Finding Querencia at Fairy Meadows

With some Girl Math, Canadian Style

“Never miss an adventure, no matter how small.”

~ Shirley Kohls

I’d never heard his quote until a few weeks ago. It was the advice one of my comrades was given by a family friend after his father died of cancer when he was a child growing up in Juneau. This was just a small detail that stuck from the many stories told around the dinner table during my recent bucket-list trip to the Fairy Meadows (Bill Putnam) hut in British Columbia.

Looking back on my life, I suppose I figured it out myself, but I wish someone had given me that prescription fifty years ago!

The Fairy Meadows hut, deep in the glaciated Selkirk mountains north of Rogers Pass, is managed by the Alpine Club of Canada. The ACC “maintains a wide variety of family-friendly huts in alpine meadows, backcountry powder paradises, remote climbers’ refuges, and everything in between.” A friend drew the competitive lottery for this one, and 15 of us jumped on board to exploit his good luck.

The hut is only accessed by helicopter, but once you are dropped off, only human-powered transportation (backcountry skiing) is available until you are picked up again a week later. This situation, it turned out, is ideal for the Viking Laws that kept us safe the rest of the week:

VIKING LAWS

I. BE BRAVE AND AGGRESSIVE

BE DIRECT
GRAB ALL OPPORTUNITIES
USE VARYING METHODS OF ATTACK
BE VERSATILE AND AGILE
ATTACK ONE TARGET AT A TIME
DON’T PLAN EVERYTHING IN DETAIL
USE TOP QUALITY WEAPONS

II. BE PREPARED

KEEP WEAPONS IN GOOD CONDITION
KEEP IN SHAPE
FIND GOOD BATTLE COMRADES
AGREE ON IMPORTANT POINTS
CHOOSE ONE CHIEF

III. BE A GOOD MERCHANT 

FIND OUT WHAT THE MARKET NEEDS
DON’T PROMISE WHAT YOU CAN’T KEEP
DON’T DEMAND OVERPAYMENT
ARRANGE THINGS SO THAT YOU CAN RETURN

IV. KEEP THE CAMP IN ORDER

KEEP THINGS TIDY AND ORGANIZED
ARRANGE ENJOYABLE ACTIVITIES WHICH STRENGTHEN THE GROUP
MAKE SURE EVERYBODY DOES USEFUL WORK
CONSULT ALL MEMBERS OF THE GROUP FOR ADVICE

---

The arrival of an “atmospheric river” dashed our aspirations for sun-drenched days of powder skiing. Initially, touring near the hut amid the treeline proved satisfactory, with a fresh 8 inches of snow blanketing the old tracks. However, by the third day, as rain replaced the snow and temperatures soared to 40 degrees Fahrenheit, the once pleasant conditions morphed into slushy terrain, testing our knees and dissuading us from tackling steeper slopes. Meanwhile, our guides, confronted with unusually high avalanche risks amidst an uncharacteristically shallow snowpack, struggled to design tours that would take us beyond the daunting 1-inch zipper crust into the foggy, milky alpine up high.

Determined to make the most of our situation, we embarked on an adventure dubbed "Crustology 4.1." Leading the charge was our fearless head instructor, a native of Juneau, renowned in Jackson Hole, and a former Valdez Extreme Skiing competitor. As we clumsily attempted jump turns on 20-degree slopes, he offered sage advice: "It's simple—maintain the balance between your feet and gently initiate the turn." Easier said than done, we found. For a glimpse into the world of Crustology, take a listen below!

If we didn't arrive as a family, we certainly departed as one. Our group encompassed the full spectrum of familial ages: I, as the Grandma figure, eagerly raced home for a beer after grueling 2500-vertical foot days, nearly four decades senior to our youngest member—a recent college graduate and cross-country star who thrived on 6-10,000 feet days before dutifully hauling water and stacking wood. Gratefully, we were spoiled for choice, guided by three exceptional guides and a cook trained in the bougie-heli-ski-lodge scene, who nourished our weary souls with delightful meals and endless laughter.

In the absence of external distractions, our sole focus became forging bonds with our fellow adventurers. In a hut shared with 18 other souls, every midnight snort and toot echoed throughout, while shared chuckles over nocturnal outbursts punctuated each morning coffee session. It was an environment where vulnerability was inevitable—whether gripping the thin line to my harness before descending a 50-degree couloir or shedding sweat and tears in a wood-fired sauna infused with the scent of eucalyptus, sharing memories of departed friends.

Fortune smiled upon us, as the harmony among our group remained unmarred, thanks in no small part to our resourceful, considerate guides who swiftly nipped any potential hazards in the bud. Our Polish-Canadian chef, a master of climbing, skiing, and comedy, ensured that a pot of homemade soup, nachos, spicy perogies, or a charcuterie board was always at the ready, preempting any dips in energy levels, inebriation, or lapses in judgment.

This journey, akin to my autumn bike excursion from Moab to Durango, pushed the limits of every physical faculty within my aging body. Lydia, our IFMGA-certified guide from New Zealand by way of Canada, navigated my uncertainties with finesse. Standing atop the steepest couloir, as I peered nervously over the edge, watching the first skier descend, she met my apprehensive gaze and gently inquired, "Are you ready?" Sensing my hesitation, she offered me the rope and decisively declared, "You're next."

teal seracs draped 
in fog beckon me skyward –
Nature’s gate to awe

The Spanish term "querencia" lacks a precise translation into English, but through my recent involvement in destination stewardship planning for the Town of Taos, I've come across a fitting interpretation: "The place where one's strength is drawn from; where one feels at home; the place where you are your most authentic self." This is precisely what I experienced, and I sincerely hope that everyone, including our guides, felt this same sense of querencia at Fairy Meadows.

Not one to waste idle time, our injured skier spent the last day in the hut creating a poem eulogizing our adventure and thanking our ski god, Ullr. While others were recognized for their steep skiing and athletic prowess, of me he said: 

Sue quietly crushed it, showing us all what can be done, a smile on her face, having the most fun.

I can’t imagine a better compliment.

Girl Math …

Trip Summary: 7 nights, 7 days, 2 bedrooms - one for 18 of us + one for the head guide who was sick (but wore a mask, so no one got COVID until we got home).

19: our group total, which included 15 skiers, three guides, one amazing chef, and 29 pairs of skis (a few extras just in case).

3: the number of helicopter rides that were scheduled to bring us all in with 100 pounds per person, but we paid an extra $1470 (Canadian, thank goodness) to pay for the fourth helicopter to bring in extra bags and three pony kegs from the local Whitetooth Brewery in Golden.

80 degrees (F): the approximate temperature shift in the Selkirks in January from lows in the negative thirties to highs in the mid-forties. Snowpacks and mountain guides love this shit.

1: our injury – an expert telemarker’s bicep was torn when his pole stayed stuck in the crust while the rest of him turned.

2: Luxurious “rest” days I took, filled with reading, writing, napping, drinking frozen blended mudslides, and eating freshly baked white chocolate-dried cherry cookies while playing a pre-lunch game of Cards Against Humanity.

2: the double knee replacements that are looking me in the eye before I do something like this again. It’s only a matter of time …

Thank you to my comrades for so many great photos

There’s a race of men that don’t fit in,

A race that can’t stay still;

So they break the hearts of kith and kin,

and they roam the earth at will.

They range the field and they rove the flook,

And they climb the mountains’ crest;

Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,

And they don’t know how to rest.

~ Robert Service

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