Apr 18, 2026 6 min read

Back in the late 1980s, in my ski bum days, I had the opportunity to ski some of the coolest places in America: Keystone, Breckenridge, Copper Mountain, Arapahoe Basin, Vail, Winter Park, Wolf Creek, just to name a few. It was 130-plus days per season. Some of the best days included tree skiing in waist deep powder through the most gorgeous glades imaginable. Other days it was a 5 a.m. hike loaded down with ordinance, skis and provisions while accompanying ski patrol, assisting in setting off controlled avalanches in the name of skier safety.

The real reason for attaching ourselves to this entourage was uniquely selfish: A free ride to the top of the hill on the snow cat. A guided tour to a new place that we should have never been in the first place. Filling an open seat on the heli-ski copter. A few quick minutes of much needed instruction on skiing powder. A little tutelage in digging an avalanche pit that might, one day, save your life. It would not help Tommy Stewart, as it were. I would come to lose one of my closest friends in an avalanche on Buffalo Mountain in Dillon, Colorado, the year after I returned home from out west.

Hanging out with this ilk was inherently dangerous but fun. Skiers rock climbed and rappelled. Rock climbers ice climbed. Ice climbers tended to whitewater raft in the summers. And so on and so forth. It was adrenaline junky stuff at its finest and was difficult to just dip your toes in the water. For a guy who had zero interest in any chemical ventures I was all in, full submersion when it came to extreme outdoor sports. I tried every one that I could. I fancied myself a bicyclist of sorts for a while until the other avalanche victim, Skip Hyde, began drafting our vehicle, coming off the mountain at day’s end, riding a mere 12 inches off the back bumper of Tommy’s Land Cruiser at 60 mph. I gave up on extreme cycling that day. Just watching was too much for me.

I gave up on a lot of these activities upon returning home to the more settled life of a school teacher/coach/husband/eventual dad. That is until our friends Bill and Deb Lubich introduced my wife Kelly and me to the Banff Film Festival in Morgantown, W.Va. I have mentioned Bill in my columns. Bill was a high school biology teacher at Mapletown and was the kind of instructor that changed his students’ lives forever. Bill and Deb took students to the Florida Keys on Loggerhead turtle tagging projects with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife service. He took his field biology class hiking on the Laurel Highlands Hiking Trail each spring, which I was fortunate to tag along with, which was a fun culmination of time served in his indoor classroom. Notice the theme of tagging along?

He taught his kids to read a map and compass by instructing an orienteering class. The final exam was navigating their way across the Gamelands to a surprise smorgasbord cached in the woods. Bill was the kind of teacher we all wish we would have had. Sort of an extreme educator.

Bill and Deb took us to the Banff Film Festival when I was just beginning my teaching career and had started to come down from my adrenaline high. The film Festival is held in Banff, in Alberta, Canada, each year. Hundreds of films are submitted and the top entries are selected to go out on the road and be presented at mini festivals around the country. Our local forum is Morgantown. The theme is grounded in the outdoors. Most are “extreme” in one form or another. What they all have in common is that they are motivating, inspiring and most of all, totally engrossing.

The films are difficult to view because the cinematography is so fantastic that you’d swear you are hanging off an ice face when a piton lets go. A piton is the little screw thing that anchors the climber’s safety line into the rock or ice and keeps one from plummeting to their death.

Much like the rollercoaster films at the I-max theaters, these films grab a hold of the viewer and shake you to your senses. All of your senses. Sound is incredibly important. I would go as far as to say it is almost half the experience. Riding a mountain bike down a steep pitch at breakneck speed is frightening. When you realize that the film is about a guy or girl who literally broke their neck/back doing just this and are wheelchair bound it is striking. Then you find out that this same human being went on to ride an adaptive mountain bike down the exact same terrain, well, it is stand and cheer stuff. And viewers do indeed stand and cheer. When you gather in all that it took for these folks to build the adaptive riding park for cyclists with disabilities to enjoy, it brings whole new meaning to inspiring. The interviews are heartwrenching, the riding footage is terrifying, the friendships and partnering to accomplish such feats is the icing on the adrenaline cake. This is just one of the films.

This year’s short films numbered six. Film subject matter ranged from extreme powder skiing in Japan to handmade log beehive architecture in the UK. I mentioned adaptive mountain biking above and twin rock-climbing brothers working their way to the pinnacle of the sport were also included. Battling the elements was the focus of yet another flick and the final film of the evening was the adventure of a lifetime by a couple on Baffin Island in Canada who kiteski, kayak, ice climb, back country ski, and much more on a 69-day adventure. Documenting the activities is incredible in and of itself. Some of the films are only a couple of minutes in length. Others have a run time of 45 minutes or so.

The one commonality that all these films share is that they inspire. No matter where your interests lay you are sure to find some level of intrigue along this path. Forty years ago, I would have begun saving for a new length of climbing rope and an ice axe after experiencing Banff. These days, I’m afraid that many of these activities have simply passed me by because of age and infirmity. But I’m not too old to be impressed. If none of these elements strikes your fancy, then there’s always bluegrass music and micro brewery offerings. Maybe I’ll introduce extreme kayak smallmouth fishing on the Mon?

Just Google the Banff Centre Mountain Film Festival World Tour for more information. And mark your calendars for next spring.

Dave Bates writes a weekly outdoors column for the Observer-Reporter. He can be reached at alphaomegashootingsolutions@gmail.com