Malakwa Gorge

The season is short!

This is the mantra repeated throughout the winter whenever Brenda and I need a little extra motivation -- to climb up for one more run, to force ourselves out of bed at some ungodly hour on a Saturday morning, or to convince ourselves that it's worth getting out of town for both days on the weekend rather than for just one easy day trip.

So I mention that for a couple of reasons...

One is that the freezing level in Rogers Pass is starting to creep higher up the mountain sides and we're beginning to feel the first real strength in the sun's rays. With 4 months of skiing already behind us it's hard to think of the season as being in any way short -- but oh man I am so not ready for spring! I much prefer the cold snowy weather of December and January to the warm days of spring. It's a mixed blessing of course because the longer days give skiers the chance to try some bigger traverses and stuff where one needs all of the daylight they can get. But still...I already miss the cold deep snow that makes midwinter skiing so effortless and magical.

The other reason is that the "mantra" didn't work this weekend. We were seduced by pleasant thoughts of 10 hours of sleep and a long leisurely Sunday morning breakfast. Doh.

So off to Malakwa for the day on Saturday morning with Fred. We met Steve and started up the logging road. We'd heard reports that the logging company had finally stopped plowing up to 12K and that they were taking out trees lower down on the road. We soon came across a new cut block and some of the tools of the trade.





Witnessing the results of logging inevitably leaves me feeling hollow inside. I find it difficult to reconcile all of the conflicting elements. I mean here we are driving up a road to go skiing for fun yet we owe the existence of the road to all of the destruction that we see around us. It just seems to me that clear cut logging is overly brutal and unnecessarily vicious.

We motored our way upwards in Brenda's little CRV as far as we could. We tried first one set of chains, then a second set on the rear wheels, but eventually admitted defeat and simply parked on the side of the road.



Nevertheless we did manage to get in a nice day of skiing despite the low elevation at which we started. We climbed up from the car through old cut blocks and thin trees. As we got higher the snow changed from sloppy, to wet, to slightly crusty, and eventually into dense powdery snow -- at which point we ran out of mountain.

Down we went. Hilarity ensued when we eventually reached the gloppy wet snow. Sadly no crashes were caught on film.




Afterwards we stopped at The Burner again for a pint. We were served by a delightfully rotund and rather hirsute woman who had the deepest huskiest voice of anyone I know, male or female. It was perfect.

This time I sampled another Crannog beer called "Gael's Blood". The beer is noted for its bitterness. I was somewhat taken aback when the waitress cringed as I placed the order saying that she found it extremely bitter. Coming from a woman of such obviously strong character I was mildly alarmed.

I think I'll stick with "The Backhand of God" next time.