![]() We stop halfway down to make the hike up to Middle Ridge, dropping into Rudi’s Bowl at the back of the in-bounds ski area, where more steep, powder turns are made easy by fluffy, dry snow. Visibility clears as we reach the ski area boundary and make jump turns down steep, thigh-high powder. We go straight up Ozone, the easiest of Kicking Horse’s five hike-up peaks, ascending over 700ft in about 25 minutes, battling horizontal snow. ![]() In the capable guiding hands of ski school head Toby, I fare slightly better the next day. We finally call it a day with a late lunch of elk-and-bison bolognese and berry cheesecake at Eagle’s Eye Restaurant, which offers views of the Purcell, Selkirk, and Rocky Mountains from its floor-to-ceiling windows. It’s quiet, though: a busy day sees around 3,000 skiers. Kicking Horse has the highest proportion of ‘expert’ skiing of any resort in North America (60%). They’re all ‘double black diamond’ (North America’s most technically demanding slope grade), offering thrilling challenges in the sort of quick succession that I’ve only ever experienced with an avalanche bag on my back and a transceiver strapped to my chest. Eight miles down the road is the logging and railway town of Golden - the base for the Freeride World Tour - which offers more places to stay (at lower prices) and aĪfter ascending on the Golden Eagle Express gondola, we ski various chutes off CPR Ridge and Redemption Ridge, decorated with lurid names like ‘Slap Chute’, ‘One Trick Pony’, ‘Consequence’ and ‘Dare’. At the heart of the resort are a handful of shops, restaurants, bars and slope-side lodgings. Kicking Horse comprises five hike-to peaks with a series of ridges and bowls, and myriad chutes that lead down into gentle tree-lined ‘aprons’ of broad, open ski terrain. This place, and Kicking Horse itself, is often a hub for those heading deeper into British Columbia’s heli-ski country.īack to Coffin Tree, and Gilles seems undeterred by my clumsy fall, skiing on at breakneck speed, showing me his favourite lines, including pillows (snow-covered boulders) and chutes (little couloirs, to us Europeans). Owners Ken and Lori Chilibeck, who built the lodge, have been offering respite to hardcore skiers for nearly 20 years and know what they need. Having arrived at Kicking Horse, I checked into the virtually slope-side, log-built Vagabond Lodge, where the sight of the ski room alone - complete with ski vices, screwdrivers, wax, irons and maps for adventure planning - was enough to turn that excitement into nervous anticipation. A few days in Whistler, Vancouver, beforehand had seen off the jet lag and warmed up the ski legs, and as I drove from Calgary airport out through Banff national Park, along the Trans-Canada Highway, my excitement grew. As a qualified ski instructor who’d done a fair bit of heli-skiing, I thought I was up to the job. There are only two main lifts for its 3,486 acres of skiable terrain - an area that grew by a third last winter when new peak, Ozone (8,200ft), was added. Located in British Columbia, Canada’s westernmost province, near the Alberta border, it’s a tiny resort, founded in 2000 from a community skiing area and the surrounding heli-skiing territory. Not the best start to three days in Kicking Horse Mountain Resort. I pick myself up, and ski down to Gilles. I jump, avoid the tree stump, and land squarely on my forehead. Teetering on the edge, unable to look at anything other than the tree stump positioned dead centre in the landing zone, I wonder where the hell my courage has gone. ![]() There is indeed a drop-in, about two metres, which Gilles hops as daintily as ballet dancer before tucking in a couple of turns down the 45-degree incline and stopping to watch me, in anticipation. ![]() He whips around pine trees in front of me, as we make our way along the notorious CPR Ridge - terrifying drops on either side - to the top of a narrow chute named Coffin Tree.
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