By Nancy Liknes

For the first time in years, the piles of snow along the side of the road up to Whitewater ski resort (Nelson, British Columbia’s home hill) were at least six feet high. Just about everybody was feeling lucky that morning, and with 17 cm of new snow overnight, clear skies and snow that sparkled brighter than a rhinestone cowboy, there was no sense in lingering over coffee. The 2005/6 season has been good over here in North America and Whitewater’s base was over 300 cm by the beginning of January. Today, March 26th, there are still 332cms of magnificent Kootenay snow.

My friend Jesse and I turned off the highway to climb the last 10 km up to the resort. I kept an eye out for hitchhikers while he avoided driving into ice holes. We were too early for hitchhikers that morning, but any time after 10 am, we would have seen at least a couple of brightly coloured skiers or snowboarders popping gaily out of the woods, all of them squealing and laughing, and most of them still wearing their face shots. Some don’t even undo their bindings before throwing their thumbs out, hoping to get a fast ride back up to the top of the hill.

There were about 30 of us waiting impatiently for the first chairs up and everyone was excited - joking, calling out hellos and stomping their planks. Nelson is a small mountain community so many of us know each other and there is a definite air of camaraderie on big snow days.  Jesse and I rode three fast runs through perfect powder before deciding to trek on over to the backside and become hitchhikers ourselves.

My favourite backside launching spot is on a plateau next to a triangle of giant Spruces which someone has decorated with Tibetan prayer flags. This is a beloved landing for many locals and there were already a few people there when we arrived. As I waited for Jesse to avail himself of a locally harvested speciality, I sat and watched the prayer flags snap merrily in the wind.

The Tibetan word for prayer flag is, Lung ta, which means Wind Horse. The prayers contained on each flag are meant to be carried out to all beings as a blessing for their happiness, enlightenment and protection. Horses are deeply rooted in Tibetan culture and the Wind Horse symbolizes the fastest and most powerful horse of them all.  

I could feel my own heart swell with happiness, and sometimes, when the sun shines down on my face like that, it’s all I can do not to stop every person I meet so that I can give them a hug. And most Nelsonites would agree that stopping strangers to hug them because you are overwhelmed by the beauty of it all, is entirely acceptable behaviour. Like anywhere, there are a number of different communities in Nelson, but creativity, grassroots politics, natural foods and excellent parties are what governs this town, and it has been that way for a while…
 
The first big influx of peaceniks came to Nelson in the form of an exiled Russian religious sect popularly known as the Doukhobors, who (with the help of Leo Tolstoy and those industrious Quakers) first immigrated to Canada in 1898. As pacifists, the Doukhobors (which means Spirit Wrestler in Russian) suffered centuries of Tsarist persecution for openly rejecting military conscription and state authority. By the time they settled in the West Kootenays, some of their numbers (the infamous Sons of Freedom) were frequently using public nudity as a form of peaceful protest. A method of remonstration which was subsequently embraced by the next generation of peaceniks: American draft dodgers looking to avoid the horrors in Vietnam.

When an estimated 14 000 such US citizens arrived in the West Kootenays via the Underground Railroad in the late 1960s, they were welcomed and assisted by both the Doukhobors and the Quakers of this region. There can be no question that the ideals of all three of these groups positively influenced Nelson’s strong subculture of activism, protest and alternative lifestyles. That is also why our senior citizens have dread locks and wear their denim cut-off shorts a little too short. 

When I opened my eyes, the sun was still shining but the mood had changed. A friend of Jesse’s was standing about three feet across from me, Velvet, and she was looking somewhat bewildered and increasingly upset as she fumbled with her mittens. Jesse called out Velvet’s name and asked her how she was as he made his way over. She looked up, and seemed about to smile and to wave, but then she looked down again and told him that she was not so good, and then she asked him if he had heard about Carey.

Neither Jesse nor I knew him, but we had heard about it the night before. Carey had died in an avalanche on Hummingbird Pass two days ago. His wife and their 6 month old child were the first two people I thought of when I woke up that morning. One of Velvet’s friends (and probably one of Carey’s too) finally managed to disentangle himself from his gear and had come over to give Velvet a hug.

It seemed wrong to leave her like that, but grief is tricky, and about the only thing you can do for it is let it go. After standing around for a few more minutes of mute support,  I asked her if she wanted a piece of the balled up, 3rd rate toilet tissue I had borrowed from the Ladies room that morning, but she declined so going seemed like the best thing to do.

After stopping about a third of the way down to melt the tears that had frozen on the inside of my goggles, I again welcomed the cold fresh air into my lungs and tightened the bindings on my boots.

Everybody knows backcountry touring is dangerous; there are courses you can take and gear you can buy, but having that stuff and knowing those things will not guarantee your salvation. When someone dies in an avalanche, our entire community feels the loss deeply because we understand that the breathtaking beauty of the backcountry is what inspired him to be out there taking risks in the first place.

I wanted my bindings to be as tight as possible so I could finish that run at maximum speed.  I wanted to be as swift as a Tibetan Wind Horse, subduing negative forces and sending blessings of happiness, enlightenment and protection to alpine skiers, snowboarders, snowmobilers, heli-skiers, snowshoers cat skiers, Nordic skiers and dog sledders everywhere – I wanted my blessings to go out to each and every person everywhere who understands the joy of snow - even all the way down there in Queenstown, New Zealand.

 

Nancy Liknes is a Kiwi-loving Canuk who loves to play outside. She's living in Nelson, BC right now enjoying the end of a fabulous North American Winter and dreams of one day venturing to the land of the long white cloud. Hopefully she brings snow with her when she does.

Photo 1 & 2 by Nancy Liknes

Photo 3 by Jesse Ewert