Life In The Loops - A Summer at Sun Peaks

“Cawww Cawww. Cawww Cawww,” cry the unkindness of ravens from the roof of the Fireside, just as they had yesterday morning and the morning before that. I roll from bed and reach for coffee, then step toward the patio where I can see the wolf birds flying back and forth across the village stroll. I smile as I sip, and I imagine that their screams are the celebrations of a sincere excitement for the scene that lies before them. I take a moment to absorb everything that surrounds me and I almost scream the same.

Several cups of dark roast deeper, I’m sufficiently caffeinated and on the road to camp. The morning air is brisk and the world is moving slowly as I coast through the village in anticipation of another amazing day on the mountain. My freehub buzzing between the buildings is the only sound in my ear, and then I hear Brett Tippie laughing well before I take the turn around the café to meet with my campers. He has the whole group of riders on edge as he rattles off joke, after joke, relentlessly. “What does the chicken say when he sits down in the car?”

“BUCK BUCK BUCKLE-UP!”

From that field of laughter the rest of my day becomes a blur. I chase young riders down rough ridgelines and around swift turns. We kick up dust clouds, talk trash, and take on new challenges. And we all finish our day a little more self-confident than in the morning.


I close my eyes for a moment and when they open again I am riding up the lift once more. This time I press my uphill buttons and embark on a mission to new parts of the mountains. I turn my pedals slowly as I look down the valley to the Shuswap Lake and back up to the top of Tod Mountain. The trail beneath my tires is fresh cut, soft, but rolling quickly. I circumnavigate the breezy reds and purples of west facing alpine bowls and watch with steady eyes as thick grey clouds roll in from the east. Rain drops pelt the roof of my helmet and the sound they make while crashing against the visor remind me of seeking shelter beneath red tins roofs when I was younger.


The storm is short but sweet and passes just before I reach Tod Lake. A break to inhale my pocket full of granola and soak my hot head of hair in the alpine water is short lived as I hope to make it back down the mountain before dark. I follow my tracks back down a roller coaster of fireweed and summer haze. The trail and my tires connect seamlessly now that the dirt is tacky. I charge over root-beds and air from turn to turn for what feels like forever. The night is drawing near when I lift my front wheel over the final roller beneath the chair and coast the rest of the short distance back to my room at the Sun Peaks Grand.


That night a rainstorm kissed the trail. I ran into Kurtis Walton in the lift line and I asked if I could chase him down Insanity. He said yes, and I buckled up. I don’t think I could have ridden that fast without the opportunity to follow his tire tracks through the puddles and off the edges of every hill in sight. The entire trail was a high-speed dance in hopes of finding traction, but I don’t believe I ever felt it. Reaching the bottom of the mountain once more I turn my head to the left and see that blue and red flags have been erected in a curving fashion the entire length of the bunny hill. A loud man who appears similar to Bon Jovi is yelling into a megaphone, “Come one come all, to the Yeah Bru Old School Dual, grass dual slalom world championships, right here at Sun Peaks Resort!”


Riders line up along the magic carpet and trade their toonies for a taste of glory. The turf is tracked and torn to shreds as turn after turn is carved into the hillside. When the dust settles that same man on the microphone crosses the finish line as the champion and the entire village roars for him.


But that roar is soon rendered silent as the sound of Elliott Brood begins to echo above the hills and fills the valley with the siren sound of celebration. Three tall men in white suits rip the strings from their guitars and shout from the bottom of their lungs. The sun sinks slowly behind the Burfield and in the instance that the light explodes against the horizon, I feel a rise in my spirit. And just like that, another amazing summer at Sun Peaks Resort has passed me by. So we tip back tall glasses to solute the times we’ve shared and to acknowledge the times we have still yet to come.


When I roll from bed the next morning the ravens are still yelling and an immediate change in the seasons is hard to ignore. I wander off to try my hand at a round of golf as a mellow way to wind down from the wild times of the summer. Steve Riffel is an absolute all-star and teaches me the fine details of how to ensure my club will actually connect with the ball. I sort of understand, but I still blow it on every second swing. As we make our way around the back nine and soak in the alpine panoramics I feel relaxed and content with being a terrible golfer. Besides, my mind has already turned to another summer of shredding trails at Sun Peaks.


Thanks for another great seasons Sun Peaks!
Banner image courtesy of Riff Stills.

Keep up with Dylan between issues of Life In The Loops on The Kona Cog, Facebook, Twitter, and Instragram.




Sun Peaks Resort
Trailforks.com