CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT During the winter months, Rogers Pass Discovery Centre acts as the de facto base lodge for a wide variety of local and out-of-town ski bum. Rogers Pass mind surf, drama included. Matt Bunker enjoys the fruits of a brutal boot-pack in a powder-packed couloir off Mount Tupper near the western ridge of Rogers Pass. If you ever want a full panorama of Revelstoke culture, spend a Saturday night at a Grizzlies hockey game at the Revelstoke Forum. I CAN TELL YOU WHAT REVY ISN’T: a resort town. Revelstoke has, by and large, avoided transcendence to the heart-wrenching status of its Western mega-resort peers. It’s a rural mountain town that happens to have a world-class resort. That’s not a trivial distinction. Strolling through downtown reveals a poignant nostalgia for the way ski towns once were, before alpine-themed boutique village shopping centers sprouted across North America. The ski hill—“hill” being a modest term for the most inbounds vertical on the continent—is a 10-minute drive from town. Close enough to be part of town; far enough to not be the town. Après still takes place off the hill at local watering holes, at semi-professional hockey games and at the public aquatic center hot tub. This modest perception of Revy fits a vastly local and long-term seasonal clientele—folks who buy their passes early and milk them for more than 100 days per year. The town’s unof-ficial “powder clause” draws bigger crowds to midweek storm days than bluebird weekends when tourists flock. You’ll find a few diligent souls still manning essential services, but show up to the coffee shop when there’s a foot of fresh, and expect some saltiness with your latte. I’m an experienced seasonal powder pilgrim, but by no means am I local. I’m not even Canadian (though I hold out hope). I’m part of a large contingent of seasonal transplants, most commonly found each evening at the public aquatic center sauna, Wednesday-night karaoke at the Regent, or any-where that provides warmth, cheap food and cheaper beer. We hail from the States, Australia, Quebec, Australia, Chilé, Australia, and the Alps. But we’re not here for the weekend or even the week. We’re here for the season (though many of us would stay forever, visas and legality aside), a group of nomads unable to truly stay, but unwilling to leave. After all, this is hallowed ground. But to weave yourself into the town fabric, you’d have to put your time in, to show up. It’s not a relationship that can develop overnight. As limited access (over six hours from Vancouver Interna-tional Airport or five from Calgary) protects Revelstoke from casual passersby, you’ll find that people don’t ski because they’re in Revy; they’re in Revy because they ski . The journey here requires intentionality. The region’s combination of world-class terrain and deep, light, right-side-up powder at the confluence of the Monashees and Selkirks attracted some of the first heli-ski operations in North America, and during the decades since, film crews, professionals, amateurs, the “fun-employed” and the legitimately unemployed have made the trek to the prow of BC’s Powder Highway to test their mettle in some of the finest pillows this side of the Pacific. While several high-profile pros have put down roots in the valley, most are living a financially modest, experientially rich existence. As a longtime nomadic inhabitant of an ’80s-era Ford, I have a deep appreciation for places that embrace the transient and frugal vehicle-dwelling community. It’s a recognition that, no matter where we’re from or what we’re worth, we’re all here for the same reason. Seeing a groggy-eyed neighbor putting on ski boots outside their tent, watching a light flicker in the car tucked in the back of the truck stop, or partying with nine buddies who raucously—and with questionable legality—share a two-bedroom apartment affirms a unified commitment. Nowhere embraces that pinnacle of ski bummery quite like Rogers Pass. The eastern of two passes on the main thoroughfare, Rogers is the kind of place that incites excite-ment and fear in the hearts of almost everyone who winds Highway 1 between Golden and Revelstoke. The snow is some of the finest in the Kootenays, if not the world; the avalanche probability is among the highest. The views from the road are second-to-none; the number of vehicular accidents also shares that distinction. Increased usage and lack of awareness of the Winter Permit System only exacerbates these issues (the permits are free but are required to ski at Rogers). The pass epitomizes risk and reward. Every morning at 7 a.m., the doors to the visitor center open, the avalanche bulletin is posted, the park announces which zones are closed for highway and railroad avalanche control, and a half-dozen crews file in to make plans for the day’s tour. On a powder day, you can expect a healthy smattering of locals getting an alpine start from town, navigat-ing around trundling semis to arrive in the parking lot five minutes before the visitor center opens. Those folks are a dedicated bunch and, if you’re lucky, they’ll lay a mean skin-track, fueled by Timmy’s, La Baguette, or the fact that they took a shower the previous night and slept in a real bed. Revelstoke 055
The Ski Journal Volume 15, Issue 1: Page 55
