It鈥檚 day five of our seven-day stay at Icefall Lodge, and Larry Dolecki, the lodge鈥檚 owner and lead guide, requests our attention as we鈥檙e finishing breakfast. He鈥檚 in his late 50s, married with three kids, yet still has a mischievous smile, the physique of a linebacker, and a smart-ass answer for all of our very important logistical questions.

Watch: Ski Touring From B.C.鈥檚 Icefall Lodge

鈥淭he good news is, it鈥檚 1 degree warmer today,鈥� he says. 鈥淪o, it鈥檚 -14C.鈥�

We laugh nervously. This is the balmiest day we鈥檝e had so far; the coldest: -26C.聽 I don鈥檛 know what that number means regarding temperature, as I gave up converting Celsius to Fahrenheit days ago. But I do know it means to layer up and keep track of my feet and hands. Once in the sun, it鈥檒l feel a lot warmer. Metrics and time don鈥檛 matter here. What matters is that we鈥檒l be out all day, skinning from the lodge鈥檚 front door to the untouched bowls and mountain saddles above.

This is Icefall, a heli-accessed backcountry lodge outside of Donald, British Columbia. Its appeal is its affordability and simplicity. The lodge is basic and isolated, heated by a lone woodstove and without indoor plumbing, cell service, or internet. There are indoor 鈥減ee toilets,鈥� but the rest happens in one of two wooden outhouses. All ski access is by skinning. The chopper delivers guests on a Saturday with the promise of a pick-up seven days later, weather permitting.

What Icefall lacks in bells and whistles, it more than makes up for in soul, camaraderie, and the ability to get up close and personal with the wildness and beauty of a B.C. winter.

This is my second trip to a heli-accessed backcountry lodge. I booked a week at Icefall鈥檚 sister lodge, Snowfall Lodge, in the nearby Selkirk range, two years ago with eight ladies from my Telluride ski squad to celebrate some 50th birthdays. The lodge鈥檚 capacity was 20. Ten women from Vancouver and a French couple from Los Angeles booked the other 12 spots. Of the 20, there was one dude.

At first, we were all cordial, but we sat at different tables for dinner. However, we bonded by mid-week, and by the end of the week, we鈥檇 become friends. So when the Canadian women booked Icefall for 2025 and asked if we wanted to join, it seemed a foregone conclusion. And that鈥檚 how we ended up with the same core group, plus a few new members on each team. And still only one dude.

The Icefall Lodge Experience

As we reunite at Icefall, there is no awkward cordiality; we greet each other with hugs and quick life updates. Each morning, we stretch on yoga mats, trade blister management strategies, and confirm the needed layers as Larry announces the day鈥檚 plan. It becomes our refrain.

鈥淭oday, you have two choices,鈥� he announces. 鈥淥ne group will ski above the hut to the right, and the other group will ski above the hut to the left.鈥�

Our tours are conservative the first few days. We gain a bench in the sun and ski laps in a specific area. We stay within a reasonable distance of the hut if someone needs to get down due to the temperatures.

On these days, there are more transitions鈥攖he ultimate exercise in self-care and being present. At the top of a pitch, we methodically go through each step of putting layers on for the descent, taking off skins, transitioning boots and skis to downhill mode, and drinking water and eating.

Then, we enjoy the bliss of skiing. The day before we arrived, the area received a foot of snow. It fell wet, but the week鈥檚 cold, dry temps have sucked the moisture out of it, providing us with lighter, deep, powder. We ski each pitch one at a time, no lifts or crowds, surrounded by sharp peaks and the textured lines of glacial cracks and shadows.

At the bottom, we do the reverse for the ascent, shedding layers and moving slowly; sweating while skinning is a cardinal sin. Sweat will freeze, destroying efforts to keep the core warm.

Forging a Deeper Connection

Toward the end of the third day, we ski our last pitch and transition in the shade, putting on our skins to gain elevation for the final ski back to Icefall. With no sun lingering, we feel the cold.

鈥淲henever I think things are hard in the mountains, I think of Hil,鈥� I say to Annie, one of my Telluride friends I鈥檝e been skinning behind.

On the skin track, conversations commonly freely flow from silence to stream-of-consciousness, intimate, and logistical.

鈥淚 know,鈥� she says. 鈥淭his is nothing.鈥�

We fall quiet, both thinking of Hilaree Nelson, one of the most accomplished ski mountaineers of her time. She is famous for becoming the first woman to summit Everest and Lhotse in 24 hours and for ski descents off Lhotse and Denali. But her accomplishments span pages.

To us, she was a friend and fellow Telluride mom who agonized over the same parenting and relationship issues we do. She told us of the behind-the-scenes, unpublished incidents on her epic trips. We skied, mountain biked, camped, and stood on the sidelines watching high school sports with her.

On September 26, 2022, Hilaree summited Manaslu, an 8,163-meter peak in Nepal. At the beginning of her ski descent, she was swept off the peak by an avalanche and died.

As we skin, Annie and I trade images of Hilaree鈥檚 escapades in the mountains. In less than an hour, we will be welcomed with hot soup and a beer in a warm lodge, while she would have been heading into a tent at 4,000 meters or higher. We do not compare ourselves to her, as what we鈥檙e doing isn鈥檛 comparable, but the tangential trickle effect of her existence subconsciously infiltrates us on trips like this.

The Power of Female Bonding

On the fifth day, Larry announces the good news. The temperatures are as high as -14C, and the forecast calls for sun. Today鈥檚 plan is a bit more complex.

The group going above the hut to the right will gain a high ridge and continue up the adjacent alpine valley to ski Groove Tube, a beautiful couloir with a wide apron below a prominent peak called La Clytte.

The group going above the hut to the left will ascend higher to a saddle below Mount Kemmel and ski a wide, pristine pitch called Springboard.

We laugh. La Clytte is pronounced like the female body part. We question if the male guides really know where La Clytte is, and well, you get the idea. It鈥檚 all par for the course on a (mostly) girls鈥� trip.

I fall in behind Clara, one of the Canadians, on the route to La Clytte. She is originally from Colombia and speaks English with the rhythmic intonation of a native Spanish speaker.

Our patchwork, skin-track conversation ensues. I learn that she started skiing at age 29, when she moved to Vancouver to earn her graduate degree in engineering. She followed some of her classmates to the mountains, joking that it was mostly about partying.

Her story makes the ascent go by faster and the hard work feel lighter. She turns on a switchback and recounts the nascent days dating her husband. He grew up in a ski racing family and was working toward his guide certification.

鈥淚 went backcountry skiing with him early on,鈥� she says. 鈥淗e watched me ski and said, 鈥榊ou need help.鈥� I realized I had to do something about this.鈥�

She put herself in lessons whenever she could and kept working to improve.

My respect builds as I compare her ski journey to mine and reflect on her competence. I was put on skis as soon as I could walk, raced at one of the best ski academies in the nation, and competed for a top NCAA school. I see clearly that out here, your ski r茅sum茅 doesn鈥檛 matter;聽 it鈥檚 about who you are and how you show up every day.

Later, she鈥檇 tell me, 鈥淣ow I鈥檓 a part of a group of people who are good skiers, and I feel like I fit in.鈥� I couldn鈥檛 agree more.

It Takes a Village

We transition to ski mode at the saddle of La Clytte and make our way through Groove Tube鈥檚 variable snow to its apron鈥攁 long, 1000-foot vertical pitch of pristine powder. We鈥檙e in the sun, we鈥檙e warm, and we鈥檙e done with most of the day鈥檚 climbing. We have two more playful pitches into a shaded ravine before heading into the woods back to the hut.

On the last pitch, the snow becomes thicker, and one of the French women, Emilie, falls backward. Nobo, our tail guide, radios that she has hurt her knee. Gauthier, the lead guide, and most of the group are already in the shade below.

We are abruptly reminded how quickly a situation can turn in the mountains. The most significant danger is the dropping temperature. Those waiting in the shade climb a small ridge to get in the sun. A few of us skin up to Emilie and Nobo with Gauthier. We don鈥檛 have immediate access to a heli or snowcat. There is a sled the guides can bring up from the hut, but they want to avoid using it because it鈥檚 a cold ride during normal temps and even more challenging during this especially cold snap.

Emilie is able to traverse partway down on one leg, then, Gauthier puts her on his back and skis her the rest of the way as we all follow.

The Healing Properties of Outdoor 国产吃瓜黑料

On our final ski day, I join the group heading to Springboard in the shadow of 10,207-foot Mount Kemmel.

I fall in behind Caroline, the only snowboarder on the trip. She learned to board as a child in the mountains of France and competed in the early days of snowboarding before qualifying for World Cup events. Even as a group of skiers, we can recognize her grace and comfort on the board. She plays with the terrain on her descents like a surfer riding a wave.

Caroline seemed a bit quieter and introverted than I remember. She lost her dad just three weeks earlier. Processing the grief has been compounded by a knee injury that has prevented her from getting out in the mountains. She鈥檇 been focusing on strengthening her knee for this trip.

Later, she鈥檇 tell us, 鈥淚 couldn鈥檛 find one moment that brought me relief and happiness until we did that first climb and took that first run. Instantly, I felt alive again.鈥�

We skin to an ice cave and explore it before advancing further through glacial terrain and snow-covered crevasses. Gauthier instructs us to put on our harnesses. If one of us falls into a crevasse, the guide will fish us out with a rope.

We approach the top of Springboard, and Gauthier gives us an option to skin an additional short pitch to the saddle to see the view. Corie, from the Telluride group and one of strongest skiers,聽 is uncomfortable with exposure. She eyes the shadows and contours of the snow, indicating crevasses, and decides to stay where she is.聽 Sarah, a Canadian, joins her. They鈥檙e in the sun and will take advantage of the extra time to transition to downhill mode, drink water, and eat.

Throughout the trip, it has become clear that, in general, women are not greedy skiers or mindless adventurers. There is a balance between each person wanting to push herself; no one wants to be responsible for holding others back or lessening the experience. However, each has her boundary and limit. Time at Icefall is just as much about pushing those boundaries as it is about accepting them.

The rest of us, summit and navigate back down. Then, we open up our turns down Springboard. It鈥檚 our last high alpine run. We have a few more pitches and short skins before approaching Homerun, a perfect,聽 consistent pitch down the bowl above the lodge. Corie and I rename it 鈥淲alk Off,鈥� referring to a game-winning home run at the bottom of the final inning, after which the team walks off the field.

We approach the lodge elated and relieved. There is a collective exhale and an anticipation that the lodge hang鈥攁rguably the heart of the trip鈥攚ill start earlier and last longer tonight. We鈥檒l have a sauna, drink beer, tell stories, and play games like the previous nights, but there will be no anxiety, preparations, or doubts. Tonight is about letting go.

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