Indice dei contenuti per Dec 25/Jan 26 - Vol.54 #3 in Ski Canada

When we think of museums, we think of the Louvre, the Smithsonian and the ROM, where the world’s cultural treasures are displayed for all to see. Similarly, halls of fame commemorate the deeds of both heroes and villains, enshrining them in brass statues and bronze plaques in Cooperstown (baseball), Cleveland (rock and roll) and on Hollywood’s star-studded Walk of Fame. It might come as a surprise to skiers to learn that the Canadian Ski Hall of Fame and Museum (CSHFM) has been around for 50 years—well, kind of. Like many sports history organizations, the Hall of Fame and the Museum function differently. The Hall recognizes both athletic and business achievements, while the Museum’s broader goal is to preserve artifacts of historical significance. The Museum forfeited its physical space on Scott…

When I told the Korean Air flight attendant that our ultimate destination was the secret little island of Ulleung, a look of wonder crossed her face. “Oooo! A lot of snow. You like adventure!?” she both asked and stated. My wife Ray and I were pleased with her reaction…until she continued with a more serious look. “You will need this for the ferry ride. Very hard,” she said, pointing at an air sickness bag and motioning with her hand and mouth in an animated vomiting action. About 120km east of the Korean peninsula is an extinct conical volcano that abruptly rises almost 1,000m above the East Sea. The island formed around it, Ulleungdo (or Ulleung Island, given “do” means “island” in Korean) is one of those “journey’s end” places that…

WHO KNEW THE SILVER STATE WAS A PLACE FOR SKIERS? Last March, I met Nevada. Not the Nevada I thought I knew. Not the Nevada with the neon lights, the motel for clowns, the abandoned city beneath Lake Mead, the extraterrestrial highway—although meeting that Nevada would be interesting. I did not meet the Nevada that shines so brightly that astronauts can see it from the International Space Station. Nor the one where riding a camel on a state highway is against the law. Or where it’s illegal to sell dentures in pawn shops. No, no, no, not that Nevada—that Nevada is for gamblers and tourists, and jokers on the lookout for used dentures in pawn shops. The Nevada I met is different. The Nevada I met has more named mountain…

STILL SEXY AFTER 60? Turning the big 6-0 in 2026, Whistler Mountain is throwing a season-long party. Don’t expect a reprise of the go-go dancers at Tommy Africa’s or the 1973 nudists of Toad Hall—the mountain is 60, after all. Do expect memory-packed, do-it-yourself tours along Whistler’s new Wonder Routes, a curated collection of mapped trails leading skiers from one storied Whistler spot to the next, including the Gold Medal Route and the Glade Stashes Checklist. The sexiest we’ve found so far: the Après Route, leading your merry band from onhill huts to village après bars. Recommended ability: all levels! Time to complete: only two to three hours—you’ll be home by seven. whistlerblackcomb.com _LORI KNOWLES SKIING'S FIRST SKI SUBSCRIPTION WANTS YOU AS A FRIEND RenounPro may be one of skiing’s…

You may remember 2010 for the record snowfalls in the East, or for it being the year Alexandre Bilodeau won Olympic gold on home soil with a near perfect run in men’s moguls. Both were pretty awesome. Add to that the release of Neil Pasricha’s The Book of Awesome. A compendium that should be in every ski chalet, it’s an ode to small joys, like licking cake batter off mixer beaters, popping bubble wrap, smelling bakery air. You get the idea. Pasricha has a wide criteria: “Awesome things might be simple, free, universal, silly, joyous, poignant, or even bittersweet.” You know what has lots of that kind of awesome? Skiing. And so, if skiing had a book of awesome it might go something like this. SHOT SKIS Cancelled briefly during…

I had no idea Bart Wright had skied competitively in high school when I met him stepping out of his VW bus in front of my Berkeley apartment back in 1974. Nor was I aware that Harold Tobin was an avid skier when we’d met the year before at a concert in Connecticut. Or that Stephan Quentzel loved bashing moguls, and that his brother, John, was a ski instructor at Jay Peak. Our mutual love of skiing rarely entered our conversations as we formed a loose group that collectively racked up about 700 Grateful Dead shows over the years. When you spend every waking hour driftin’ and dreamin’ while dancing at, driving to, or discussing past and future concerts, all other topics—even skiing—lurk in the shadow of the moon. The…

The sun is beginning to set behind Quebec’s hardwood hills. It’s magic hour—that picture-perfect moment when the golden sky calls skiers home for an après ski beer. But, for many Quebecers, après ski means… well…more skiing. Above a silhouette of increasingly black peaks, the stars just starting to enliven the sky become overpowered by the earthly floodlights illuminating Bromont’s famously groomed ski runs. The voices of kids yelling to each other start to see competition from the sound of shearing skis as a thin crust begins to form on the snow. The lack of sun, the colder temps, both seem to be strange things for skiers to seek out. But night skiing in Quebec attracts its own devoted crowd. There is a different vibe to night skiing. And there’s no…

The moguls under the Knob Quad are just right. The Easter weekend sun has warmed the snow to a consistent corn that holds an edge with little effort. The double fall line slope provides playful potential. And the low, well-spaced bumps are more launch pads than obstacles. It gets better. I’m chasing my adult daughter down the pitch, the two of us laughing and hooting. We are sharing a run for the first time all season—with no one else in sight and no lift lines. And then there’s the location: near the summit of Marmot Basin ski area, I’m surrounded by a toothy skyline of Rocky Mountain peaks. From up here, everything feels perfect. But just out of sight is a completely different scene. In July and August of 2024,…

Parked on the tarmac at Toronto’s Pearson Airport, everything seems perfectly normal. Tray table stowed? Check. Seatbelt securely fastened? Roger that. Knees nearly touching chin? Natch. That’s when things get abnormal in a hurry. Shortly after the mysteriously in-the-know stranger next to me reports, “trouble on the runway,” passengers are instructed to exit the Denver-bound aircraft. Trouble on the runway, it turns out, is the Feb. 17 crash of Delta Flight 4819. The plane’s landing gear collapsed during a hard landing, sending the plane into a spin and roll that left it wingless and upside down on a Pearson runway. Once the situation becomes clear, the cancellation of our flight and the apparent demise of our father-daughter ski trip to Colorado suddenly seem trivial. Incredibly, the crash results in zero…