Essay

Getting comfortable with white mountains

By Peter Skov

It was in Japan where I first learned to overcome any concerns I had of venturing out into the winter mountains. This may sound strange coming from a Canadian, who you would expect to have plenty of experience with snow. Of course, during my years in Canada, I spent many winter days enjoying snow, swooshing down mountainsides on skis or on a snowboard. But those winter activities are enjoyed on groomed mountainsides with the comforting arms of civilization reaching up from the bottom (or sometimes down from the top) of the run. What I am talking about now is learning to stray beyond the yellow rope boundaries and into the alpine wilderness with a meter of powder under my snowshoes.

Every year on the mountains around North Vancouver and Whistler there are reports of skiers and snowboarders going out of bounds and being rescued a day or two later from some steep snow-filled ravine. The back country, as I came to understand, was a hazardous wilderness for only outdoor veterans with thousands of dollars of gear. The summer/autumn mountaineer shouldn't dream of heading into that beautiful but deadly world.

But the Canadian wilderness is vast and expansive. The peaks continue marching on far beyond the horizon. In Japan, population centers are separated by only four or five ranges at the most and there are many lodges and ski areas near popular winter mountaineering areas. As a result, Japanese mountains seem far more accessible and have an appreciable amount of winter traffic. Conversely, in Canada the winter back country snow is barely scuffed by human feet.

So my first visit into the snow country of the North Alps of Japan was without trepidation, safe in the knowledge that several hotels and lodges were nearby. My friend and I marched out into the snow early the next morning. We ascended a slope of fresh powder and found a suitable viewpoint from which to admire the remarkable world of Japan's winter peaks. We had walked away from the edge of civilized comfort and for a moment could feel we were celebrating the austere beauty of a still winter morning, 2,600 meters above sea level. It was only a first step for me but one that left me with the impression that winter mountaineering was perfectly reasonable and within my abilities, at least in Japan.

The mountains have to be respected for their dangers any time of year. However, I now feel confident enough to venture out into the snow above the ski slopes and admire the corniced ridges and fluted cliffs from up close. In 2008, I want to take my winter explorations a few steps further.

Shukan ST: Jan. 11, 2008

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