Guest Writer: Madeline
Despite Andrew's generally quite spectacular ability to lure unsuspecting siblings and cousin into ridiculously sketchy and most likely death-threatening situations, he has, to this moment anyway, been very trustworthy and helpful. Luckily, Paul, Nat and I have managed to elude one of his death traps, and are all greatly enjoying having a spectacular local guide showing us the best pow on the hill. Today was, of course, another spectacular day on the mountain. Since we skied Whistler yesterday, we decided to hit Blackcomb and head straight to the highest peak to try and catch some fresh tracks. We were shortly joined by one of Andrew's coworkers, French Paul, who we quickly discovered is quite the character. Upholding the reputation of a traditional Whistler local, French Paul is phenomenal skier and we all, Andrew excluded of course, had quite the time trying to keep up with him. Never satisfied with the average lift-accessible run, we decided to traverse a slope and head to the Pakalolo chute, which according to French Paul is "just steep and deep, steep and deep." Always weary of Andrew trying to coax me into suspect situations, and slightly worried by the words of a man who since the age of one, has been skiing the couloirs of France I was a little worried. Nonetheless, I was extremely excited to have some fresh tracks, and decided to follow the advice of Andrew and French Paul. As we headed to the chute, the conditions were quite windy and the visibility extremely poor. As expected, the mouth of the chute was a huge wind-tunnel, which made standing up quite difficult, but also made for a pretty cool experience. Turns out, all my worry was needless, and as usual, Andrew was right--the powder was fantastic, steeps were great, and the experience exhilarating.
Looking up from the Pakololo chute at Natalie.
Me, standing in Pakololo.
Looking down the entrance to the chute, aka wind tunnel. Nearest to farthest: Natalie, Madeline, French Paul.
Despite Andrew's generally quite spectacular ability to lure unsuspecting siblings and cousin into ridiculously sketchy and most likely death-threatening situations, he has, to this moment anyway, been very trustworthy and helpful. Luckily, Paul, Nat and I have managed to elude one of his death traps, and are all greatly enjoying having a spectacular local guide showing us the best pow on the hill. Today was, of course, another spectacular day on the mountain. Since we skied Whistler yesterday, we decided to hit Blackcomb and head straight to the highest peak to try and catch some fresh tracks. We were shortly joined by one of Andrew's coworkers, French Paul, who we quickly discovered is quite the character. Upholding the reputation of a traditional Whistler local, French Paul is phenomenal skier and we all, Andrew excluded of course, had quite the time trying to keep up with him. Never satisfied with the average lift-accessible run, we decided to traverse a slope and head to the Pakalolo chute, which according to French Paul is "just steep and deep, steep and deep." Always weary of Andrew trying to coax me into suspect situations, and slightly worried by the words of a man who since the age of one, has been skiing the couloirs of France I was a little worried. Nonetheless, I was extremely excited to have some fresh tracks, and decided to follow the advice of Andrew and French Paul. As we headed to the chute, the conditions were quite windy and the visibility extremely poor. As expected, the mouth of the chute was a huge wind-tunnel, which made standing up quite difficult, but also made for a pretty cool experience. Turns out, all my worry was needless, and as usual, Andrew was right--the powder was fantastic, steeps were great, and the experience exhilarating.
Looking up from the Pakololo chute at Natalie.
Me, standing in Pakololo.
Looking down the entrance to the chute, aka wind tunnel. Nearest to farthest: Natalie, Madeline, French Paul.
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