Revelstoke has an enviable reputation for being the snow capital of BC. It regularly gets some of the biggest dumps of snow in North America and lies on the banks of the Columbia River.
To the east lie the Selkirk Mountains and Glacier National Park while the Kootenays and the fabulously named Mount Begbie nestle to the south of the city. I say city but with less than 9000 residents, city is perhaps a stretch for those who live in the Big Smoke or Auld Reekie. Pulling into the car park of the Swiss Chalet Motel after another picture postcard drive via Silverton and a free ferry crossing (Cal Mac take note), I couldn’t help but laugh at the “Don’t pet the bears” sign. BC Canadians clearly have a refined sense of humour – other signs we saw included “Sweet dreams are made of cheese”, “It’s almost the end of September – Wake up the guy from Green Day” and one about Donald Trump that Jayney Godley would have heartily approved.
Once settled in, we went for a wander round downtown. Compared to Rossland, it felt almost metropolis like but had an equally appealing vibe to it. All of the shops units were occupied and filled with independent retailers – business seemed prosperous and even on a late Wednesday afternoon in late September, there was a bit of a buzz to the place. Mindful that we had two big days of riding ahead of us, we opted to make use of the Downtown Dollars we had been given by the Tourism Board and hit up Kawakubo Sushi restaurant. I watched in slack jawed astonishment as Mark and MJ made their way through quite the most sushi that I have ever seen on a dinner table in my life. It looked incredible but by the end, they were both looking a tad worse for wear as each tried in vain to fight the inevitable food coma. Like a veritable Mr Creosote, Mark started circular breathing as he tried desperately to make some space in his massively overstuffed stomach. It wasn’t pretty but like the true champion he is, he still managed a post prandial ice cream from a nearby gelateria.
Day 1 – exploring the high alpine
After some fantastic forest riding in Fernie and Rossland, we were in the mood for something a little different. Enter stage left was our guide for the day, Matt Yaki, co-founder of Wandering Wheels guiding company. Yet again, we had struck guiding gold. With many years of guiding experience not just in Canada but also in South America and Nepal, Matt is a seasoned traveller in the backcountry. Laid back with an encyclopaedic knowledge of the trails in and around Revelstoke and further afield to the likes of Golden and New Denver, he immediately became Mark’s new best pal as he set us up on his fleet of Transition light weight e bikes outside his shop. No toiling up the climbs for us. Loading up the truck (another Ford F150 – clearly the choice of the Canadian connoisseur mountain biker), within a few minutes, we found ourselves making our way up a bumpy fire service road for several kilometres to reach the car park in the sky. With expansive views down the valley to the Columbia River and mountains beyond, we all sensed that we were in for something just a little bit special.
With this being MJ’s first time on an e-bike, Mark and I were eager to see how he fared. By his own admission, never one to have felt the need to drop money on an e bike, he was a natural skeptic. Within barely a minute of us climbing up the trail, he announced that most of his nine bikes had been rendered pretty much surplus to requirements and that he was already trying to think of a way he could get one past the committee. To be fair, in this location on these trails, it would be hard not to want one. As Matt charged full gas up the climb (don’t think I didn’t see the tell-tale lights of full powered mode), for reasons still not clear to me, I kept it in the lowest power mode and had to fight to keep up. I suspect that it is because I am so used to riding e-bikes in the lowest power mode as I like to be made work on the climbs. Mark and MJ, on the other hand, had no such compunctions.
Initially open, we soon found ourselves riding through mature forest with some short but delightful technical sections of exposed rock slab to contend with. Stopping at a clearing where I half expected a Moose to be lying in wait (there wasn’t), I stopped to chat with a couple who had a ride backpack specifically designed for their terrier who looked completely at peace with the world.
It was not something I had ever encountered before but the dog was happy so who am I to question why. Regrouping atop a rocky bluff, Mark snapped off a few shots at Matt and I acted as performing photo monkeys for him. A group of more mature bikers (to be fair, it would not be hard for anyone to be more mature than us but that’s another story) passed us and we continued to leap frog each other as we stopped for photos, the emerging scene making those stops all the more frequent.
Reaching a small tarn, we got chatting with our new friends. All retired, they called themselves the Thursday Geezers and the Wednesday Wheezers. Aboard e-bikes, they waxed lyrical about their riding adventures and it was lovely to see folk into their late seventies still enjoying themselves by messing about on bikes with their friends. They were a welcome reminder of the old adage that we grow old because we stop playing. After a chat with a fellow Scot who had emigrated many years previously and who managed to confuse everyone except me as he spoke in broad Dundonian, we bid them a temporary farewell before knocking out the last of the climb. The phrases spectacular and awe inspiring can be oft overused but in this instance, they are a worthy description of the flowing alpine trails and vista that met us at the top.
Everywhere we looked, the scenery was breathtaking. Exposed mountain tops abounded in every direction, each demanding a long and lingering gaze with promise of future adventures; the antithesis of the benign rolling alpine meadow that we found ourselves on, a riot of floral colour in the Spring and Summer. Just one picture and the caption “This is why” would be all you need to convince the general population that mountain biking is the best sport in the world. We could have easily spent many hours there in mindful contemplation but we had a trail to ride and pictures to take.
“So how often do you encounter wildlife on your travels in these mountains?” I casually asked Matt. “Oh, maybe fifty or sixty a season”, he replied with the assured nonchalance of someone who was no stranger to a brown or black bear. “Reckon I’ve had about forty this year already” he added. No sooner had I done the mental maths and decided that I did not like the odds for this ride, he casually added that he had tapped a couple of bears with his front wheel when he surprised them on a descent. This was not reassuring! It was an experience that was reiterated by Quinn the bike shop mechanic in Revelstoke Resort the next day. “They’re just like big dogs” he felt the need to add. Checking my bear spray was at hand lest I need it, I was less than convinced. Sure, it had been a bumper season for berries so the local wildlife were well fed but who wants to be the Darwin Award winner? Not this guy.
Computer says no.
After a lovely loop (making sure Matt went first given his Attenborough-like affinity with the big bitey creatures) that brought us back to our high point, Mark decided to go all Insta tech savvy and sent up his Hover follow me drone for some 360 degree footage, in anticipation of capturing the scenic grandeur we were embracing. Launching it in the air, I watched with growing incredulity as it slowly but inexorably moved out of range into the bowl we were sitting at the head of. “Is it meant to do that?” I asked as Mark frantically used his phone to try and regain control. Almost wafting away, it proceeded to head high above the treeline, the tell-tale whirr whine the only clue as to its presence. Trudging down the hill, Mark tried to follow it but when the batteries ran out, it was nowhere to be seen. “It’s not the drone that annoys me; it’s the lovely footage that I have lost!” he opined as he eventually rejoined us. Artificial intelligence without the intelligence, I thought to myself. Commenting out loud would not have helped matters.
Despite our technical malfunction, the descent retracing our steps made for the perfect antidote to drone induced melancholy. Matt led the way while Mark played a dangerous game of “Chase the Guide”. MJ and I were more than happy to let Mark give it the beans. We were well practiced in that game and had the scars to prove it. Stopping to make way for ascending riders, Mark laughed as he decided that he was now One Nil up with two minutes of injury time left and had no desire to lose the game in the final few seconds. A wise move.
As Kenny Rogers so eloquently put it, you gotta know when to hold ‘em and know when to fold ‘em. The rest of the descent proved to be the match of any trail we had ridden thus far on the trip. It was simply grin inducing fun and more than worth the effort of riding up. Back at the van, Matt cracked open his cool box and offered round cans of Begbie Tall Timber Ale to us. Not being a fan of beer, I took the Coke option which was equally as welcome along with a massive handful of honey mustard flavour crisps. Not the worst way to finish a classic descent. Looking to the mountains beyond, talked turned to the heli-biking and extended back country tours that Matt offers. Each of us realized that this little taster might see us all making a beeline back to Revelstoke to ride with Matt again.
After hoovering up a pound of perfectly cooked brisket in the company of Meghan of Seerevelstoke.com and Laura of Revelstoke Mountain Resort that evening, who did a fine job of getting us excited for our final day of riding at the resort, we retired a most contented bunch – albeit not before another trip to the gelateria which doubles as a ski shop in the winter months. Hey, it’s Canada. This is how they do things.
5620 – the longest lift assisted bike park descent in North America
Sitting in the cable car, our resort supplied full fat e-bikes jammed in with us to the point of feeling like human sardines, Mark and I were eager to see what our final day of riding in BC would offer us. It’s fair to say that between us, having ridden a number of bike park trails between us over the years, we had gotten a bit jaded about what they offer. There comes a point at which they can almost blend into each other; each following a familiar formula of bermed corners, tabletops and hip jumps. If I am being brutally honest, while we had open minds, our expectations were not particularly high. Popping out at the top cable car station, jackets were donned as several hundred metres of effortless ascent made for a bracing welcome to altitude. A swift refreshment at the well-appointed café and we found ourselves riding up the Stoke Trail that would deliver us to the start of 5620.
It may be resort riding but legs and lungs were still going to get a workout, much to my delight. Mark and MJ were revelling in the joy that a full powered e-bike delivers on a 500m vertical, 7 km, 100% rideable climb that pulls ever upwards through dense forest and latterly alpine meadows devoid of anything taller than some hardy grasses and shrubs. The more height we gained, the grander the spectacle as the previously cloud shrouded peaks broke through in the afternoon sunshine. It was hard not to be impressed by the show that Mother Nature was putting on for us.
Cresting a small rise, we reached the sign that denotes the start of the descent. However, never one to stick to the script, I gently encouraged my travelling companions to put in a bit more effort such that we reached the high point of McPherson Ridge. After a little hesitation, my observation that it would be a darn sight easier now to do it than when back home in the UK proved persuasive. In less than ten minutes, having navigated a barren rocky traverse, we found ourselves at the pointy end of the enormous bowl that drops away precipitously from the ridge and all the way down to the Trans Canada Highway. To have missed it would have been an act of folly – for me, it was the view of the trip. Mountains should be all about steep faces, towering walls of stone and deep valleys that disappear far beyond the horizon. Our vista did not disappoint. Revelstoke had saved the best for last.
But what of the descent? Could it possibly measure up? Only one way to find out. Donning kneepads, we retraced our steps; a minor rock mech interface thankfully proving not to be quite terminal despite breaking my gear hanger. Dropping in, the trail started with a series of perfectly bermed corners before darting into the trees. With our peripheral vision no longer distracted by the big sky scenery, our vision tunnelled and focused on the trail before us – and what a trail! The best part of 15km in length, it rides and feels like no other park trail I have ever ridden.
The berms are well constructed, the sightlines are excellent and the little hips and doubles (all marked out by little flags) are so well designed that the trail can be ridden by almost any level of rider, whether going full gas or taking it a bit more easy. At times, I found myself going altogether far faster than I had intended. My default is to always take it easy on the first run down as it is easy to get caught up in the moment and not see the deceptively stationary tree or rock that wants to stop me in my tracks. However, my mantra of rolling through the features and not jumping was quickly abandoned. I was having fun with a capital F, actually singing “Country Roads” out loud as I went. I have no delusions about being a skilled rider in the air but every time I saw a little flag, I was determined to get airborne and positively embraced the flow. The middle section of “Bagful of Boogie” (or bogies, as I misread it initially) was a particular highlight. Recently constructed, I felt confident enough to be able to ease up on the braking and let the corners do a lot of the work in controlling my speed.
By the time we reached the middle lift station, we were all feeling the combined effects of riding heavy bikes and several thousand feet of uninterrupted descending. We were definitely having to put a shift in, even if gravity was our co-pilot. Sticking to the blue flow descent, we eventually got back to the main resort lift as high as kites, ravenous with hunger. As we sat in the Rockford Bar and Grill in the resort, dining on what was without doubt the tastiest and best cooked chicken burger I have ever eaten / inhaled, we reflected on just how much we had all enjoyed 5620. Despite it being the last weekend of the summer season, the braking bumps were only making themselves felt in the lowest, most heavily tracked section of the trail. They were nothing compared to those we experienced in Morzine in the first weekend of the summer. I don’t know what the trailbuilders are doing nor how they are doing it in Revelstoke but they are definitely doing something very right indeed. If Carlsberg made blue flow trails…
The Singletrack Guide To Revelstoke
Our how to guide to Revelstoke includes getting there, prices, eating, riding, renting, and much more. Includes trail ratings for beginners to experts.
Reflections on Canada.
Having been to Canada twice before, I thought I had a good handle on what to expect but heading into the heart of BC, I was genuinely blown away by everyone we met. Canadians are lovely. There is a warmth and humour to them that is genuine and sincere. Drivers are almost all universally polite. The cuisine has massively improved in the two decades since my first visit there. People hear an accent and are interested to just chat. As for the riding, it is truly world class. We rode in three very different areas but each had us all keen to visit them again for a much longer stay. We barely scratched the surface of what was on offer but what we experienced had us all planning a return trip. Our hosts and guides could not have been lovelier nor more helpful. They made us feel very welcome and took great pride in showing us what each location had to offer. Every location was spotlessly clean. We saw no litter and everyone seemed to embrace the outdoor lifestyle.
The People!
For many riders, Whistler is seen as the be all and end all of the Canadian riding experience. It enjoys a stellar reputation and I have written in praise of the riding there previously. However, what this road trip made me realize was that there is so much more to riding in Canada. It absolutely demands and deserves your hiring of a car (or better still, a truck) and going on a road trip. You will experience much more of the culture and come away with a burning desire to return back for more.
The Revelstoke Unused Gallery
We could not have done this trip without the support of our amazing sponsors
Frisby Ridge trail is truly outstanding if you like the big, wide, open mountain vistas. It’s an easy (technical) trail [Mrs Vlad has ridden a big chunk of it and she’s not a mountain biker] and it’s also ‘out and back’ so riders of limited fitness or skill can just go as far* as they want/are capable of then turn around and glide back to the car park, and you don’t need a guide.
More technically capable and fitter riders can also tag on the Ultimate Frisby descent back down to the bottom of the valley, which is a full on technical DH trail for about 40km of singletrack in total with ~1000m climbing and ~1800m+ descending (assuming you haven’t left your car in the Frisby Ridge car park!).
Then there’s Keystone Standard Basin trail (a gorgeous 22km out-and-back alpine single track XC epic) and Marthas Creek trail (more of a DH trail with 1600m descent in 10.5km), both just north of town (though not ride-able from town, I hasten to add…)
*Apart from the obvious small descent to the lake, which makes a good turn around point