In search of the pow slashy Team Get Awesome geared up to venture beyond the bounds. In BC the way it works is duct the rope and you could die. It's not illegal, or even against the rules. The rope signifies the end of the ski area, beyond you're on your own. Out there in the land of giants one must be on their game. With each member adequately equipped (working transceiver, shovel and probe) we executed a transceiver check at the ski area boundary. Our eventual destination can be seen below the largest peak in the left half of the pic.
BlueBird courtesy of Danger
Team Get Awesome in rare form-Messica, Danger, Snowmadic...
and of course the infamous Ted Shred!
Safety check / ski-to-splitty transition before dropping the back of Flute and ascending Oboe
Once atop Oboe, Cowboy Ridge emerges like a looming set on the horizon
At the bottom of Oboe we make the transition back to touring mode and plan out our line up Cowboy and our much anticipated decent!
Up Oboe Creek we go... where we stop nobody knows.
To the left or to the right? With limited time and supplies we choose the road less traveled to Cowboy instead of the other toward Fissile Peak.
Snowmadic ponders the effectiveness of Danger's cardio training.
Once on top Cowboy Mr. Shred offered Messica a future filled with pow turns and side burns. She wisely accepted his offer on the condition she gets permanent choice of line priority.
Danger eventually made it, though his cardiopulmonary system was two beats from an aneurysm.
Dropping toward lookers right of the large open face in the middle of the pic, Team Get Awesome laid down turns like we had money to burn! Sometimes you've got to get out there and find the lines wherever they may be hiding.
Trekking back towards the boundary as the sun dips below the horizon, the pic shows Oboe still shrouded in the Alpine Glow.
Making it inbounds at the cusp of North Flute and Lesser Flute as the last rays of sun died away we felt accomplished and exhausted. Strapping on the headlaps and busting out the flashlight we began the long trek back to Whistler Village. Zooming down Olympic in complete darkness with lights from the Village beckoning us forth we came across a pack of groomers. Once we hit that fresh corduroy.... oh goodnessssss.... smooth like buttering down bbq'ed corn. Circa 8pm we arrived at the base of the Whistler Gondola and ventured forth to the Dublin Gate and a much needed round of carbombs or 3.
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