Powder Paradise—Frigid Bliss at Icefall Lodge

Frigid Bliss in the Canadian Rockies

Words and Photos by Mary McIntyre

In the days following New Years Eve, 2020, I made my way north with a group of friends to return to my favorite haunt in the Canadian Rockies, just north of Golden, British Columbia. I’ve been visiting Icefall Lodge for years and each trip brings new conditions, terrain, and photographic opportunities. It often ends up being one of my favorite trips of the year. The Wasatch winter was off to a slow start, and it’s always nice to go somewhere with a deep snowpack early in the season to shake out the legs.

After crossing the border with Keree Smith, Eric Balken, Carston Oliver, Sarah Betts, and Alex Zuhl, we arrived at the helicopter staging area early in the morning for the 15 minute flight into the lodge. As we weighed in and made last minute gear swaps, we were waiting for other skiers to show up – Icefall can sleep upwards of 20 guests, so I was anticipating that we’d be joined by another group or two. It's always fun to guess what kind of people you’ll either be pleased or forced to spend the next week with. But by the time the helicopter arrived, it was clear we were flying in solo, which meant a private week in the massive tenure that had been pounded with snow storms since early November. Stoke was high.

The first place I ever rode in a helicopter was at Icefall Lodge, and each trip, I can’t help taking hundreds of photos out of the scratched windows during the flight. They’re never the best images, but it’s too scenic not to try. The mountains up here are striped with zig-zaggy, acid-melt fault lines, and although most of the terrain we fly over is too far from the lodge for a day trip, I still like to dream about the thousand-foot long pinner couloirs. Maybe one day…

After getting bags and food boxes unloaded and the wood stoves cranked up, we set out to sample the powder. Dusk falls early so far north and just two weeks after the shortest day of the year, but we were all giddy after sinking into a few twilight turns above the lodge. We couldn’t wait for what the next few days had to offer.

Most of my previous trips to Icefall had been in the later months of the year, and our objectives ringed the vast alpine that stretches above the lodge. This trip, we were in for storm after storm, and near zero visibility, which meant dipping into the endless tree skiing. In the spring, the glades were alternating sticky shmoo and icy death traps to battle through at the end of each day. But now, they were lane after lane of deep snow dotted with log launchers. We spent the next few days poking around the old growth, skiing under heavily moss-laden trees and breaking trail through thigh-deep drifts. Each night, the sauna was a welcome respite after hours out in the blizzard.

Near the end of our trip, the storm cycle finally broke, but with the parting of the thick clouds came the beginning of a brutal cold snap. With the newfound visibility, we hoped to reach some of the bigger lines in the broad valley west of the lodge, but with the incredible amount of recent precip and high elevation winds, our exploration was limited to mellower angles. That, and our toes were in serious danger of freezing off. The sun lured us out into the frigid winter wonderland, but we didn’t last long in the -30 degree wind chill.

The last day dawned bright and cold, and after Carston and Balken warmed up with some outhouse airs, we headed up for one last run above the lodge. The landscape felt otherworldly under its fresh coating of snow, with wind-sculpted ridges stretching for miles. I always want to go a little farther, to do one more run, to see what’s around the corner — but for this trip, our time was up. We’d made the most of our powder paradise, skiing our legs off every single day and vastly surpassing our faceshot quota. It was a trip to remember.