On the Road to Find Out

BY RUSS VILHAUER MOGUL BUSTERS SKI SCHOOL TECHNICAL DIRECTOR

“Why do I want to go to Canada to see America Junior?” Homer Simpson

Why indeed, Homer? The answer, dear boy, is as George Mallory once said, “Because it’s there”. The “it” in this case being the Monashees, not Mt. Everest that Mallory died climbing. My idea of mountain climbing is riding a detachable chair with foot rests. I suspect that many mountain climbers at least have passing dreams about scaling Everest much like a weekend jogger aspires to running a marathon. For the record, I judge the latter to be an overrated, painful and humiliating experience.

The brass ring for skiing is powder snow. Powder days at Mt. Hood are spotted with the same frequency as Big Foot. You want the definition oxymoron? Say, “Mt. Hood powder.” The choices boil down to helicopter skiing or snow cat skiing. I chose the cat because, it was within my budget, the cat allows for recovery time between runs and I’m afraid of heights.

I selected the Monashee Powder Experience on the advice of my ski school’s former training director, Tim McDowell. Never mind that Tim had never been there, but when the TD speaks, his charges need to listen. (Can you hear me out there in Mogul Buster land?)

Challenge number one, after blowing my kid’s ASU tuition for next semester, was getting there. One can fly to Kelowna, British Columbia and rent a car. Or you can be cheap and drive. My ride was a 1974 BMW 2002 “tii” which is called the “Pocket Rocket” in some circles. It is a car that predates cup holders, cruise control, intermittent wipers and a sufficient heating system. I left town a day early in case I had to abandon the good ship Bimmer and seek alternate transportation.

In Canada a shopping mall is a “centre” which reminded me of that valuable lesson from third grade grammar, “R before E except after….” I can’t remember the rest. No mattrer.

Another Canadian quirk is the merry K system of calibration. When the speed limit was posted at “110” I had to do the math using all the 6.2 mile road races I’ve embarrassed myself in. They also have signs posted along the way informing you, in kilometers, how far to the next petrol. Math and conversions were never my strong suit. I ran out of gas about 5 “clicks”, which is BC speak for kilometers, west of Kelowna. Stupid American! Fortunately I rolled to a stop at the feet of a good Samaritan, Jeff, who road tests new Freightliner trucks and he gave me a ride to and from the nearest station. I made Kelowna by sunset.

The next day I meandered out to the pick up point with a stop at Silver Star Ski resort where the kaleidoscope of colors on the buildings gives new meaning to the phrase, “paint the town”. After dinner at River Ridge golf course in Cherryville the 25 guests loaded into an old yellow school bus driven by Monashee owner Tom Morgan for a toad’s wild ride up to the next station. I couldn’t remember the last time I rode a school bus to go skiing, but never had it been on narrowing snow covered roads sans chains doing 6 wheel drifts. Tom’s navigational skills are, alone, worth the price of admission. The one hour bus ride was followed by another hour in a snow cat to the lodge. This is remote control.

If you’re wondering when this Bozo is going to get to the skiing, let me remind you that Peter Jackson withheld the monkey for the first hour in “King Kong”. Patience.

After breakfast on the first ski day we were indoctrinated to the mountain procedures including use of transceivers and probes in case somebody got buried in an avalanche. I always thought probes were used to see if the turkey was done. In this case it’s a different kind of turkey. All this safety stuff was secondary to the dying question. Could a boy leavened on Cascade crust really ski this stuff ? The Readers Digest answer is, “sometimes”. There were plenty of falls, drops into camouflaged creek beds and times when was way out of the correct position. But there were also moments when my brain actually transmitted useful information to body parts south and abbra ca dabbra - linked fluid turns. Movement analysis really does work. It also helps to be on skis big enough to burn conventional rocket fuel. Ironically my fat skis are Salomon “Pocket Rockets”. The common denominator between any failure of the skis and the car by the same name would be pilot error.

The Monashee experience is much more than the powder snow, which was in ample supply despite the 3 week dry spell. The guides are able to find untracked snow because their office covers 17,000 acres. Morning wake up is a knock on your door and delivery of fresh coffee. All food is provided including a four course gourmet dinner.

Tom and Carolyn Morgan are wonderful hosts. Their staff knows the meaning of customer service. A special tip of the hat must go to guides Carl and Alex and my fellow guests in the Loki cat who were kind enough to put Humpty Dumpty back together again and again especially Brian Elliot, my ski buddy and Rob “Stretch” MacLeod, my roommate.