Are you a Newfoundlander?
Indeed I is me ole cock and long may your big jib draw!

After spending several days scavenging St. John's for spots with help from the local bys, it was time for us to move westward across the Rock to Corner Brook and Marble Mountain. But not before hitting up infamous George Street in St. John's. The street has the most bars and pubs per square foot than any other street in North America. Let's just say it was a special evening; we met up with local YouTube hero Donnie Dumphy of "Havin' A Time" fame and Zach Stone picked up a new nickname, Love Bone.

The next day we loaded up the VW van and blasted through the interior of Newfoundland, arriving at the luxurious Humber Valley Resort. This place was like a palace compared to our cramped hotel rooms in St. John's so it was a nice chance to stretch out, get some interneting done and relax in style.

Unfortunately, rain hit with a vengeance that night, which took a serious toll on the heaps of snow the area has had this winter. Snow banks were piled up the size of houses and locals aren't even fazed. That's just the normal snowpack on the western side of the province. "Should've been here last week" was a phrase we heard over and over again, but the crew was still industrious and motivated enough to make things work regardless of conditions.

A couple of days were spent scoping for spots in Corner Brook with the help of Heneghan's vague memories and help from local shred Dru Kennedy, who works in the park at Marble Mountain. By this point we'd moved into Marble Villa, which is the slopeside hotel at the resort. Mornings were spent maching down high speed laps at Marble and in afternoons we were on a mission for untapped spots around Corner Brook.

Thanks to Newfoundland Tourism, Go Western Newfoundland and Marble Mountain for their support. Special thanks to Dru Kennedy for showing us around Corner Brook. And finally, Dave McHugh and the staff at McHugh's Bar for screeching us in.

 
Locked and loaded. There was one lone seat squished into the back we called the Bad Kid Seat. No talking allowed. Heneghan was banished to it for missing breakfast with his grandma and making us late to hit the road. Bad!

Cape Spear, the most easterly point of North America.

Matt and Jordan check out the new digs at Humber Valley. Showers for all!

This A-frame jib was strictly for promo uses until Heneghan laced it up.

Jordan with a hero Method onto the sketchiest of sketchy landings.

Found in the Marble Mountain lodge. Shrine of awesomeness!

Pineapple Crush... only in Newfoundland

Love Bone brings the Stone to one of Corner Brook's finest.

Cod fish and a bottle of Screech. Customary to becoming honourary Newfies.

Jordan in full Captain Highliner get-up gets screeched in at McHugh's Bar.

I's the b'y that builds the boat
And I's the b'y that sails her...

Much respect to the origins of this traditional Newfoundland ditty, but rather than building and sailing boats, we've been building and sailing it on all kinds of spots dotting St. John's historic landscape. In fact, we even checked out the spot where the first Trans-Atlantic signal was made. Zach Stone, Jordan Phillips, Matt Heneghan, photog Russell Dalby and myself are here to scope this Atlantic bastion and ideally become honourary locals in the process. I believe they call this process getting "screeched in" and we plan to partake in this customary rite of passage.

This city has some of the oldest roots in the western world, so there are loads of "best kind" spots to hit. Testament to this: the Don himself, JP Walker, dropped onto the Rock last year with the People Crew unit to do some east coast sightseeing. While there hasn't been any new snow since we arrived, frequent storms can sometimes paralyze the city so there has been ample to work with. Streets go this way, that way, down there, over that way, and criss-cross in every which way direction. Houses have been built onto the sides of hills in patchwork consruction. All this makes for potential set-ups all over the city, and with the friendly good ol' bys down for the cause to come out, generously lend out generators, and help pull bungees while enjoing a few wobbly pops, it's made for quite the inviting east coast welcome.

Let's just say we're havin' a time.

The quaint little cove of Quidi Vidi. Home to Lenny Hanlon and great beer.

Jordan Phillips havin' a time through the kinks.

Dalby, nailin' it.

Matt Heneghan, best kind on the Chinese finger trap.

St. John's from Signal Hill.

The bys by the sea.

Long before the internet. Signal Hill, NFLD.

Ches's in St. John's is legit. Scallops and chips.

How many Newfies does it take to pull a bungee? Zach gets a hand from the locs...

...and then shows the bys how to do the wall boardin'.

After spending a handful of epic days riding powder deep in the Chic Chocs region, it was time to move onto fresh territory. We ventured further up the penninsula, hugging the shores of the water where the St. Lawrence meets the Atlantic, cruising past ice bergs and small fishing villages tucked into coves where mountains rise straight out of the water.

We decided to check out Murdochville, a once-booming mining town that has seen better days. It's a quiet place now but still operates a ski hill right in the middle of town. Looks like new economic activity is happening in the area in the form of green energy as wind turbines dot the horizon, an eerie view juxtaposed against the mined landscape.

We spent the next few days exploring the abandoned mining area and the mountains nearby. The area is loaded with enough potential spots to keep a crew busy for a season. You don't have to look too far to see ample run-ins dropping into perfect landing zones just waiting to have jumps built. There were also wind lips, cornice drops and man-made pillow lines and cliff bands from past mining acivity. You could say the area is now a white gold mine... cue the punchline drum.

The Chic Chocs region isn't even close to being tapped — we'll certainly be back.

Check out a short video edit of the trip from the Brothers Factory.

Sunrise in Saint-Anne-des-Monts from the patio of our home base, Chateau Lamontagne. Seguin photo

Shoreline of the Gaspe Penninsula. Seguin photo

Crew break after building a giant cheesewedge in the Quebec backcountry. Seguin photo

Anto Chamberland sending it into the mines. Seguin photo

Jeremy Cloutier producing renewable resources. Seguin photo

Anto and Jason putting the final touches on a step down. Seguin photo

Frank Bourgeois caps the trip off with a sunset blaster. Seguin photo

Bluebird skies and some of the deepest, driest pow in the history of deep, dry pow—this is how we kick off the next day at Ski Chic Chocs. Our guide and the owner of the cat operation, Stephane, is stoked to show us around his backyard. And rightly so. He's essentially pioneered backcountry cat access this side of the Rockies and he's got a lot of impressive terrain that's never seen the likes of a motley crew like us. We hop in Stephane's BV 206 (Google BV 206 right now) and start patrolling potential zones to get into.

Now that the skies have cleared and it's finally quit snowing (like that's some kind of nuisance), we're able to see the full expanse of the terrain here. Wide open alpine, tight shots, cliff bands—you name it, it's here. And it goes on and on from one bowl to the next. Even the most hardworking ripper would be hardpressed to thrash everything here in weeks.

Jeremy and Anto scope out a potential jumping spot and get to work building a step-down into a deep landing. Frank, Jason and I decide we can't get enough of the bottomless blower so, after Stephane gives the thumbs up that the snowpack is stable, proceed to shred lap after lap after lap with no end in sight to the pow available.

With bangers in the bag, stoked high fives and a few "c'est bonnes" flying around, it's safe to say the day wrapped up on a good note. We head back to Saint-Anne-des-Monts where we're staying at Chateau Lamontagne. As with any backcountry mission, days are long and spent working diligently to make the magic happen. Evenings are mellow, everyone pores over the day's photos on laptops while Jason sleeps. Seriously, he's been crashing right after dinner, all tuckered out from a tough day of 1080s.

Lucky for us, Chateau Lamontagne has been nothing short of absolute luxury during our stay. Right on the water, the views here are unbelievable from the patio of the recently renovated chateau that dates back to the mid-1800s. The food has been top-notch and we've capped off each day wondering how it could possibly be better the next. If you plan a trip to the Chic Chocs, do yourself a favour and book into this spot. You certainly won't regret it.

This isn't the Interior, it's La Belle Province. Seguin photo

Will and Oli setting up the money shot. Seguin photo

Frank and Jason calling dibs on lines. Seguin photo

Anto ripping through a canopy of deciduous trees. Croteau photo

Oli loving life in the Swedish-built BV 206, aka "The Tank." Seguin photo

Anto pauses for a moment on the ridge before dropping in. Seguin photo

Angry Bird's eye view of a sampling of Ski Chic Chocs tenure. Seguin photo

Yours truly. You didn't think I was here just for the words, did you? Croteau photo

The aftermath. Seguin photo

Our days have ended at Chateau Lamontagne with this...

...and this. Seguin photos

As far as so-called "secret stashes" go, most are few and far between nowadays. You've heard of some rad spot that someone talked about sometime, perhaps even your buddy knows a place he's promised to take you. But, in terms of true, off-the-radar spots, much has been done in some way or another on the majority of zones across the country. I'm with Jeremy Cloutier, Jason Dubois, Antonin Chamberlain and Frank Bourgeois, plus senior SBC photog Oli Croteau and Brothers Factory filmer Will Demers, to open up a relatively unknown area that has some serious potential.

Following Snowboard Jamboree in Quebec City last weekend, we piled into a few cars and drove up Autoroute Jean Lesage, which hugs the St. Lawrence as it widens and melds into salt water, eventually becoming the ocean. Our destination: the Chic Chocs mountain range of the Gaspesie (Gaspe Penninsula).

If you've been riding in Quebec before, that's awesome. Now, forget everything you know about it. It's irrelevant in this place. There are peaks here that are on par with the interior of BC. There are zones here just waiting to be opened up. This place is like the last bastion of Canadian shred adventure, idly standing by and begging to be tapped. Thing is, nobody has done it... until now.

Long known by burly salmon fisherman and bearded granola eaters, the region has numerous massive peaks stretching high enough to make for true alpine terrain. These mountains are surrounded by waters of the Gulf of St. Lawrence and a myriad of small fishing communities. The true interior is protected by the National Parks act, but open to hike-access lines. In our case, Ski Chic Chocs, the pioneering operator dropping riders into the area, invited us to check out what this place really holds in its cards.

Open a mere three years, Ski Chic Chocs has an impressive tenure that has yet to become fully realized. One look from the top of its peaks leads to dozens of drop points offering up true alpine (yes, real alpine), steep chutes, cliff bands, mixed trees and some of the deepest, driest powder anywhere. Although their business has compounded with each year, they don't yet have the same traffic as a typical cat op out west so some of the zones we were taken to had yet to be shredded this winter. That means face shots, waist deep blower, and absolutely choking on pow all day. It's going to be a good week.

True breakfast of champs; Jeremy Cloutier digging into fine dining at Château Lamontagne. Seguin photo


Morning briefing about possible entry zones and potential features. Croteau photo

Frank Bourgeois, who took third in slopestyle at the Canadian Open, forgets contest riding and opens up in the Chic Chocs backcountry. Croteau photo

Cat ride up with Jeremy, Anto and Frank B. Seguin photo

Jeremy Cloutier getting deep in a place you've never been. Croteau photo