There’s nothing quite like a backyard mission, is there? After a big linkup attempt in the pass was thwarted by surprise permit area closures, Mikey and I were itching to ski something with… fewer external dependencies. The Dogtooth range fit the bill nicely, and came with the added benefit of a short commute and more sleep. Win win.

Skiing from the highest point of perhaps the most visually arresting peak around town seemed like a great choice, and its striking north couloir was ideal for the warm temperatures and winter-to-spring transitional snowpack we were experiencing. We approached from the parking lot at Kicking Horse, following the slackcountry ski out to Repeater Ridge. This is always a surprisingly quick route, and within two hours we were standing in the Holt Creek drainage after a pretty crusty ski down from the ridge.

The Holt Creek valley is really quite a beautiful spot. It’s popular with sled skiers, but by the time you mess around with loading and unloading a sled, getting in, changing gear, etc, etc, it might actually be faster to just ski in from KHMR. Your mileage may vary of course. In any case, don’t sleep on Holt just because you don’t have a sled.

The wall of genuinely gnarly couloirs above us was pretty captivating as we made our way up to the one we wanted to ski. Its fan was full of debris, which made us feel a little better about stability and a little worse about ski quality. As is so often the case with high consequence terrain, we didn’t mind the tradeoff.

Partway up the gently curving lower couloir, we started to think that maybe the snow was going to be a bit better than advertised. Above the crux of the line we became quite sure, although the transition back to soft snow and pockets of isolated windslab in such an exposed spot didn’t quite fill us with gratitude. The crux is a steep constriction in the couloir, above which the line opens into a face and a distinct convexity. It’s the kind of terrain that has you committed by the time you can fully assess it. So after some discussion, first Mikey, then I tiptoed across a few meters of spooky roll, before the terrain regained its support and the pressure was off again.

There would be an argument for climbing the south side and skiing this line top down, we decided aloud as we crested the ridge and looked back towards the resort. Much colder conditions would be required though, and we were pretty happy not to be on that south slope. Our mere presence was triggering rollers and small sloughs on the rapidly warming face. Facets and a spooky cornice prevented us from achieving the true summit, but we were still comfortably on top of the line when we dropped in.

The spectrum of different conditions, terrain features and micro-aspects lend this line a very serious feel despite its proximity to the ski hill. With the extra flotation of our skis though, we had no issues on the way down. The density changes that had made us nervous on the way up were unresponsive to ski cuts or any other loading that we puny humans could muster. True to our hunch while bootpacking: the skiing was much better than it had any right to be. The line is longer than it looks too, which made for a really excellent, wild feeling descent within sight of my front door.

Back over Repeater we went, and a perfect corn cruise to the exit track put us back in the parking lot by lunchtime. After a few early mornings in a row, it was time for a nap.