Mar. 11, 2009 - Issue #699: Witch
Castle Mountain: Sometimes you have to work for a dump
... but Castle's steep fall lines will get you going
After driving five and a half hours south from Edmonton, we pull into the little village at the base of Gravenstafel Mountain, the larger of two comprising the resort. Before we’re even out of the car I see the sticker—sporting a stick figure on a toilet—on the side of a Jeep.
I, too, appreciate a good dump. But this winter has been a little lacking in the dump department. Not one month ago, stiff yellow grass bent in the wind alongside dry highways. Small mounds of grey-black snow moulded into minor ice heaps by wind and warm air were the only evidence of Mother Nature’s feeble attempt at winter. The month of February had Mr Groundhog chilling in flip-flops, sipping a margarita.
At one time, only 60 000 skiers per year rose to Gravenstafel’s challenge. Featuring intense and technical fall lines, it attracted a mostly expert crowd. By nature, experts are relatively few and a mountain featuring almost all black or double black runs is guaranteed to scare away the once-per-season warriors.
To remedy this, Castle opened the bottom of Mt Haig three seasons ago. It has since attracted an additional 20 000. I wasn’t interested in Mt Haig on my way here, but sometimes conditions will change my mind.
Gentle cruisers abound. The blue and green runs are textbook perfect intermediate terrain, bordered by thick trees saving the runs from icy hell created by chinook winds that sometimes plague the southern resort. My partner Jay and I have a blast cruising down quiet groomers on a Monday afternoon.
Castle is the only Alberta resort where it’s possible to own private ski-in/ski-out property. Huckleberry Chair rises from a base village clustered with homes that have been there since the late ‘60s. Now the resort is expanding—maybe a good time to buy, I think. No one’s around, there’s a recession ... I could work in Crowsnest Pass or Pincher Creek. The chutes on the backside of Gravenstafel could make any die-hard line-driver monogamous, while the frugal skier will definitely get some quality vertical for a good price.
Ski Canada recently calculated Castle as having the fifth best vertical drop for your dollar. For every dollar you spend, you get 18 metres. The resort’s 863-metre vert will cost you a measly $48. Despite not being noted in Ski Canada’s alphabetical listing of the top 10 best powder resorts—the magazine also forgot Powder King in northern BC—Castle was regarded as the best unspoiled natural freeride terrain, with less than one person per skiable acre.
We finish the day sweaty and thirsty. Conditions might not be the powdery heaven they were last year, but they’re perfect for drinking. The T-bar Pub, conveniently located between the two mountain bases, is a classic. Retired skis, snowboards, boots and terrain signs from West Castle, Castle Mountain’s predecessor, complete the décor. Several pints and a scrumptious thin-crust pizza later, something strange begins to happen.
“Don’t walk out wearing your ski boots, you’ll mess up the base!” yells a local as his buddy steps outside. Jay and I have obviously come at the right time. It’s snowing, something Castle, along with the majority of resorts further south, have been a little thirsty for this year. We down another beer because bed is only a short stumble to the lodge—another rarity for an Alberta resort.
The new hostel-lodge is quiet (castlerental.ca). Perhaps it’s the snow blanketing the roof offering some sound insulation, but more likely it’s because we’re the only ones here. It’s quaint—you have to take your shoes off when you come in the door—with only 10 hotel rooms occupying the second floor, and the other floors are hostel rooming. We get our own bathroom and satellite TV upstairs, but beer makes me sleepy and I’m dreaming of powder face washes before South Park’s theme is over.
As the sun rises, wind howls through the deserted parking lot, a few centimetres of snow swirling about. No people and a little snow could be the makings of a good day.
But something is going drastically wrong. A very important feature on Castle’s property is not moving: the Sundance chair. Unless I want to hook a hard plastic T under my crotch for a mile up the mountain, I won’t be riding Gravenstafel today.
“We usually have 14 wind-affected days per season, where the chair is stopped for a short time or longer,” explains Andrew Rusynyk, Castle’s Marketing Director.
It’s more than “affected” today, I note. “Think it will open?” My toes are crossed.
“Not unless the winds slow to less than 70,” he shrugs. “People want the roller coaster excitement to be on the way down, not up.”
If you like roller coasters, particularly the gleeful drop after a slow climb ripe with anticipation, Castle is the perfect place to introduce your stomach to your throat: it’s home to Canada’s best fall line skiing.
A little run known as Lonestar drops 516 continuous metres down Gravenstafel’s backside at a sensuous 37-degree angle. Lonestar is the longest officially uninterrupted line in our nation.
Murphy’s Law and Minus 1, further into the valley between Gravenstafel and Mount Haig, are slightly shorter but they make up for lost length with steeper degrees. This is no beginner hill.
The chutes, while affected by total snowfall, aren’t affected by windy days. As long as you’re cool with the T-bar, that wind will actually fill in the lines you made on your last run, giving you fresh tracks all the wind-swept day.
Opting not to be dragged nearly 2000 metres uphill, I tromp over to the Huckleberry chair on Mt Haig. There’s a lot to be said for Gravenstafel’s right-hand man. I wouldn’t be riding anywhere today if this area wasn’t here. Or, I’d have to suffer through the cursed T-bar. “It’s not so bad,” frowns Andrew. “That was previously the only way to the top.”
Were the snow more impressive or the T-bar a bit shorter, hell, even if I was a skier, I would have no problem gritting my teeth as the archaic mode of mountain transport dragged me up the hill. But today, as my upper thighs shiver at the length of that invasive thought, I stick to Mt Haig.
The skiff of snow and lack of human presence makes for another day of fun riding. Jay and I stick to Sidewinder and Outrider, bordered by Haig Glades and the ski area boundary. Beyond that boundary is a world of untracked backcountry, some of which was featured in a recent Warren Miller presentation.
Mt Haig’s East Face was conquered in 2006 for the first time by local skier Peter Hodgson. His 12 minutes of fame ran on film in tandem with Miller’s “Off the Grid” at select showings.
My chance of hiking to and mastering this avalanche-happy run are hilariously unlikely—but there’s something to be said for dreaming beneath Gravenstafel’s jagged shadow. There are nearly 1500 hectares of territory to explore at Castle, and I only managed to venture through a few hundred. That’s as good a reason as any to head back. After all, that’s probably how Hodgson was first inspired. V
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