I can laugh about it now....
I call back later that day, and the guy tells me "yeah, that's no problem". Great - we've got a ride in. We arrange a time and place: 9am BC time, or 10am Alberta time, at the CMH helipad. "That'd be perfect" he says. I then call Matt's home phone and leave a message on his voice mail, to be retrieved by him and Greg when they ski back out to civilization from a trip around the Duffy Lakes area in BC.
Michelle making some tracks
The next morning, after an all night drive, Mike and I are trying to locate Greg and Matt. They're not at the trailhead (turns out they were, we just never found it), they're not at the helipad. Finally, approaching 9am (BC time), we give up, and head to helipad. We knock at the lodge. A nice guy answers and says the snowmobile guy is in town right now, but should be back any minute. We say that's alright, we're not quite ready yet, and we'll come by when we're ready. He tells us where to park, and we go there and begin to pack up. It's about 8:45.
At 9am sharp, the guy on the snowmobile pulls up, engine revving, waiting for us. We are not yet finished packing. We try to make small talk. "Uh, we're not quite ready just yet - hope you don't mind waiting a few minutes. Our friends aren't here yet either"
"I don't mind waiting a few minutes." This man is surly. He keeps the engine running. Mike and I are packing furiously. We engage in more delicate small talk. The man asks "So how do you know Danny?", as if to imply he's doing a friend's favour by towing us in. We surmise that Danny was the nice guy in the lodge, and the one I talked to on the phone. We reply that we don't, we just called and asked about a ride, and he said it would be no problem at all. Surly Snowmobile Guy says "You, know, we don't normally do this. This is the last time." Huh? Mike and I look at each other confused. This is also the first time. Now we feel like we're doing something wrong.
Skiing in the meadows above the cabin. Can't tell who this is.
More furious packing. I'm going to forget something. All of a sudden Surly Snowmobile Guy grunts something and drives off. Huh? I ask Mike what he said. "It sounded like 'I'll be back in 15 minutes'". Why is this guy mad?? He's going to get paid. Mike and I continue packing. A short time later, we walk over to the lodge with our gear. Surly Snowmobile Guy comes out and shows us how to tie in to the towline, and we're on our way. We don't know what to tell the guy about Greg and Matt - he seems very unwilling to tow us in in the first place, so we don't want to push the subject. Now I'm worrying, how are Greg and Matt going to get up to the cabin? What can we do?
The ride is speedy, but we get used to it quickly. Surly Snowmobile Guy stops on the way, and asks us how we're doing. Ok. Our unspoken thoughts ask: Is he giving us a rest? Does he want a rest? Why is he stopping? He takes a swig of water. The silence is awkward. It is difficult to make small talk with Surly Snowmobile Guy. We should be going now, but we're just standing here. Finally, we're on our way again. This happens 2 or 3 times. Always awkward silence, and stopping for no apparent reason. We do not wish to anger Surly Snowmobile Guy, so we don't ask too many questions. We finally reach our destination, the summer trailhead. We pay Surly Snowmobile Guy $15 each, and he drives off, continuing further up the valley.
Just after this, 3 people (Mike, Rick and someone who's name I forget) from Darek & Matt's group, already at the hut, arrive at the trailhead, just having skied down from the hut. Darek's sled was stashed at the trailhead, but they were going to have to leave it there for Darek, and ski out the 12km. But no more - now I can act as snowmobile driver. My sleep-deprived mind (along with some confusion about thinking Mike was Darek) has a lot of trouble figuring out what they want me to do, but finally I understand - I am to drive the snowmobile, tow them back to the trailhead, and return with the sled. Ah, this will be fun. Plus, it is a great opportunity to try to intercept Greg and Matt, hopefully skiing in, and tow them to the trailhead. Everything is working out perfectly.
Gettin' some powpow.
Mike L. will continue up the 3000ft to the hut alone, and says he'll wait for me at the first trail junction. I dump my pack at the summer trailhead, grab some water and food, mount the stead, and tow our friends out. My first time driving a snowmobile, so I don't top 40km/h. I get the hang of it soon enough though. As I sled to within view of the (winter) trailhead, some 12km back towards the highway, there is a bright yellow beacon of jacket - Matt. We stop, everyone gets untied, and Matt explains what was going on. He and Greg had slept at the trailhead, and never saw Mike and I. Matt's voice mail was having problems, so he never retrieved the message I had left to meet at the helipad. He says Greg was currently in town, trying to get the messages again. In the meantime, they have hooked up with some chain-drinking snowboarder/snowmobilers, very coincidentally named Matt and Craig, who were going to take them in towards the hut. Matt and Craig perpetually have a can of Molson Canadian in their hand.
Greg returns from town, telling us what we already knew.
The guys from Darek's group pack up, and re-fill the sled's tank for me. I talk to Matt and Craig about where we are going, and specifically mention the large "West Ridge" sign at the trailhead, next to the "no snowmobiling sign", and that my pack is there. Matt/Craig say yeah, we'll definitely stop there and wait for each other. Matt mentions something about wanting to shoot some holes into the stupid "no snowmobiling" sign.
Matt/Greg pack up and put their stuff and themselves on Matt/Craig's snowmobiles. There isn't quite enough room, so I take Matt Cary's pack and skis on mine. We all explain to Matt/Craig that I am not too proficient at driving a sled, so I won't be going too fast. "No problem, eh. One of us will stay behind you." That was to last for about 100 yards.
We get going - as we leave the parking lot, I notice a Molson Canadian beer can sitting on the bumper of Greg's truck. Matt/Craig probably forgot about it, and opened another can. I also notice we are headed off in a different direction from where I had come from. This arouses my suspicion, but the network of logging roads in the valley bottom is confusing, and there could definitely be a shortcut, as they said. Plus, Darek's group mentioned something about Darek taking a different route into the summer trailhead the first time.
Off we go. After 100 yards, both Matt and Craig had driving in front of me, and sped off into the distance, out of sight, with Matt and Greg on the backs of their sleds. I am left in the dust. The kilometers go by. 1km, 2km, 3km. Hmm. The road doesn't look like it could connect to the valley bottom access road that led to the trailhead. I am gaining elevation, and heading up the opposite side of the ridge. Matt's pack, in the back of my sled, is now leaning way out, and becoming less and less attached to the sled. One of his skis falls off. I stop, and try for 5 minutes to figure out a system, but rushing, not wanting Matt/Craig to travel any further up the wrong way. I am rushing, panicking, so I can't get anything done right. I continue. 4km, 5km, 6km. Definitely the wrong way. Far, far from where the summer trailhead was, where my pack was. Where are those fuckers? Skis fall off again. I get out to straighten the pack, and try a different attachment system. I'm getting very very pissed off. After a few minutes, I continue. Finally, Craig (who is like Matt's stupid sidekick. Except that Matt is stupid too) appears in the distance. He says he came back to look for me. I explain, quite angrily, that we're no where near where we're supposed to me. I follow him back up to where he says Matt and the others have stopped. A few more kilometers pass by. Finally, I see them all.
I engage in a shouting match. Except it's not really a match, since Matt and Craig are so mellowed out by their beer (they are both drinking yet another can of canadian piss-water as this is going on). I try to explain to them where I intended to go, and that my pack is down there, on the other side of the mountain. "Oh, we didn't know that, eh?". They try to "pat me on the back" and mellow me out, but I am having a hard time dealing with such morons. Matt and Greg are just taking in the show. I ask why they zipped in front of me, when they said one of them would stay behind. "Oh, well, you were going too slow." Uh, wasn't that the point? It is useless to try to reason with these idiots. Matt (of Matt/Craig) tries to convince me that we can still get to the trailhead by going down this other trail he points to, and it's really mellow. I look at it and it's full of branches and steep, and doesn't look too mellow, and I no longer believe anything these guys says, even though they are self-proclaimed local experts. I dump Matt's (of Matt/Greg) pack and skis from my sled, and tell them I'm heading back down to the parking lot, then back to my pack. In a drunken stupour, they try to convince me not to. Matt and Greg continue to enjoy the spectacle, and Greg would later comment how he had never seen me so mad. Just before I head down, Greg gets in a little something, which he has been trying to say for the past few minutes, but there didn't seem a right time. "Phil, uh, I forgot my camera in my truck... could you get it on your way through the parking lot?" he asks, handing me the keys.
Whew! I zip down to the parking lot, now approaching 60km/hr (anger speed - still not fast for normal sledders, but fast enough for Phil). The engine noise is deafening above 50km/hr, and I have no hearing protection. I get Greg's camera as I pass by the parking lot 8km later, and head the 12km back up to the summer trailhead and my pack. I drive the sled into the bushes, turn off the engine, and grab the keys and pullcord. My ears are ringing and I can hardly hear anything!
In a sleep-deprived angry stupour (at this point I've been awake for about 30 hours), I head off up the trail. The peaceful (except for the loud ringing in my ears which lasts all day) trail eventually washes away the tension and I begin to enjoy myself. Two and a half hours later, Mike L. appears from above, coming down from the hut to greet me. It is getting dark. Another half hour or so, and we arrive at the hut. To my dismay, Matt and Craig are hanging out at the hut, drinking and smoking. Did they even snowboard at all? We passed their snowmobiles on a steep slope about 700ft below the hut, so I guess Matt and Greg had a pretty easy ski in! I am not happy to see them, and try to ignore them. My anger however, is erased when Matt Dobbs and Amos come out to greet me.
Greg and Matt step into their canadian suits and paraphrase Craig and Matt