The New York Times
http://www.nytimes.com/
January 4, 2009
Bonny Makarewicz for The New York Times
A skier near the Bow Summit in Banff National Park
IT was a familiar scenario: the run was blue, the sky bluer still, and I was cruising down 8,765-foot Mount Whitehorn in Banff National Park in Canada. Packed powder was flying up from the edges of my snowboard into the just-below-freezing air. I was grinning beneath my ski mask.
Then suddenly I wobbled, lost my balance and juddered to a halt.
No, I wasn’t some out-of-control punk boarder, nor had I stumbled upon a group of slow-weaving ski-schoolers. I had simply rounded a corner and smacked into what I would come to call The View — a stretch of snowcapped Canadian Rockies so intricately cragged and utterly enormous that every time I rediscovered them, I had to slow down and gawp at their impassive beauty. Only then, reinvigorated by The View, could I charge to the base and hurry single-mindedly back onto the gondola.
Strangely for such a massively mountainous place, Banff — a catch-all designation for three ski areas and handful of small towns in the park’s 2,564 square miles — is defined by what it is not. It is not Park City, overrun with celebrities, nor Megève, with its Michelin-starred restaurants. Nor is it luxury-minded Aspen, nor status-conscious St. Moritz, nor hard-partying Whistler. There are no trends in Banff — it is not slick. It has never hosted a Winter Olympics (though it was the venue for some events of Calgary’s 1988 Games). Even Banff’s mountains are negatives, formed less by the upthrusting of clashing tectonic plates than by 20 million years of erosion.
Like a Hemingway sentence, what remains after all that paring-down is a thing of remarkable purity. At Banff, one can focus on what really matters: deep snow (30 feet per year in some places) and how to traverse it. Still, before diving into Banff powder, certain matters must first be disposed of — where to sleep, for instance, during those awful hours when one cannot be on a mountain. The town of Banff is the obvious solution. It’s the most developed in the park’s confines, with supermarkets, restaurants, shops and several dozen hotels, from the grand, castlelike Fairmont Banff Springs, built in 1888 and perched above the rushing Bow River, down to the Blue Mountain Lodge, the 10-room bed-and-breakfast that my wife, Jean, and I checked into for a few days last March.
The lodge may have been modest, but it had what we needed: a big bed, a powerful heater, a gear shed and fresh-baked croissants every morning. And while its location, two blocks from downtown, may not have been as dramatic as the Fairmont’s, we had no end of stunning views, for at the end of every little lane, gargantuan hunks of mountain loomed, dwarfing the town’s two- and three-story wood and brick homes.
Our base established, we had only one mild dilemma to resolve: Which of the three ski areas — Mount Norquay, Sunshine Village and Lake Louise — to visit first? Norquay, right outside town, seemed like a natural place to warm up, but when we mentioned the plan to Heather Coolidge, the lodge’s manager, she looked confused.
“Is there some reason you want to go to Norquay?” she asked.
It was a reaction we would encounter often, accompanied by a look that implied we had no idea why we’d come to Banff. Norquay, we knew, was small, but we hadn’t realized it was so small — just five lifts! — that no serious powder hound would consider it unless every other mountain within driving distance were bone-dry. (To be fair, Norquay does host a popular night session on Fridays.)
Instead, we chose Sunshine Village, which in that unseasonably snow-deficient season had had the most recent flurries. About 10 miles west of Banff, Sunshine Village sprawls over three mountains and 3,358 acres of terrain, with more than half of its runs labeled intermediate. Coming from the East Coast, I’m always amazed at how lucky skiers are out west, blessed with perfect locales such as this. No throngs of beginners, no wrathful ice storms. Just excellent, plentiful snow, long runs, fast lifts and eye-popping scenery.
At least I imagined it was eye-popping. That first day, Sunshine was a misnomer — cloudy, with light flakes falling steadily as we rode the chairlifts to the top of 8,954-foot Lookout Mountain. Occasionally, the sun would break through and illuminate an otherworldly field of moguls above the tree line. Then we’d strap on our boards, glance at Delirium Dive, the certain-death cliff run on the mountain’s backside, and go the other way, threading through Douglas firs before catching a hushed two-seater back to the peak. No traffic, no lift lines, just me, Jean and the mountains.
And truly, there was nothing else. The “village” of Sunshine Village consisted of a day lodge, a saloon and the Sunshine Inn, which had 84 rooms about to undergo a thorough renovation. That was it. When the day was done, there was no lingering with locals. It was back to Banff.
In the waning hours of the day, the town of Banff is lovely. The sun takes its time sinking into the west, and the deepening indigo of the sky limns the surrounding mountains with startling clarity. The lights come on along Banff Avenue, and after an après-ski nap, the tourists wander in little groups, looking for food and amusement. They seem refreshingly normal — no Prada, no furs — and it makes sense that even though Banff does boast a Louis Vuitton shop, it’s overshadowed by a two-story Gap next door.
A skater on Lake Louise, set against the backdrop of Victoria Glacier.
Photo: Bonny Makarewicz for The New York Times
Which is not to say Banff is unfashionable. A boutique called Crème carries hipster labels like We Are the Superlative Conspiracy. Hero Shirts sells tees with Soviet-propaganda-style images of Canadian Mounties. Saltlik, a steakhouse with branches in Vancouver and Calgary, attracts the cocktail set. And restaurants like the Bison Restaurant and the Maple Leaf Grille often feature decidedly haute specialties, like braised Broek Farms bacon with seared scallops or Brome Lake duck with Saskatoon berry jus.
But I didn’t come to Banff for cuisine. And I didn’t need visions of Carmen Creek bison tenderloin dancing before my goggles as I braved black diamonds. I needed sustenance, and I found it at the Elk & Oarsman, a pub with a wood-beamed ceiling where everyone seems to gather. Seth Rogen look-alikes swilled the crisp house lager, and hardcore snowboard girls cheered hockey games on TV. Jean and I ate elk burgers, Tuscan-sausage pizzas and chicken wings — it was the kind of place I would go if I lived there.
There would be time for sampling finer foods, but first we would have to earn that. So the next morning, we went to Lake Louise, a 45-minute drive from Banff. With 4,200 skiable acres spread over four peaks, and a vertical drop of 3,250 feet, Lake Louise is the classic big-mountain experience — but these statistics hardly do it justice. How, for instance, do you quantify The View?
Number of degrees you can turn without losing sight of The View: 360.
Number of clouds in the sky: 0.
Number of peaks visible: Infinite.
But these are mere figures. Jean and I carved through the powder bowls, watched skiers leap off cliffs in a big-mountain competition, then rode the Ptarmigan lift to around 8,000 feet above sea level and stared at an unending ocean of mountains. Their mass didn’t make us feel small; rather, it rendered size irrelevant. This, The View told us, was a universe that could encompass both puny us and the Canadian Rockies.
“Lake Louise is living proof that God is a skier — and he lives here,” said Sandy Best, an owner of the tour company SkiCanada, whom we ran into on one of the peaks.
“It’s cheaper than Europe,” added a skier from Boston.
As I observed the mountains, my imagination took hold. One huge powdered crag looked like a 900-story pile of Turkish delight; the ridges of another had the delicate fluting you find on a Kumamoto oyster; the limestone slabs of still another recalled the alternating layers of fat and meat on a pork belly.
Yes, we were hungry, but at day’s end, before we jumped into our well-earned dinner, we drove through the town of Lake Louise to the namesake body of water. It was yet another ridiculously beautiful sight: a wide, frozen disc of snow, fronted by the Fairmont Chateau Lake Louise, crisscrossed by ice skaters and shrouded by mountains, behind which the sun was slowly sinking.
“As God is my judge, I never in all my explorations saw such a matchless scene,” Thomas Wilson, the Canadian Pacific Railroad worker who in 1882 was the first non-native to discover the lake, wrote in his diary.
A MATCHLESS scene deserves a matchless meal, and I knew just where to find one: the Post Hotel Dining Room, a rustic-luxe restaurant in the heart of Lake Louise that has generated tons of accolades. The room itself was surprisingly subdued, a refined combination of backwoods lodge and alpine chic. But oh, the food! Seared rabbit loin tasted as if the bunny had been fed nothing but olive oil. A lamb-and-bison terrine packed a meaty punch. And though our waiter warned me that the grilled caribou might be gamy, it was luscious and clean-tasting. A 2003 Osoyoos from British Columbia provided just the right heat and fire for that fleshy feast.
If that dinner tipped the scales too far toward indulgence, we corrected that the next day with some backcountry skiing. Through Yamnuska Mountain Adventures, an outfitter based in Canmore, just outside Banff National Park, we hired a guide to lead us. He was Pierre Darbellay, a tall, blond, 35-year-old native of Martigny, Switzerland, who divided his time between the Alps and the Rockies. (“He’s cute!” Jean buzzed.) After picking him up in Canmore, we drove past Lake Louise and up Icefields Parkway, the lonely, snow-slicked road that eventually leads to Jasper National Park..
After an hour or so, we stopped at Bow Lake, the source of the river that flows through Banff, down to Calgary and beyond. Across the flat, frozen oblong of white loomed a ridge that led to Bow Summit; the tongue of the Crowfoot Glacier lolled down its cols.
Before we could explore it, however, we had to prepare for avalanches. There was a “considerable” chance of them that day, Mr. Darbellay said, though the risks were mitigated by two factors: our climb faced north, and most of it was not too steep, less than 30 degrees. He handed out mandatory avalanche transceivers, which we strapped around our bodies, and shovels and probes, which we crammed into our backpacks. Just as important, we strapped our snowboards to our backs, and slipped our boots into rented snowshoes, and headed into the wild.
Strolling Banff at twilight.
Photo: Bonny Makarewicz for The New York Times
It was shocking how, less than a quarter-mile from the road, civilization seemed to vanish. The trees fell away, and we fell into a rhythm as we slogged across the lake. Pause. Silent but for our breath. At the lake’s north end, nearly invisible, Num-Ti-Jah Lodge. Tiny paw prints in the snow. A bluish ice cave in the glacier. Above, a grayness that absorbed the mountaintops.
At the base of the ridge, we contemplated the summit. It was a long way away. This was the enormousness I’d been seeking, and it was ... enormous. The slope may have been less than 30 degrees, but Jean and I were in less than stellar physical condition, and with every searing step I could feel the caribou, the terrine, the wine burning off my thighs. Soon, we had all removed our jackets, and when we rested, the air filled with our heaving. Well, mine and Jean’s at least.
Mr. Darbellay pointed at a distant boulder. “It’s harder higher,” he said, “but more fun going down!”
After what felt like another hour, we reached the boulder, unloaded our gear and spread out a picnic: bread, salami, salmon jerky and triple-cream brie. I uncorked a half-bottle of syrah, and Mr. Darbellay opened a thermos of tea; we mixed them together: thé au vin, a delicious Swiss innovation.
As we ate, we looked back at where we’d come from. The clouds had cleared entirely and a sparkling blue shone behind the peaks. Squinting, we could pick out the car parked near the highway. In a few more minutes, we would be joyously flying down through thick powder, on a single run we wouldn’t have the energy to repeat, but for now we simply sat there, high up in these mountains, with nothing but snow, snacks and each other.
A PLACE FOR SEEING, NOT BEING SEEN
HOW TO GET THERE
Air Canada flies nonstop daily from Kennedy Airport to Calgary International, with round-trip fares starting at $670 according to a recent Web search. From Calgary, it’s a two-hour drive to the town of Banff. A park permit is necessary for all visitors; it’s 9.80 Canadian dollars per person per day, or 19.60 Canadian dollars for a family or group ($7.72 or $15.43 at 1.27 Canadian dollars to the U.S. dollar), and can be purchased at the park’s entrance. For more information, visit www.pc.gc.ca/Banff.
THE MOUNTAINS
Lake Louise Ski Area (800-258-7669; http://www.skilouise.com/) and Sunshine Village (877-542-2633; http://www.sunshinevillage.com/) have day tickets starting at 75.95 Canadian dollars, while Mount Norquay (403-762-4421; http://www.banffnorquay.com/) starts at 55 Canadian dollars. Tri-area passes, available at SkiBig3.com, are often a better deal, and include free Friday-night sessions at Norquay.
For backcountry excursions, contact Yamnuska Mountain Adventures (Suite 200, 50 Lincoln Park, Canmore; 866-678-4164; http://www.yamnuska.com/). Prices vary with the number of people in a group; two skiers would each pay 255 Canadian dollars per day, not including avalanche gear, transportation or food. Alternatively, you can hire private, certified guides directly through the Association of Canadian Mountain Guides (http://www.acmgguides.com/).
WHERE TO STAY
Blue Mountain Lodge, 327 Caribou Street, Banff; (403) 762-5134; http://www.bluemtnlodge.com/; doubles from 79 Canadian dollars.
Fairmont Banff Springs, 405 Spray Avenue; (403) 762-2211; www.fairmont.com/banffsprings; doubles from 299 Canadian dollars.
Fairmont Chateau Lake Louise, 111 Lake Louise Drive; (403) 522-3511; www.fairmont.com/lakelouise; doubles from 299 Canadian dollars.
WHERE TO EAT AND DRINK
Bison Restaurant and Lounge, 213-211 Bear Street, Banff; (403) 762-5550; http://www.thebison.ca/; dinner, about 55 Canadian dollars per person, not including wine.
Elk & Oarsman, 119 Banff Avenue, second floor, Banff; (403) 762-4616; http://www.elkandoarsman.com/; dinner, about 25 Canadian dollars per person, including drinks.
Maple Leaf Grille & Lounge, 137 Banff Avenue, Banff; (403) 760-7680; http://www.banffmapleleaf.com/; dinner, about 55 Canadian dollars per person, not including wine.
Post Hotel Dining Room, 200 Pipestone Road, Lake Louise; (403) 522-3989; http://www.posthotel.com/; dinner, about 100 Canadian dollars per person, not including wine.
The grand, castlelike Fairmont Banff Springs, built in 1888 and perched above the rushing Bow River.
Photo: Bonny Makarewicz for The New York Times
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Ski Banff
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Banff National Park, Canada
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Ski Guides (December 6, 2007)
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