To many people, homes are houses, homes are families, and homes are distinct moments in time. It’s never a singular item that can be described or shown, because home is indivisibly personal. Yet to a group of skiers from the West Kootenays, home is a mountain. It’s a mountain that has shaped the personalities and experiences of a generation that grew up during the freestyle skiing revolution at one of the world’s true freeski destinations. Here, friendships were formed under the cold, yet welcoming clutches of a mountain that was almost more person than place. And still, every single year, this mountain once again becomes home to the whoops, hollers, and destructive skiing of Rossland’s former youth. Red Mountain’s motley diaspora reconvenes each Christmas, in some form or another, to celebrate their stoic, granite home. 

These lucky skiers found their home beyond the Tyvek’d houses and slush-ridden streets of Rossland, British Columbia, a place where others see only slow chairlifts and forgotten promises of bygone snow years. This home is not always kind. The snow isn’t perfect, and the fickle temperatures sometimes mean that the shift from expansive powder snowflakes to rain is all too sudden. The interior location of the mountain means its “snow count” (the dick measuring contest of ski resorts) is often meager compared to coastal resorts. And yet, every December, the inundation of expert skiers onto its slopes is uncanny. Some years it’s a contest to see who has the least core shots, while others it’s for the most face shots. This particular mountain breeds strong skiers, ones who can’t seem to resist the call of their home. 

This December was unlike any other in recent memory. It featured days that were deeper than any over the entire preceding season, and the mountain boasted a formidable base even prior to opening day. Local talents such as Mike Hopkins, James Heim, Dane Tudor, Leah and Brodie Evans, Colston VB, and Alex Berg rushed to the fore, eager to experience the best skiing in the world. Hefty claim? Sure, but there’s no place like home. It’s often been said that a few inches at Red is better than a foot anywhere else, and if you ask anyone who calls the mountain home, you’ll likely get the same response. So when Ullr sends a generous Christmas package, and the right people are there to receive it, the skiing simply can’t be compared. 

As children, we’re raised to either love or hate our homes. In Rossland, the culture is heavily in favor of the former. Kids at the local school grow up with the “15 centimeter rule” engrained in their minds, which dictates that given 6 inches of fresh snow overnight, school is officially considered a secondary concern. This is, of course, subject to individual parental variations; where some enforce a strict 30cm policy, others are more liberal with the measuring stick. Learning the zones of the mountain, for many, comes from a childhood spent getting lost in the tight trees and being forced to jump off cliffs out of sheer necessity. It’s the mini-golf circus of Links Line, the capricious slopes of Noddy Brown, the thin Mona Lisa smile of Pale Face, and so many others that beckon to those who call Red home. Combining meat and potatoes terrain, salty people, icing sugar snow and slow-as-molasses lifts, it’s got a homemade recipe for an experience unlike any other. 

When December ends, real life resumes for many skiers who have 9-5 jobs, and the serious skiing and filming starts for professional skiers now living elsewhere. For this group of skiers, Red Mountain is a place that will always endure; through tough snow years, warm temperatures, and “crowds”, its motherly touch will remain. Maybe if you visit Red, you’ll hate it. Maybe it will be the worst vacation of your life. But stick it out, learn to call it home, and you’ll never see another slope the same way.