🇨🇦 RED Mountain 2025 Recap: Boarder Crossing
“Think about how awesome this would be with a foot of snow on it.”
My friend Josh and I repeated this mantra throughout our week at RED Mountain, trying to maintain perspective as we navigated the slick, icy conditions that had transformed one of British Columbia’s best kept secrets into an ice rink. After 20+ years of friendship and countless conversations about doing a proper ski trip together, we’d finally made it happen. And here we were, two Americans in Canada during a tense political moment, riding an empty mountain with stellar terrain that we mostly couldn’t access because it was encased in ice.
The trip materialized after I won free lift tickets and hotel nights at The Josie, a modern ski-in/ski-out hotel at RED’s base. I’d been following RED Mountain Homes for months, intrigued by the possibility of investing in a mountain that hasn’t yet been overdeveloped and overwhelmed—in other words, the opposite of Breckenridge. RED is an anomaly – one of North America’s oldest and largest resorts that somehow remains blissfully uncrowded.
The border and The Josie
Two views, 8 miles apart.
The contrast with your typical corporate American resort is striking. RED maintains a relaxed, rustic character that feels increasingly rare. Lifts run without lines (except on powder days). The vibe is unmistakably different – something Josh immediately noticed on his first visit to interior BC.
On our second day, we witnessed one of RED’s most striking phenomena – an inversion. As we ascended the lift, we passed through a thick blanket of clouds. Emerging above them revealed a sea of white, stretching across the sky beneath us. The locals call it “the Kootenay sea,” and it transformed an otherwise disappointing snow day into something magical. Standing at the top of the Motherlode chair, looking across this otherworldly landscape, the ice conditions below us momentarily didn’t matter.
A hard freeze/thaw cycle just before our arrival had locked the mountain into a firm grip. Our first night there (Monday) was cold, and subsequent overcast days prevented any meaningful softening. Off-piste terrain was essentially unskiable, relegating us to groomers and the lower elevation Topping Creek chair. When I’d visited in 2019, I had a memorable storm day with powder turns in the trees, but that version of the mountain didn’t materialize despite the enthusiastic descriptions I baited Josh with before the trip.
3 of the 4 peaks
Granite, Grey, and Mt. Kirkup, taken from the top of Red.
Midweek brought a few inches of fresh snow – not enough to transform conditions, but it did improve things marginally. Our best day came after joining one of RED’s free mountain tours, which are practically the only place you’ll ever see a concentration of skiers on the mountain. After some coaxing, our guide led us into Oil Can, a double-black featuring enormous moguls hanging off a steep, treed run. Threading tight turns between bumps that functioned essentially as 5-10 foot cliffs when taken head-on, we finally found some soft turns hidden among the otherwise icy terrain.
We’d actually been aiming for Beer Belly (a similar but less technical run), but ventured far enough past it to end up in Oil Can instead. Without the guide, I wouldn’t have risked leading Josh into unknown territory given the potentially miserable conditions. We also scored some decent turns down Booty’s Run, another steep double-black that was firm but manageable. The experience reminded me of winters spent in Fernie years ago, where firm groomers were common, and much steeper than the average at Breck.
Despite the six year gap since my last time at RED, certain features came back instantly – the two chairs at the base, the imposing cliff bands visible from Motherlode chair on the way up Granite mountain, and the fun runs off Paradise chair. Others brought flashes of recognition as we worked our way across the resort.
After four days of ice and groomers and frustration, we made the call to day-trip to Whitewater, about 90 minutes away. I texted my friend Matheson Kincaid, who had been one of my hosts during my seasons with Nonstop in Fernie (2015-16 and 2016-17). I hadn’t seen him since staying at his place in Nelson on my way from Revelstoke to Fernie, about seven years earlier.
The next morning, as we drove to Whitewater, Matheson sent me a Facebook memory showing that we had ridden that very mountain together, seven years previous. Seven years to the exact calendar date since we’d last shared turns on those slopes.
Whitewater sidecountry lines, 7 years apart
Unfortunately, conditions weren't right for a repeat this trip.
Conditions at Whitewater proved markedly better than RED – the mountain’s aspect better protected snow from sun damage, resulting in grippier groomers, though off-piste remained firm. Matheson gave us a tour, and Josh got to enjoy views of the massive sidecountry terrain in Ymir bowl where the Freeride World Tour would be held a few weeks later. After riding, we connected with Matheson and his partner for dinner in Nelson, and walked the main street of a city that still retained its distinct hippie character from my previous visit.
Our visit coincided with a particularly strained moment in US-Canada relations. We stopped into a BC liquor store to take photos of the signs proclaiming “Buy Canadian Instead” – a direct response to recent US tariffs and escalating trade tensions. Conversations with locals-all of whom were friendly and kind to us-added another dimension to our journey – two Americans abroad during a time when our country’s actions were actively damaging relationships with one of our closest allies.
Canada making its feelings clear through empty shelves.
Where entering Canada had been, well, like stopping at a stoplight, returning meant navigating automated scanners, an unexpected stop light, and a notably gruff border agent despite our being the only travelers crossing at that time. It wasn’t difficult, just less pleasant than our northward journey.
This trip touched on a few things that have been on my mind lately: my desire to live and ski somewhere less developed; an interest in buying a place of my own; considerations about good real estate investments; the increasing impact of climate change on snowsports; and a longstanding desire to get back to the Powder Highway. All these elements collided during this trip.
Conversations with locals in both Rossland and Nelson consistently turned to the changing seasons. What had once been reliable winter conditions from Christmas through March now felt compressed to late December through February, with March becoming increasingly unreliable. More frequent freeze/thaw cycles – exactly what had compromised our trip – are becoming the norm rather than exceptions.
Matheson pointed out something I didn’t know: RED sits in one of the drier areas of BC compared to Fernie, Whitewater, and Revelstoke. This geographical reality, combined with its lower elevation and climate trends, gives me pause about RED being the right place to buy, despite its ambitious development plans and favorable real estate prices. There might be advantages to having Canadian assets given the current political climate, but the long-term outlook for consistent snow conditions creates uncertainty I can’t ignore.
When we left on Saturday morning after a few more halfhearted turns in mediocre conditions, I felt a twinge of regret that Josh hadn’t experienced RED Mountain at its best. And we were surprisingly not able to see any of RED’s actual new housing units. Still, the information I gathered about climate patterns gives me plenty to consider. RED’s lower elevation, drier climate, and increasingly unpredictable March conditions point to challenges that ambitious development plans still won’t overcome.
The trip wasn’t what we’d hoped for snow-wise, but a week riding with an old friend beats a week at the office regardless of conditions. That seven-year Whitewater coincidence with Matheson was the icing on the cake. And of course, it dumped a ton of snow on RED and Whitewater as soon as we got home.