My holidays, like many people living away from their hometown, involved a whirlwind of a vacation, last minute decisions, some that seemed at times rather poorly-planned. But in the end, I did what I had set out to do – visit family, check in with some old friends, completely forget about having a New Year’s Eve plan, and find some deep snow to ride.

After spending two out of six days driving through northern Ontario, I flew back to Calgary at midnight where I made the decision that it would be a good idea to rack up another 1,347 kilometres on the good old Ford and drive overnight to Nelson, B.C.

Needless to say, by the time I got to my final destination in the morning and proceeded to ride Whitewater Resort all day, I was exhausted. So much that I couldn’t even care less that it was New Year’s Eve. I had found what I was looking for – a new town with a new world of resort terrain to explore; no lineups, no frills (the hill only has two lifts, both rickety two-seaters that sway back and forth as you hold on to a questionably legal safety bar), and lots and lots of snow.

After two days of riding in the deep white stuff, I ventured yet another hour west to Red Mountain in Rossland.

I was immediately disappointed with the terrain. I had been spoiled by making my own trails every run through the glades of Whitewater, and now I found myself sitting at a mid-mountain lodge, drinking a beer well before noon, looking at a trail map and thinking I should have stayed in Nelson.

Then someone began to change my day. A teenager no older than 13 came up and asked if I was looking for a good place to ride. I said yes, and he proceeded to tell me all the good runs to hit up without actually killing myself.

I thanked him as he took off to find his own local spot.

I continued sitting there, drinking my beer when a middle-aged man approached me. He said he saw the boy giving me suggestions, and he had some himself.

I told him I wasn’t a big fan of lineups, that I had driven quite a ways to get here, and just wanted the runs with the steepest terrain, most snow, and fewest people. No problem, just go here, here, and here he said – there is nobody there, and the snow is all untouched.

What a friendly place, I thought, as I thanked him for his help got back on my board to find my newest piece of heaven.

The run was satisfactory, but I had still been on better in last two days. Red Mountain is supposed to be the hidden gem of B.C.! I was still hopeful, and took another lift up to the man’s second suggestion.

On the lift, another man asked how I was liking the day – I told him it was good, but he could tell I wasn’t keen on it. I explained where I had been earlier in the day, and he understood.

That’s where I take my four-year-old kid, he said.

The rest of the ride up the lift was a play-by-play description of where to go find the best of the best of Red Mountain. I had my own personal guide, as he pointed to the different places from the lift – small, pure white patched that seemed impossible to get to, yet he told me how. He was excited, and his excitement rubbed off. I spent the rest of the afternoon going straight to the top, hiking through knee to waist deep powder to the peak, and finding new lines down the hill, dropping off rocks and zipping through trees (although my helmet and gear that now smell like pine might not think I was so great at it).

Throughout the ten-hour drive home the next day between energy drinks and coffees, I kept thinking how my day could have turned out if those three people hadn’t been so friendly. It was such a nice change to see locals at a hill happily sharing their knowledge of the hill, rather than the obnoxious ones who you so often see at some resorts who think they rule the town. (Trust me, they exist).

I’ve never been one for new year’s resolutions, but to keep karma and me on the same side, I’ll be sure to show anyone visiting Marmot where to go to get the most out of their ski trip to Jasper this season.