The Ski Bum Life Never Left: Insider Edition of Golden, BC
The first thing you notice as a visitor in Golden, BC, is how unassuming it all feels. The road in doesn’t announce itself. You arrive quietly and roll past train tracks and modest storefronts, falling into the rhythm of life. People go about their day, the coffee shops mostly busy with regulars rather than tourists. This is the kind of town that doesn’t pause for visitors—it embeds them into the ebbs and flows of daily life. It’s a place built around routine, local life and welcoming vibes. In winter, that routine revolves around skiing and snowboarding.
Golden’s humble mentality has deep roots. The traditional territories of the Ktunuxa and Secwépemc Peoples, it was an adventurous pursuit that brought the first explorers to Golden. In the 1880s, the initial settlement was formed and the town was named Golden.
Nate Briggs is a longtime local, long enough to remember Whitetooth Mountain, established initially in 1986, in its original form. “Growing up there as a kid, even Whitetooth in itself felt absolutely massive. It was kind of all you ever needed, terrain and snow-wise.”
What made it memorable, though, wasn’t just the skiing scene, but the intimacy of it. The kind that can’t be replicated once a place grows beyond a certain scale. “I really remember knowing everybody there,” Briggs recalls longingly, “to the point where people parked in the regular spot in the parking lot, people had their regular seats in the day lodge. You just knew—don’t sit there because it’s Sunday and for sure they’ll sit there on this day.”
Listening to Briggs reminisce about Golden in his childhood, it’s clear that it was a magical, living winter wonderland. And it wasn’t just a hill the town skied—it was actively held together by the town, through volunteer programs and initiatives when locals showed up to cut brush, move rocks, refinish the log shell of the lodge—anything to make the winter more magical. Put in enough time and you earned a discounted season’s pass. The real reward was the ownership—the mountain was shared by all.
Briggs’ father managed Whitetooth for a period of time, and the same sense of responsibility was embodied in his work. Briggs’ recalls the days when his father would run the road grader and sand truck through the night to keep access open, then nap for a while before the staff arrived. Other nights, he thawed frozen water lines underneath the lodge so Christmas Day could run like any other ski day. He put everything into making that place tick,” Briggs says. “It was his passion project.”
When Whitetooth transitioned into Kicking Horse in the late 1990s, the mood wasn’t resistance—it was anticipation. The town voted overwhelmingly in favour of the redevelopment, energized by the idea of the same snow and terrain, finally opened up by lifts that could do it justice. The excitement was real, and in many ways, justified. Golden gained world-class access to a mountain that locals already loved.
In three words, Briggs describes the old Whitetooth culture as fortunate, a hidden-gem and humble. But did those sentiments carry into the Kicking Horse initiative? Not exactly. Briggs still bristles at small changes, like run names moving away from local geography towards something more generic. Visitation has steadily increased since 2020. In 2024, Golden welcomed roughly 615,000 overnight visitors and another 420,000 day visitors. Yet, compared to Whistler (sees three million visitors annually) and Banff (sees four million visitors annually), Golden is still a less-crowded yet equally epic location for skiing.
Today, ski towns are in constant competition, measured by après density, winter vibes and how often they appear on everyone’s feeds. Competition hasn’t reshaped this town’s rhythm, though. It seems with growth, Golden still prioritizes quality over quantity. This year, Kicking Horse was named the best off-piste resort in North America by Snomad, a recognition that reflects how the mountain is actually used rather than how it’s marketed. From 2018 to 2025, Kicking Horse—and Golden as its host community—was the only North American stop on the Freeride World Tour, a distinction that placed the town briefly under an international spotlight without fundamentally changing its character. Even now, Freeride competitions remain a regular part of winter here, embedded into the season rather than staged as a spectacle.
As crowds grew, lines got longer, gear got flashier and ski chalets got fancier, the roots remain intact. In terms of snow, Briggs says, “in a low year, I think we’re better off than a lot of places.”
What hasn’t changed as much as outsiders might expect is the feel of the town itself. “For my seven-year-old… the magic is the same as when I was seven,” assures Briggs. “Sure, he’s riding a world class gondola to access his ski runs, and I wasn’t, but the activity is still the same, and I think at the root of it, if you look at it that way, then nothing has changed.”
Golden’s identity also remains stable through community efforts. Organizations like Kicking Horse Culture anchor the town’s arts scene, organizing year-round events that reflect the people who live here. In winter, Emberfest turns cold evenings into gatherings, blending fire, art and music in a way that creates a sense of togetherness. It’s another reminder that Golden’s culture isn’t built around selling an experience—it’s built around maintaining one and allowing everyone to be a part of it.
Golden has grown, but it hasn’t hardened or changed beyond its roots into something unrecognizable. Midweek, or on a weekend without perfect weather, it still settles into itself: local, friendly, welcoming. Service feels personal. Visitors get welcomed. The edges that once defined who was “local enough” have softened over time, replaced by a more generous understanding of what it means to belong—even briefly—in this small town with a population of a mere 3,700. You’ll still spot car campers tucked into snowy corners, says Briggs, a reminder that not everyone is here for luxury or comfort. Some people are here because it’s simply worth it.
