Owl’s Head with a Wingman

The last couple of seasons have been anything but predictable. With that in mind, I decided to mix things up and go for a new pass. Last Spring, Owl’s Head offered a midweek pass for a limited time. If you signed up with three of your friends, It worked out to about 450/4 ways.

Cheap, and it entitled the bearer to ski the rest of the season and then daily until next Christmas when it would convert to midweek and non-holiday. I figured that the closest I might get to Jay was seeing it from the couple of south-west facing slopes of Kaboul. With a group of us committing, it meant that we’d always have someone to carpool with too.

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Sommet Saint Sauveur Drops the Puck

White Ribbon season has never done it for me. Skiing is supposed to be an expression of freedom, and I never felt that while bouncing down an icy highway with so many others. But, with the forecast predicting 5 millimeters of frozen rain before a huge warmup, the power of schuss compelled me to get over preconceived notions and enjoy a day — or night — outside. You don’t know till you go, they say.

drone photo of Sommet Saint Sauveur at night

Well ‘they’ don’t always know what they’re talking about, but this time it was great advice. I hadn’t been to Sommet Saint Sauveur in quite some time. For me, it’s almost a victim of being too close and obvious to consider, but that just shows what I know.

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Le Pro of Mont Pinacle

While the rest of the world has experienced a collective Groundhog Day over the past 15 months of Covid lockdowns, I’ve had an identity crisis of a different variety. I’m living in Quebec and I wonder, am I a climber posing as a skier, or a skier posing as a climber? And, is it silly to define yourself as either in a place where you can’t practice either for the majority of the year? Would it make more sense to simply play video games? Every day must be a pow day if you live to fire up the Playstation.

The Planétarium Sector

These thoughts rolled through my head as the wheels turned putting Montreal in the rearview. We were on the way to tick Camay, a classic 5.6 multi-pitch on Mont Pinacle.

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