My meeting was on Monday so I woke early Sunday morning. Three hours in the car got me good and lost in downtown Vancouver trying to get to the north side of town and the local ski area. As I finally started driving up the twisting road it started snowing.

Excellent.

The parking lot was filling up even though the chairs weren't actually scheduled to open for several more weeks. There was just enough snow for skiing and it wasn't so deep hiking was a problem. I stayed on the trail to the left of the slopes and made good time. Well, at least until it got postholey.

Snowshoes helped. I felt bad for the backcountry skiers that were trying to negotiate the narrow trail with plenty of obstacles. Suckers. I bet they thought something similar when they were swishing their way down the slopes. Suckers.

The ski area boundary came and went and the terrain got spicier. There was the trail that descended and warned of certain death. And the one that curved up climber's left that a couple of skiers told me not to follow. I guess we take the one that goes right under that really big cliff? Sure. Why not?

Switchbacks for a bit and then straight up. People started turning back, but me? Nope. I'm not smart enough to turn back. I just kept climbing. The wind started blowing harder and the trees became krummholz. Ice covered everything. It was lovely.

By the time I neared the summit there were no tracks to follow. Did I follow the trail? Hard to say. There were definitely routes that didn't go, but also plenty that did. I took one of the latter and stood atop First Peak with zero views.

I had actually hoped to go Third Peak, but after warnings from a couple of others that appeared to really know what they were talking about and looking into the swirling storm it was apparent that was a bad idea. Look at me being smrt!

With ice clinging to my beard, I turned to head down. Only one other person was at the summit. He was planning to snowboard down. I never saw him again. Draw your own conclusions.

This is the part of the post where I write something like, "The walk out wasn't anything special." Except this time I didn't just follow the same route out. I decided to cross the slopes and come down the east side of the mountain. Pro-tip: Don't cross the slopes in hopes of coming down the east side of the mountain.

I descended toward Mystery Lake, but not on a trail. Oh, no. Where would the fun be in that? It was certainly more fun to get to the lake and realize there was a 10 foot cliff all along the western shore and the ice was too thin to walk across. I tried to find a way to get to the other, more mellow side, but in the end had to climb back up. Boo!

After that, it was an easy descent. Skiers zipped by me while I high stepped through the powder on the edge of the runs. The parking lots had filled and cars were parked down the street.

It's hard to believe it took less time to get to Vancouver's mountains than it does to get to some spots in Washington. Maybe we'll have to do more trips to the north and explore there.

📍On the lands of the Skwxwú7mesh-ulh Temíx̱w (Squamish) people.