I’ve been dreaming of an overnight snowboarding trip to Blue Mountain for years. Seriously—I’ve pitched the idea in multiple friend groups, but it never left the group chat. Until last weekend.
Finally, after a lighthearted conversation about skiing and snowboarding last year, I created a group chat with those interested, and somehow, we made it happen. It was a bit chaotic, but everyone played a role, and with an organized group, planning became effortless. My kind of people, for sure.
This blog breaks down the trip—from rentals and accommodations to the actual day on the slopes, the food, and the overall experience, including the number of times I may or may not have wiped out.
Renting our gear the night before
For my husband and me, the trip started the night before. We found a rental company on Facebook Marketplace—a mother-son duo running a snowboard rental service out of their garage. And let me tell you, they were fully stocked: helmets, gloves, jackets, skis, snowboards, boots, the whole works. Even at 10:00 PM, people were pulling up to grab their gear for the weekend.
Not only were they significantly cheaper than renting at Blue Mountain, but they were also flexible. They had our boards and boots ready as soon as we arrived. But, of course, I swapped mine for a white, purple, and pink board that matched my outfit better (because yes, that matters, okay?).
With our equipment packed neatly in the folded-down backseat of my Honda Civic, we were ready for Saturday’s adventure.
The road trip and unexpected stops
Sleep was scarce that night, but by 7 AM, we were on the road, running on fumes and bad coffee. We stopped at Burger King and A&W for breakfast—my husband got a croissant sandwich combo, and I got an egg, bacon, and cheese sandwich on a burger bun (despite ordering an English muffin). The coffee? Questionable at best.
The drive was smooth—no snowfall, dry roads, and minimal traffic. The only hiccup? My husband forgot his gloves. So, we made a pit stop at Dollar Tree for some makeshift gloves. Not ideal, but they did the job.
Arriving at Blue Mountain
We pulled into the parking lot around 10:15 AM and immediately spotted my husband’s cousins changing into their gear outside their van. I had no idea this was a thing. The last time I was here, I rented from Blue Mountain and used their locker rooms. This time? We were changing in the parking lot like pros.
I threw on my new 50% off Helly Hansen snow pants (yes, they were XL, but cozy and I will get them altered), a white ski jacket from Amazon, ski goggles and a plush blue balaclava from Temu. Meanwhile, my husband had unknowingly borrowed purple snow pants from his brother, so we ended up unintentionally matching. Cute, right?
The first lift and my questionable snowboarding skills
After checking in at a self-serve kiosk and securing our RFID-scannable lift tickets, my husband’s cousin gave me a quick snowboarding lesson. I appreciated it—because, without those tips, I’d probably still be tumbling down the mountain.
I had made a bunny hill pact with my sister-in-law, planning to take it slow. But since she hadn’t arrived yet, I somehow ended up on a lift leading to an actual hill. And not just any hill—a green, blue, and black one.
During the ride up, I learned that unlike my last visit (where I mostly stayed on the bunny hill’s magic carpet), this lift was taking me somewhere much more intense. To make things worse, it kept stopping mid-air. At one point, after an agonizingly long pause, it jerked violently forward, and one of us actually screamed.
When we finally reached the top of Happy Valley (which a nearby mom hilariously called Crappy Valley), I strapped in and realized I had no idea how to stop. A guy overheard me and burst out laughing. Great.
The art of falling… repeatedly
Snowboarding is 10% skill, 90% falling. My descent was a chaotic mix of trial, error, and the occasional near-death experience. At one point, my board spun me backwards, and I landed flat on my back, seeing stars.
But my group? They were relentless. No breaks. No mercy. We went up and down that hill three times in the morning alone.
Eventually, I begged for a break, and we grabbed lunch at a local spot. My husband and I shared a poutine with our nephew, which he devoured with pure joy. You can never go wrong with poutine. But let’s be honest—nothing beats Patati Patata in Montreal.
Afternoon runs and an unexpected breakthrough
By the time my sister-in-law arrived, she looked traumatized. She had also been forced onto not-so-happy valley and was done for the day. I tried convincing her to go down one more time, but she opted to hang out with our nephew instead. Smart choice.
Somehow, though, my last two runs were different. I was still a heel warrior, but I felt more in control. I wasn’t just surviving—I was gliding. And in that moment, I got it. The thrill, the rush, the flying sensation that I love from figure skating—I felt it snowboarding.
Now, I have no choice but to register for snowboarding lessons this December. It’s official. It’s happening. Because after getting a black belt in taekwondo and learning jumps and spins in figure skating, it’s only natural that I throw myself into another high-intensity sport at an age where injuries hit way differently.
Cozy nights and forgotten cheese
After the slopes, we headed to our rental house for the night, where we made burgers for dinner—simple, easy, and perfect for feeding a group of ten. We even added eggs and turkey bacon. The only thing missing? The cheese and butter that I know I packed, but we couldn’t find. Of course, we discovered them the next morning—warm and sad in a forgotten plastic bag.
We also feasted on Costco chicken wings, Korean BBQ chips, and strawberry shortcake for a birthday celebration. The accommodations were nice enough, though we all agreed not to look too closely at the cleanliness. Let’s just say… some things were better left unnoticed.
The ride home and final thoughts
We left before noon the next day. I had grand visions of a big homemade breakfast for everyone, but exhaustion won.
This trip was short but sweet, and I would 1000% do it again—maybe for two nights next time. Or maybe we just plan a cozy winter sleepover at someone’s house instead. Either way, I’ve officially unlocked a new obsession, and you will catch me on the Blue Mountain or another resort’s slopes again. Just… hopefully with fewer falls next time.
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