CROWFOOT '97
This year we had a couple of new riders with us on our trip. My buddy Brad had just bought a new Formula 583, and we had a pair of twin brothers with us, James and Jeff Hildebrandt. This was in addition to John & Nancy, Hickey and myself. James had a '96 Summit 670, his brother Jeff borrowed James' Exciter II complete with paddles and a high altitude kit for the clutch, and we installed paddles on Brads' Formula. I had bought a new '97 Summit 670, and the only thing I have done to this machine so far is install a set of aluminum mountain bars.
Brad and I left Fort McMurray on a Saturday morning, and we had arranged to meet up with everyone at the Quaaout Lodge in Chase, B.C. This hotel is approximately 15 - 20 minutes from Crowfoot mountain, our destination for this trip. The rest of the group was spread out all over the province. John and Nancy were already in Edmonton, James and Jeff had been in Calgary for a couple of days, and Hickey was still at work and wouldn't be joining us until Tuesday. We caught up to Johnny on the road, so we traveled together until we hit the hotel, which was somewhere around 10:00 pm local time. The Hildebrandts were already checked in.
Sunday morning was cloudy and overcast, but mild. John and Nancy had to jet their machines, so we killed some time in the staging area while they did, and then we headed up the trail. I predicted that we would be able to climb above the clouds and see some sun, as the cloud cover was quite low. For once in my miserable life, I was right, it was warm and sunny, without a cloud in the sky. As a matter of fact, we had to wear sunglasses, the glare off the snow was so intense. After we arrived at the alpine, Nancy decided that her jetting was wrong, but she left her jet board in the truck, so back down she went. I decided to give Brad and the Hildebrandts a little tour of the immediate area while we waited for John and Nancy to return.
Heading up on the first day, spirits are pretty high!
Directly out in front, beyond the trees is Shuswap Lake. You can't see it, that is cloud you are looking at. They aren't having too nice of a day down below in Celista.
It didn't take me too long to realize that the Hildebrandts are not mountain men. Never have been. Never will be. What did I really expect from two guys born and raised in Saskatoon?
The Hildebrandts at the beginning of the trip. Looks like everything is going to be just great!
We started with some nice easy rolling meadows, and eventually ended up playing on a long uphill. It wasn't that steep, but it was about 1/2 mile in length. From there we went over to one of the "playpens", as the locals call them. It is basically a bowl where you can climb up out of. Some are like a bowl, most have a hill on one side and you throw your self at it until all of the powder is gone. Then you move on to the next playpen. The wind can fix it up like new overnight. James was unsure about climbing these hills. The closest thing he has ever experienced was over the snowbanks on the side of the road between the wheat fields. Jeff, on the other hand was quite sure. "No F@$*ing way am I climbing that!" I figured that all the boys needed was to see someone else do it, and then they might come to realize that it wasn't too difficult, maybe even fun. I went up, as high as I could, until I came upon the cornice that was projecting out from the top lip, and then turned back down and made my descent. Brad was pretty quiet up till now, but once he saw what it was like, his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree and there would be no holding him back. He didn't go as high, but almost, not a bad first attempt. You have to understand that where we ride, the only time we something this steep, it is no more than 15 - 20 feet high. Until you get used to it, it can be quite intimidating. The timing of a turnout is probably the hardest thing you have to learn. Nobody with any self respect would turn out while trying to climb a 15 foot hill, so this was also brand new to us. As a matter of fact, I even got stuck on this hill, as can be seen in the photo. This was kind of embarrasing, because the hill isn't really difficult.
Thats me getting unstuck, and Brookes is giving me the business
Eventually we got James to give it a go. He did a couple of feeble attempts, but he did do it. They say that dogs can smell fear, and if that is true, then Jimmy stunk that day! Before we left this playpen, we still had one more thing to do, and that was to come off the top. As you can see in the photo, there are some tracks on the cornice. These tracks were left by people who dropped off over the ledge. If you don't jump it, you get about a 5 or 6 foot drop, depending on the size of the cornice that day. When you jump, the drop is a lot bigger! Don't ask me why, but James decided to go up and through the cornice rather than down it. You don't see it in the picture, but off to the side the cornice is only about 1 foot, and someone had previously gone over at this point. The hill wasn't as steep here either. It was here that James made his attempt, and he went over the top. "That's it" he proclaimed. "I did it, no one can take it away from me, and I'm never going to do it again!" True to his word, he became a spectator for the rest of the trip. I pity his poor brother, who, on the drive home, is going to have to listen to this.
Brad works on his melanoma, while the John & Nancy work on their carbs.
Same hill as before, only Brookes is stuck now.
We left the playpen and headed over to ride in another bowl, however this one had more docile hills, the kind that don't make you soil your pants when you bog down ( if you are the type who soils their pants). We even got Jeff to try a few hills, in a desperate attempt to assert his manhood. The area we were in was maybe a mile across, and the hills were maybe 80 to 100 feet high, but the angle was not as extreme as the playpens. One or two of us would take runs at the hills, while the other two would watch, and then we would watch while the others did their thing. Still no sign of John and Nancy yet. They had gone down a little more than an hour ago. Eventually, the four of us were sitting around talking at the bottom of the hills, and Brad pointed towards a hill and said "you should try that hill over there, it's a blast".
"Which one" I said, "That one over there by the trees?"
"No, the other one."
"You mean by that big hump of snow?"
"Yeah," he sort of said. "Over there"
"It doesn't look too special".
"Just wait until you go over the top" he replied. "You can get a bit of air"
"Which one, to the right side of that rock," I questioned?
"Yeah, on the left hand side".
"Oh, you mean by the dead tree?" I guessed.
"No, the other one!"
"Yeah, ok." I gave up. We shot the breeze for a few more minutes, and then I heard the sounds of an XCR with pipes over the other side of the hill. That was John and Nancy looking for us. We were kind of out of the way, so I flipped on my helmet and took off after them. I figured I would try the hill that Brad was talking about, I thought I had a pretty good idea of where he meant. Besides that, there was an interesting looking hill in the general direction he was pointing to, and we had to get over this ridge so that John could see us. As I approached the hill, I started to get on the gas. It wasn't a very big hill, at least not for the mountains. Nearing the top, I noticed that the terrain didn't look right, there were a lot of trees not too far back from what appeared to be the top of the hill. I was on a one horse track, there was no room for a turnout, so I eased off a little. As soon as I hit the top, I let go of the throttle and got on the brake, as I could see that there was nowhere to go. I did get a bit of air, but only had about 15 feet to land, and then I was in the trees. I did manage to stop before I hit anything, but my nose was sticking in between some small trees, only about 1 foot tall, as far as I could tell. It was obvious that I was going to have to turn the Summit around by hand. I took a quick look back at the boys, but they never really saw me crest the top of this hill, and by now they were heading up the hill themselves, only they were following the well beaten trail. I went around the front of the machine to grab the front bumper, but found that one ski was on the wrong side of a small tree. I used my foot to push the tree aside, but I sunk in the snow about a foot or so. Then it was about 2 feet, and now the other leg was in the same hole. What I had done was walk over the tip top of a tree, and i figure that it was probably about 10 feet high. In case you haven't picked up on this already, I was standing directly over a tree, and they do not pack up with snow, instead they are a mix of snow, tree and air. Air doesn't support you very well. By now, I was in to my hips, and still sinking. I started to panic when my chest was level with the ground. I was kicking my feet around, trying to find some support, but I was only opening the hole bigger so that I could get my body in it. At about the same time as my neck was getting below the height of the bottom of the ski, I realized that I was in big trouble, and if I played my cards right, I just might be able to make the newspaper headlines. I could here the others talkin off in the distance a bit, and tried to yell to them, but they couldn't hear a thing. The best part was when they started their machines and began to drive away, that was really good. The only thing that saved me was the ski of the summit, it was right there at the top of the hole.
Somehow, I managed to do a chin up from my burrow and wiggled myself out. It is amazing how strong and atheletic you can be when you are facing certain death. I extracted the summit from behind, using the rear bumper. I'm not sure how long i was in the hole, but it was at least a good 5 minutes. Needless to say, I followed the main trail back to the warm up shelter, which is where I found everyone. They were talking to some new people, and wondered where I was. Thanks for the concern. Of course, when I told the story, the hole was 35 - 50 feet deep, and it was sucking me in like quicksand. All the same, I learned another lesson here, that it is dangerous to ride alone, any thing can happen (wait a minute, I already knew that!).
The next day, I showed them the hole and Brad insisted that I get back in so he could take a picture. The craziest part of this whole story is that I jumped right back in without a moments hesitation!
Anything fo a Kodak moment!
Monday morning looked just like Sunday morning, cloudy. The difference was that the clouds seemed to be socked in a little bit thicker, which meant we weren't going to get blue skies today. As usual, we stopped for breakfeast at the Scotch Creek Family Restaurant. This is our favourite place to eat breakfeast , but I have been told that everything on the menu is good.
James is overlooking the Shuswap Lake
On the way up to the alpine, the sun poked through the clouds every now and then. It appeared that we were going to get a bit of a mix today. We decided to do a little riding over at Grizzly mountain, we never made it that far yesterday. The weather over there was more or less the same, but we kept an eye on the clouds, because there is no marked trail over there, and if it were to become clouded in, none of us really knew the mountain well enough to drive home blindfolded.
RDJ taking a jump
There is a hill on Grizzly that I like to jump down. It has a nice rounded transitiion at the top, and you need to carry some speed to clear it, but the snow is really deep on the face, so the landings are ok. All you need is some nerve to go off it at 50+ miles an hour. Brad and I were the only ones willing to jump it that day, the rest just watched, so I asked one of them to take some pictures of the both of us going over at the same time. I mentioned this to Brad, and he agreed. Unfortunately, I never took a close look at what Brad was doing when he came off the top, I was too busy with my own riding. I didn't realize that he wasn't really jumping off, more like riding down hill fast. He did not mention this fact to me, I guess he figured that he would gauge his speed by me, and he would sail through the air while the picture was being taken. Well, the photographer was ready, I was ready, and Brookes signaled to me that he was ready, so we began our approach. We were about 15 feet apart, side by each, and when we hit the apex, I really gave her the gas, and shot out quite a ways. I made my landing, regained control, and looked over at Brad to see how he had done. He wasn't beside me any more. As a matter of fact, he was about 30 or 40 feet further up the hill, doing end over end sumersaults in unison with his machine. He wasn't on it or anything like that, they were just flipping end over end at the same time. Seems that he didn't understand the laws of physics, and how they apply to a vehicle taking a jump. When he got to the lip of the jump, he let go of the throttle just before he crested it. The machine took to the air, did a horrible nose dive into the face of the hill, and pitched him off of the machine and onto the cowling, with his head dangling loosely near the right ski. He paused momentarily in this position, then began his sequence of flips, with the 'doo following suit. They tell me that he was completely under the inverted machine at one point, but luckily the depth of the snow prevented him from any serious injury. He just got pushed into the snow and stopped, while the machine did one last flip, before landing on its track. He got up, stumbled a bit, gave the "I'm OK wave", and then everybody cheered and started yelling "10". You know, this guy races motocross with me, and he still doesn't understand that when you go off a jump, you must apply some throttle as you go off, so the machine will fly at the right attitude. I think he understands now. One thing is for sure, we won't be topping this one today.
Me again
We headed back over to Crowfoot Mountain and spent the rest of the day riding in the playpens and meadows. Sure enough, nobody outdid Brookes that day. As a mater of fact, it wouldn't be until a year later that this feat was out done, and it was the same guy who did it. But that is another story. The cloud cover started to get a little thicker, so we decided to head down. I couldn't help but notice that the Hildebrandts were a little played out, especially James. He was having serious trouble throwing his leg over the seat when he climbed onto the machine. He had to grab some loose material on the leg of his snowsuit and lift his leg that ways. That evening, we stopped for dinner in at the Crowfoot Inn in Celista. Celista is the small town immediately at the base of Crowfoot mountain, right on the shore of the Shuswap Lake. Evidently, our host and hostess had both spent some time in Fort McMurray. The guy who ran it was a snowmobiler himself, we couldn't help notice his Powder Special stuffed into the back of his pickup truck out front. They talked with us for a while and then he bought us a round of drinks after we were done eating, and not one of us was even driving a Cat. Snowmobile people really know how to take care of their own. If you are looking for something to eat after coming off the mountain, you know that you will be welcome at the Crowfoot Inn.
Johnny Hall jumping his Ultra. Same jump as the one I'm on above, but taken from a different angle.
The next morning found even more cloud, and a new riding companion. Hickey arrived late the night before, and he was ready to go first thing in the morning. It seemed that the cloud was getting thicker each and every day, and this day was no exception. As a matter of fact, it was socked in most of the time up in the alpine. We would usually stop and shoot the breeze when the visibility got down to nothing, and when it cleared a little we would ride again. Although we got some pretty good riding in that day, most of it was spent talking. When it looked like it was getting really thick, we would go back to the cabin and put on a big fire. Due to the poor visibility, we decided to stay away from Grizzly Mountain so we just played around near the cabin, never venturing more than a mile or so. What with all the time spent in the cabin, John and Hickey got a few beer in them. In addition, John has eye problems. He has complicated vision problems in one of his eyes, and can't see out of the other one. This was going to make for an interesting ride down the hill back to our trucks. The Hildebrants left the mountain early that day, so there was only 5 of us on the way down. Nancy was leading, and she was on the gas. Next was Johnny, Hickey, Brad and myself. Everything was going alright until we got on a long, wide, straight section of the trail with several bumps on it (have you ever seen a trail up a mountain without a lot of bumps on it?). Hickey decided to put the big move on John and gassed it, but as he was about to pass him, he got bucked off the damn machine. As Johnny glanced over, he saw Hickeys' XLT go by with nobody on it, and then Hickey PASSED John, taking huge 7 foot strides with his arms flailing, until he collapsed and resorted to barrel rolling, so now both his arms and legs were flailing. I didn't really see exactly what happened, but I saw enough to get a sense of the sequence of events. Hickey jumped up as quick as he could and remounted his Polaris, trying to act as nonchalent as he could, given the circumstances. John, on the other hand, had managed to stop his Ultra, and was laughing, completely out of control. Brad and I pulled up and surveyed the scene, and it was at this instant we realized that both of these guys were loaded. We all had a good laugh, and after John told the story over and over to each one of us, we started off again. Nancy was long gone, which was fine with John, because she missed the whole scene, and he now had someone else he could tell the story to. Everything was fine for about 1/2 a mile or so, and then all of a sudden, we lost john off the side of the trail. He was on a long straightaway, in some loose powder, and got sucked off the trail into a ditch, where the machine made a quick stop and he was ejected over the windsheild. Luckily he wasn't going very fast and the snow was kind of deep. Again, we all had a laugh, and then had to drag that Ultra out of the ditch for him. Brad and I were having our own little laugh at these two guys. They weren't slobbering drunk, but combine 4 or 5 beers with the ride home at the end of a long day, and it would be safe to say that they weren't razor sharp. Hell, I was tired myself. Once we got up and going again, Brad took the lead and got a little bit ahead. I stayed behind, because I had a feeling that we hadn't seen everything yet.
"Johnny, what happened?" asks Brad. "The trail is at least 30 feet wide".
Sure enough, Johnny went in again. This time, it was after a 90 degree left turn, with a ditch running parralel to the trail. The turn was really wide, but John went wider, over the little berm, and into the chasm. I saw Brad in the distance, unaware of the latest goon show, continuing on down the trail. I think he wasn't looking back on purpose, and we could have used him because this one was stuck good. The ditch was about 5 feet deep with straight vertical sides, 100 feet long, and full of powder. We had to muscle this thing up and out with only three of us, and to top it off, Hickey and Johnny got into an arguement about how to get it out. It was really quite simple, all we had to do was sweat like pigs and strain our back muscles, and it would eventually come out. After about 15 - 20 minutes. Thankfully, this was the last one of the day. After a good soak in the hot tub, we had a quick dinner and hit the hay. Brad and I stayed up for a while talking and having a laugh at the boys.
Dorf goes snowmobiling.
Wednesday morning everyone was full of piss and vinegar again. We had the ceremonial big scoff at the Family Restaurant in Scotch Creek, and then we were off. There was more cloud cover again today, but we still managed to get a lot of riding in, mostly playing in some bowls. We hadn't seen another sled for a couple of days now, so we had the mountain to ourselves. The Hildebrandts were pretty quiet the last few days, not much talking and even less riding. They weren't very happy with the weather conditions, so they headed back to the hotel around noon. It was too bad, because we actually got some sunlight for a short period of time. This allowed us to play around in some small hills with big cornices. Late in the day, the wind started to whip up a bit, so we called it a day and started to head down. I was leading everyone down a trail that was not our usual one, but it was in the trees and shelter from the wind. We came upon a fork that I thought was familar, but you know what thought did. A couple of miles down the trail, I realized we were in uncharted waters, but everyone felt we should continue on, it would eventually lead us to where we wanted to go. We were definitely going down, but the problem was that we were going down on the wrong side of a ridge, into another valley. It was indeed a traveled trail, but we didn't know where it would take us, and it was now officially dark. We argued over it for a while, went a little further, argued some more, until eventually we had gone past the point of no return - we were almost out of gas! A couple of us were riding on empty, going back up the mountain was no longer an option. The trail began to deteriorate, we had to cross through rock filled streams with our machines, lift dead trees off the trail, always going down. We eventually got onto some dirt road, however the snow cover was almost non existent at this elevation. When everyone stopped for a smoke break, I continued on, curious to find out if we were still in Canada. I was traveling along the road, with just enough ice on the side to keep my skis out of the dirt. I wasn't going very fast, which was a good thing, because all of a sudden I came upon a truck parked on the side of the road, loaded with logs. As I pulled up, I could see a guy loading more logs onto the truck. I asked him where were, and he told me that I was about 20 miles form where my truck was parked. Twenty miles was too far, I didn't have enough gas, but that was of no consequence because once we hit the main road, there was no more snow. The fellow was good enough to offer me a ride to my truck, so I offered to help him finish loading his truck. We were down to the last two logs when the rest of the expedition came riding up. Nancy and I got in the cab with him, and Hickey sat on the logs, because he is insane. Brad and John stayed with the machines while we went to pick up our trucks. By the time I got back to the hotel, it was 8:00 PM. Everyone else stopped off for dinner, but I just went straight back to the hotel. I was in my bed when Brad got back to the room.
James H., Nancy, and Hickey
Thursday morning brought more fog and cloud. We went up the hill, because you never know what the weather will be like up top. It was worse. We spent most of the day in the chalet, and everytime it looked like the cloud might start lifting, we would run out and play around a bit, until common sense told us to go back again. At one point, we were playing in a meadow very close to the chalet, when suddenly we were socked in real heavy. It was so bad, we completely lost our orientation, and we were amongst trees. We all got together and just sat around on the machines, talking and arguing over where the trail was. You have to experience these conditions to understand what it is like. Jeff started to get a little bit irratated, saying we should go home, this was crazy. It probably was crazy, but nobody wanted to go home, so his advice fell on deaf ears. After a while we started wondering just how we were going to get home, we couldn't see past our ski tips, in fact we couldn't tell if we were in powder or following a set of tracks, thats how bad it was! All of a sudden we heard a piped up sled pass us nearby on the trail. These guys were following the trail markers, which are merely red sticks with reflective tape on the tops, placed about every 100 feet. We knew that once we found the markers, getting back to the chalet would be no problem. The spacing is just the right distance, as you pass a marker, your headlight illuminates the reflective tape on the next marker. If the tape wasn't there, you would most certainly veer off the trail. Bear in mind, this trail was through a meadow, with random patches of trees here and there. It turned out that we were less than 1 mile from the chalet. Eventually, we went down the mountain a bit, and played down below on some of the smaller hills. We still managed to get stuck anyways.
Uh-oh. Its Polaris people, and they're stuck! Nancy, John and Hickey
I don't think James is enjoying himself on this trip. His face says it all.
Later that night, we decided to go for dinner at the Silver Fox Bistro in Chase. We have eaten there before, and sometimes they have specials for the evening. Two years earlier, we went in and the special for the night was Moo Bones. We asked the waitress what Moo Bones were, and she told us that they were great big beef ribs for $1 each. We tried them, and we still talk about them, so I guess we liked them. The problem with this place is that you can never count on the kitchen being open, and they don't always have Moo Bones, however we thought we would give it a shot. As we pulled up to the place, we were encouraged by the cars in the parking lot, the place was packed. Once inside, we realized that we couldn't all sit together. There were 2 tables, but they weren't close to each other, so Brad, the Hilderbrandts and myself sat in the corner, while John, Nancy and Hickey sat at the other table. No sooner had I sat down, and my nose picked up the unmistakeable scent of tallow coming from the kitchen/fry basket - could it be? Yes! There were Moo Bones!
Now let me start by saying that Brookes and I have a bit of a history when it comes to the feast after a day of outdoor activity, but we were not prepared for the Roman orgy the Hildebrandts were about to put on. Brad and I each ordered a plate of 10 Moo Bones, which is more than a lesser man could probably eat. In addition to that, I ordered a tossed salad, and I believe Brad ordered about 10 shrimp, which were also on special, along with 25¢ chicken wings. Then the marines landed. James ordered 10 Moo Bones, 15 shrimp, 15 chicken wings, and then he ordered Beef Dip off the menu, along with a Caesar salad (large, of course). Jeff's order was similar, but I don't quite remember the details.
"Ah, you guys are wasting your money", I said. "You'll have trouble getting past the moo bones."
"Just watch me", James said.
Brookes and I watched in total disbelief, and yes, even horror, as these two human garbage disposals inhaled their repast. Each Moo Bone was sucked clean of every bit of meat, fat and grissel. A couple of times it looked as though James was going to go after the marrow, but he eventually gave up, and went on to the next morsel. Just as we thought the frenzy was over, they both ordered an additional 10 moo bones each. At this point Brad and I were getting caught up in the spirit of things, and we found ourselves cheering them on. Suddenly, our joy turned to wide eyed fear as the waitress returned with two plates of moo bones, one with 10 and the other with only three.
"We ran out, there were only 13 left!" she announced. This could turn ugly real quick. I glanced at Brad and couldn't help but notice a bead of perspiration running down the side of his forehead. We were more or less trapped in the corner, and if Godzilla and Megalon decided to fight over the last greasy bone, we would probably end up seriously injured, perhaps even bitten!
"I ordered first, I get the 10" James quickly announced.
"That's not fair" whined Jeff.
"Too bad", replied James. "Snooze ya loose". And as easy as that, the clash of the Titans was over. We breathed a collective sigh of relief.
As James was sucking the grease off of his fingers, he looked over at us and smiled. "Rookers".
He was right too. Brad and I both realized that we were in the presence of greatness, and we had just witnessed an event that would not be soon forgotten. I couldn't help but think of their poor mother, ...........
Friday morning was cloudy again, but today looked worse than the others. Jeff and James left for home this morning, why stay around, the annual allotment of moo bones for the region was wiped out last night. To be honest, they were a little bit played out, and I don't think any amount of moo bones would be enough to coax them up the mountain again. This was to be their last mountain trip.
We went through the daily ritual of gassing up and unloading the machines, but none of us were too optomistic. It was kind of foggy down in the parking lot area, and we were pretty sure that it was going to get worse as we climbed. Sure enough, the top was unrideable. We did try to play around in the meadows, but the visibility was nil. We headed back down before noon, and decided to head as far north as was practical, McBride.
I've gotta be honest here, I don't really know what he is doing! Everybody else was landing a big jump, but Brookes has his own ideas.
We arrived in McBride before dark, only to find out that there was a hockey tournament in town and everything was booked up. We drove all over town and eventually got rooms for one night only at the North Country Lodge. We were told that if they received cancellations the next day, we would be able to stay, but if not, Hasta La Vista!
We woke up Saturday morning to more cloud! We got moving around 10:00 am, but some other guys with snowmobiles were pulling into the motel with a couple of cases of beer and headed for their rooms. They said that they went up to the parking area and it was completely socked in. They turned around, hit the liquor store, and were about to get drunk. At this point, Brad said he had enough, lets go home. I was in agreement, we would only be leaving one day early, and there was nothing else to do here. As a matter of fact, we probably didn't even have a room to sit in. Hickey, John & Nancy were leaving too, but they wanted to stop off in Whitecourt, Alberta. No mountain riding there, but a pretty good trail system.
Brad and I pulled in to McMurray around 11:00 that night. On the drive, I was discussing plans for a trip to Sparwood, BC next month!
Allright, I've had enough of this SHIT! Lets go home!
