The Coast Mountains’ massive vertical relief have caused a major shift in my previously clean cut experiences of seasonal change.

I used to have one season’s gear active at once: the bike in storage when the skis were tuned, then skis locked away with my bike’s chain greased. However, last week in my adopted home of Whistler, I experienced all of the seasons in a single 48 hour period. I skied powder, then powdery slush, and after a short drive I was flying over warm moist dirt listening to the freewheel ratchet in the wind.

1280X800
1680X1200
2400X1500

I shouldn’t be so surprised to find my Albertan experience of the seasons to be inapplicable elsewhere. After all, cold never leaves entirely, winter simply spends it’s summers down south, as the two identities of mother nature carry out the yearly dance back and forth across the equator.

The vertical relief of the Coast Mountains, like latitude, determine which face of mother nature you see. A conundrum of every coast mountain outdoorsman fights through with when asked ‘What were the conditions like?’

Last summer was the most obvious of years to see these differences in perspectives on seasons. In late august I worked with Sarah Leishman and Katrina Strand in the alpine surrounding Whistler. Months after the lifts last turned for skiers we found snow under our tires traversing leftovers of La Nina’s masterful displays of winter.

1280X800
1680X1200
2400X1500

I’ve been neck deep in snow and work. I’ll stop typing boring words to accompany this.

1280X800
1680X1200
2400X1500

Simply a beautiful moment in Whistler’s backcountry.

I had a landmark moment in my life last week. I got sunburnt earlier in this new year, than in any year before. On March 1st I returned from the hill with squinting eyes and a glowing face. Not much of a burn, just one of those minor ones which morphs into a budding goggle tan by morning, but a burn no less.

Applying aloe vera brought around smells of spring and summer. Of lazy days at alpine lakes, of long warm days and bluebird skies, of… dare I say it? Bikes? But thats still all too far off. There are too many face shots, deep turns, backcountry tours and spring corn days to enjoy before I really switch gears.

We’ve waited too long for winter to get all worked up about summer. Rekindle your impatience, evoke the stoke, there is snow much skiing yet to be had.

1280X800
1680X1200
2400X1500

Austin Ross, on a downright ugly morning in Whistler. A kind of ugly we are all happy to wake up to.

The lands surrounding Whistler BC carries a multitude of overlapping and intertwining stories. Dimensions of heritage, geology, settlement, exploration, conflict, industry, and culture. A list of perspectives as long as the number people who have lived and travled through the region.

A single landmark seems to hold elements of each perspective in it’s striking and dramatic nature. Popularly known now as The Black Tusk, it’s original name as given by the Squamish nation is t’ak’t'ak mu’yin tl’a in7in’a'xe7en which means: ‘Landing Place of the Thunderbird’.

1280X800
1680X1200
2400X1500

The outcropping of rock was formed by a long extinct volcano, a reminder of the length of geographic history which has shaped this landscape over thousands and millions of years. It’s differing names call to mind the diversity of peoples who have inhabited the region, naming the features of this land according to their history and culture. The shape encapsulates a lifestyle to which so many identify; a pursuit of adventure, exploration, personal achievement and conquest. From it’s summit, the horizons tell stories of industry and conservation battling throughout the resource rich forests, mountains, and streams.