Between holding onto the slave reality of working a “real” job, the Rio still doing its best slurpee impression and few and far between weekend swell opportunities, winter caaaaaaaan draaaaaaaaaag onnnnnnnnnnn in this archipelago. There are options, however.
All you really need is a shred tool; XC, DH, crazy carpet, toboggan or surf de neige and a backpack full of goodies. There’s really no limit to what constitutes goodies: cheese fondue, smokies, marshmallows, LSD, Tomme, Gruyere, beef jerky, MDMA, Pep ‘n’ Ched, Jim Beam, Chat Sauvage, toots, PBR for the street cred conscious, PR’s, ipod + speakers, Bach and Bagels, Bialetti + stove and at least one good knife and 3 lighters.
Despite a lacklustre winter thus far, we still manage the best way we can, sans discrimination: No skier vs snowboard gripes, $5 100m vert hills, $90 “1%er” hills like Playa Tremblant or rustique, untrimmed bush whacking at any one of the dozens of closed ski hills in the province. Some are even known to sleep in parking lots, like the ski bums of yesteryear.
Ignoring the horribly fascist fashions of ski and snowboard outerwear, jeans and extra layers are pretty much the best way to go, unless you plan on making a camping trip out of it. If you really must have ‘technical outerwear’ (read: hideous over branded, orangutan camo print vomit) just visit any of the struggling box stores and have your pick from last season’s leftovers at a 40-80% discount. The sales staff surely knows nothing but marketing drivel, so ignore any of the “hey brah, did you know Shaun White scored a perfect 100 in the X Games?” that will inevitably come your way, of course, after the salesperson is done txting their mom’s, updating their facebook status and adjusting their beanie to the perfect angle. I fear the kids aren’t in fact, alright.
In the event that mountain schralping doesn’t suit your palette there are always ponds, swamps and baseball diamonds-turned rinks to skate on. There’s Parc Jarry and Lafontaine for classical music, champagne bubbly influenced skating with a partner or Parc Laurier to test your mettle against the testosterone-charged captains of yesterday’s Juvenile hockey dreams. Rule of thumb: the less you look like a hockey jock(leather gloves, lumberjack quilted top, crunked stick), the less chance you have to be accepted into their circle and the greater chance they will become violent when you commence skating circles around them.
The great outdoors is just that. Great. And there is always delivery beer from the dep, but that’s another type of greatness ain’t it.
