussing out a burn and wind-sheltered forest. “I didn’t know you had volcanoes in the Monashees,” Are-valo snickered to Aaron one night after we raced the setting sun from Bill Fraser Lake to the top of Shiraz—a beautiful south-facing run that beckons from the lodge’s kitchen window. It was as if the mountains had transformed into an active Ring of Fire. Accompanied by a stiff wind and billowing snow plumes, the sun and moon battled for dusk’s favor. Off to the west, Sol Mountain and the lodge basked in gold, while to the southeast the Slocan Valley, obscured by fog, looked like a sea dotted by island peaks. A contrail shot across the rising moon, as though the day had entered one more psychedelic trip before falling into slumber. The Mountains of Peace grew extra quiet. Arevalo and I watched as the sun faded, a season’s worth of turns still spread out in front of us. 042 The Ski Journal
The Ski Journal Volume 14, Issue 1: Page 42
