On Tuesday I joined a BCMC group for something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time: the Mount Seymour dawn patrol.
6.30am found us in the freezing dark in the Seymour parking lot. With a chill wind whipping down from the mountain above us, it felt considerably colder than the Coquihalla on Sunday. I geared up as fast as possible, put my heaviest downhill mitts on my frozen hands, and crunched over to the dim whiteness of the icy trail.
We began the climb by starlight, the lights of the city glittering below, and just a hint of blue around the edges of the sky. As we headed upwards light gradually filtered into the landscape around us, and a thin band of gold formed on the far horizon. By the time we topped out on Brockton Point, the sun was just starting to rise above the eastern mountains and alpenglow lit up the peaks to the west. We pointed our skis downhill and tore down the untouched corduroy, hollering all the way. I realised afterwards that it was the first time I’d skied a groomer since mid-December.
Throwing my gear in the car, driving downtown and starting the workday felt completely surreal, and yet somehow that was almost the best part of it: starting an ordinary day in such an extraordinary way.