The Colorado winter began slowly, evoking a nervous vibe among the powder hounds. We’d seen this before though. We knew it would come but we just were not sure when. It was late December when the white fluff finally arrived, falling in copious amount; the San Juan’s were pummeled with snow totals into the nineties to hundreds of inches.

The destination was Monarch Snow Cat Tours, which are located right on Highway 50 just west of Salida Colorado. Monarch is located in the Sawatch Range just north and east of the San Juan’s. Being shaped like a catchers mitt, they too had been blessed with a 90+ inch base by mid January.

Pops, Jeff and I made our way to Monarch Mountain for a day of cat skiing. Little did we know it would end up being one of the best times as well as one of the strangest. Pops and I skied Monarch on Friday and Jeff made it up later that night. That afternoon a small little storm rolled over the Mountain and blessed us with a solid inch. I was thinking, perfect, just a little more soft stuff on top of a few feet of blower would make the backcountry just right.

After Pops and I finished skiing and enjoying a few Barley pops, we headed into Salida. We were directed to a Ski shop on F Street called Head Waters to get some bindings mounted where we met Ray, Avery and MacGyver. They took great care of us and we dropped them a few Cat and Heli guides and a six pack for their troubles. Avery sent us to Bentleys about a block a way from the shop for happy hour. What a great bar! Good appetizers, great beer prices, and good people! Once we had enough to drink we rumbled over to Laughing Ladies Restaurant where I had one of the best meals I can remember in a long time. The owners are originally from Napa and thank god they made it to Salida! Their signature dish is the Pork Chop. Which I hear is excellent. I however have been on a duck kick and went that route, while Pops went for the beef tri tip. The orange roasted half duck with sweet onion relish on crispy polenta is absolutely out of this world. Laughing Ladies was definitely the second best part of our trip, the first being the skiing of course.

The next day started with a six am wake up that I really didn’t want to be a part of, mostly due the libations. We all managed to rally as soon as we realized what was awaiting us in a few short hours. At Monarch skiers gather up at about eight o’clock in the lodge, meet their guides and the rest of the people on the cat for the day.

It appeared to be a pretty strong group. We head up the lift to meet the cat and head out of bounds for our adventure. It was a short ride to our first drop off point. Our first run was an open face with severe wind affected snow at the top of the ridge. Once we dropped in, the snow turned to a cream wind blown butter. We made a couple more warm up runs and headed to a different area of their terrain and started skiing some steeper trees. This is where we got the goods! There was great soft snow, excellent pitch and a few small rock drops to make everything a little more interesting. We ended up riding this area for quite some time and in my opinion skied it out. I felt bad for the people coming in tomorrow…well, not really. We eventually made our way over to the large open bowl just slightly above tree line. The cornice was pretty large but there were many easy entrance with little drop. We skied it one at a time for avalanche safety. This is a common practice in Cat and Heli adventures in the States. We dropped into a nice little chute that happened to be holding some nice buttery turns. Jeff on the other hand decided to go a bit bigger. We didn’t see the fall but did watch from 1200 feet below as he worked back up to his ski that he had left about fifty feet above him. We made our break for lunch around 1pm and headed back to the lodge where they had grub waiting. The group enjoyed a lunch of Brisket, fresh rolls and some of the hottest green chili this gringo has ever tasted. The Brisket isn’t going to win any awards, but to a hungry group of skiers it was gone in minutes. Once we all finished up with lunch it was back to the lift to meet the cat at the top of the mountain. We ended up heading back to the steep trees. No one was complaining about it since they were the longest and best runs of the day so far. It was about knee deep in there with a 35-40 degree pitch, which made for some great skiing and riding. As the day started to draw to a close our last few runs were on the out of bounds side of the Mirkwood bowl area. The snow was the deepest here and softest but the runs were short, three to five hundred vertical feet, however for any powder hound like myself it really didn’t matter. Fresh deep tracks are fresh deep tracks!

By the time we all got back down to the resort lodge the ski area had closed and most of the people had left the parking lot. So the three of us headed to the bar there and hung out with a few locals, bought our guide a beer, and shot the breeze for a bit before heading back to the “Shining,” other wise known as the Monarch Lodge.

Recommendations: If you were headed to Monarch for a day or longer, I’d stay in Salida. I’d visit Laughing Ladies, and Bentleys for drinks and food, plus I’d talk to the locals to get any more info on where to eat or drink. Since I didn’t have a lot of time to check out every restaurant and bar in town I can only tell you what I know. The locals in Salida are very helpful and some of the friendliest people I’ve ever met in a ski town, and that’s pretty hard to do. The Arkansas river also passes right through here so there is also some great rafting and river kayaking available. Check out Head Waters next to the bridge on F street to get all your river and white water information and rentals. It’s also a great ski shop. If you’re staying over night, pass on the Monarch Lodge located about three miles from the resort. Stay in Salida. Find something there like a B&B or a smaller well known motel.

Words by Tim Engel

If you are willing to attempt the expensive end of the snow sports market, then helicopter access from Russia is a great, reasonably priced option. I travelled independently to the village of Dombai, nestled in the southern Caucasus, close to the Georgian boarder, with my Russian friend and photographer Denis.

For this trip we planned to take on the mountains of the Caucasus Range in an enormous ex-military Russian army helicopter, the 30 person Mi8.

We paid cash for a 3 day heliboarding package at the very helpful and organised adventure tour specialists ‘AlpIndustria’ (www.helikaukas.com) located at their large and well stocked Moscow outdoor equipment shop the day before we flew to Dombai.

Russia

Heading to Russia with an open mind, easy going persona and a sense of humour will help you to fully appreciate all that the experience has to offer. I lived there for a year back in the 90’s and had knowledge of the place, its unique systems and friendly people. Things can, and do go wrong and the unexpected is never far away but that’s part of the appeal.

Moscow

The gateway city to Eastern Russia is Moscow. It is a sprawling metropolis with over 12 million inhabitants. It has something to offer for everyone and is worth at least a couple of days on either side of the trip to the south.

Moscow has grand architecture, amazing metro stations, huge boulevards, numerous theatres and great nightlife. There are many famous and interesting landmarks that should not be missed including the imposing Red Square, the fairy tail onion domes of St Basils Cathedral, Lenin’s tomb, the many churches and museums of the Kremlin.

Accommodation can be expensive, so it is recommended to search out hotels located away from the central tourist areas. Taxis are reasonable and the metro system is an extremely good value that covers most of the city. The English newspaper, The Moscow Times, gives up to date reviews and listings of bars and restaurants.

The journey to Mineralnie Vody (Mineral Water)

It’s a comfortable two and half hour flight south from Moscow on Aeroflots majestically designed Tuplev 154M aeroplane to Mineralnie Vody’s basic airport.

Overland from Mineralnie Vody to Dombai

Taxis can be booked before you exit the arrivals hall for pre-arranged fares. They are slightly more expensive than outside but its well worth it. The journey to Dombai is 4 to 5 hours and takes in some eye opening vistas, both of the countryside, towns and villages and their inhabitants.

Once in the taxi you have to keep your fingers firmly crossed (as any suppositious Russian would) that the Malitia (police) don’t stop you at the many check points along the way. It’s a sensitive area with it being close to the Chechnya area and the country of Georgia.

Our old taxi van was randomly selected before we had even left the airport arrivals car park but we had all the correct documents. Be prepared to make a rouble donation for having the ‘wrong’ papers. This being the quickest and most effective way to ease a situation and stop you from going to prison! At strategic points, further checks of either the vehicle/driver documents or personnel and their belongings were made.

Dombai

We eventually arrived into Dombai in daylight and were greeted by the spectacular snow covered mountains and historic charm of the village. Old Soviet era style hotels and apartment blocks jostled for position with their brasher, newer neighbours. Market traders, tanned and wrinkled, poured onto the small streets, displaying their colourful local wares.

The mountain village resort is located directly below the main Caucasus Ridge at a height of 1500 metres, with surrounding jagged peaks reaching up to 4000 metres. A new state of the art gondola could be seen rising to the Dombai mountain resort above. The older, cheaper, large red cable car lift was a working backdrop.

The driver dropped us off at our rustic apartment block that we had pre-booked in Moscow. The apartment’s look was straight from a 1970’s Russia spy film. The furniture was all dark wood, and none of the wall or floor coverings matched. An old portable TV sat on the centre piece dresser unit that separated the lounge (complete with pull out bed) from the double bed. The apartment had bags of character, good heating, hot and cold running water, countless small kiosks and restaurants in the immediate vicinity and a great view of the resort above.

Dombai Resort

During the first few days we utilised the various ageing lifts of the resort. Although the high specification, 6-seater gondola had been recently commissioned many locals continued to use the cheaper, less frequent Soviet one. We joined them and rode up to the lower resort base area with the more cost conscious Russian tourists. From here it’s a ‘pay as you go system’ on the colourful, but rickety, constant speed lifts. Snowboards and skis are carried on your lap on the chair lift up to the main resort area at 2600 metres.

The main resort area is randomly laid out and consists of restaurants, market stalls, cafes and animals! Get your photo taken on a real Bactrian camel, beside a tethered bear or try on an old local warriors’ costume of fur skin robes. We chose to take the last lift to the top for the fresh powder that had fallen the previous night. We rode 35-40 cm of untracked powder with large grins. We had a great few days, mainly using only the top two lifts to access the resort terrain. The resort runs are not very steep, but with few turns, a quiet mountain, good base depth and lots of fresh powder to access, they are enjoyable and a perfect way to get your legs warmed up for the helicopter. At times rocks could be an issue but care was taken and the speed reduced for any sketchy areas. A friendly ‘engraver’ operator, (piste bashers to the Europeans or snow cats to our friends across the pond) even let us ride back up the mountain in the rear of his vehicle whilst we clung on tight to the cab. Other entrepreneurial engravers had moved it one step further and had the rear area converted with wooden battens and metal handrails to accept paying customers on some easy to access powder located close by.

As the heliboarding trip came closer the excitement grew. If we were having this much fun in the resort then what was is going to be like in the backcountry! We had all the crucial elements that make up a perfect trip. Two days before we were due to fly one of those elements disappeared, the most important, the helicopter. The official reason was that the helicopter had to go for essential maintenance. Of the many conspiracy theories discussed, some of war or KGB intervention, the more probable was of the government implementing a no-fly zone. Whatever the reasons, maintenance or otherwise, the decision was final we were not going into the air. We had travelled a long way to go heliboarding and were extremely disappointed, but both  agreed that this sort of thing goes with the territory of riding in the former USSR. You have to be able to take it on the chin and think positive. The ski and snowboard guides from AlpIndustria travel agency said that it was quite unheard of for the helicopter to be grounded and were very apologetic. They offered us the opportunity to access the backcountry area that surrounded the resort as part of their guides program.

The Backcountry Experience

We met the guides at 10am each morning at a café located at the main resort area of 2600 metres. Our experienced guides, Sergey Fursov, Aleksey Orlov and Andrey Zheleznov were careful and considered all risks. Everyone was provided with avalanche transceivers and all were checked prior to leaving the café. Once we had exited the top lift we hiked into the surrounding backcountry and checked out the lines available. The conditions were amazing, with the mix of snow falling overnight, and blue sky in the morning. The backcountry area we rode the most had a very steep top section and eased out over the length of the run, with random large rocks dotted about for the more adventurous. Each rider went down alone so every run was on an empty mountain. No one could steal the powder and there was plenty of space to choose your own clean lines.  Tight turns or laid back cruising, carving swallow tails or straight fast lines. The conditions were a dream. Although my Russian is fairly rudimentary I could tell all the guests were having a ball too. A few had a basic knowledge of the English language and would try to converse with me. I was treated very well and became quite a minor celebrity with my Russian language skills, even being given the VIP treatment of riding second, after the guide. I followed his leading tracks over large rocks into soft, untouched snow. The guides, Sergey and Andrey were excellent skiers, and Aleksey had been crowned the 2005 Russian Extreme Snowboard Champion. It was a real pleasure riding with good skiers and boarders who pushed you all the way.

As the gradient eased off into the various long run outs down to the road, the environment was just as interesting and impressive. Depending on the route it was either large snow laden gullies filled with very deep powder and small, well spaced trees or the more difficult sections negotiating a number of natural hazards. There were more than a few scary moments riding along and occasionally in frozen rivers, through unbelievable tight trees and beside dangerous cliff drops. Many guests who had easily rode the steeps and deep found the lower section very difficult, where a more technical approach was required. On one run out we were greeted by a traditionally dressed local, farmer complete with a golden set of teeth and his old, three legged dog.  He was excited to meet us and we were invited to his nearby high alpine farm to taste the sour yoghurt type drink he produced. We then accessed the infamous Klukhor Pass, a road used to link Russia with Georgia during the second world war. The constant gradient and ample snow cover allowed us to ride along it. Steep cliffs opening up to a snow covered meadow on one side and gushing streams to the other. We rode down watching out for the road signs indicating tight bends or speed limits, and popping jumps over any exposed mud sections. It was a fun end to another great day, and one of the many highlights of the trip. Unique and steeped in history, I doubt that the resorts of Western Europe or North America could provide such simple pleasures.

Each day the groups varied from 5 to 20 guests, but even with the full complement there was still plenty of terrain and powder to play in so no one left disappointed.

It was only possible to do one, very testing run a day but it was enough. I can honestly say that the cancellation of the helicopter was soon forgotten as we rode the empty and beautiful backcountry. Don’t get me wrong, the amount of vertical a helicopter can cover in a day is immense but this was different and very peaceful. With fresh powder every day, sunshine, blue sky and temperature just above freezing, it was difficult not to enjoy it. The impressive scenery made good photo opportunities very easy.

All runs ended on the main road back to Dombai. Cheap taxis or minivans arrived promptly to take us the 7km back to the village. Approximately 1600 metres of vertical, and 5-8 km of distance had been completed.

Evenings out, friendships and the future

There are bars and a nightclub in Dombai village but evenings were generally a quiet affair based in the apartment, or at the many restaurants and cafes. The food was good quality and the beer flowed. We made a lot of Russian friends on the backcountry trips and would meet to review our photographs on the laptop over dinner, and re-live the day’s events.

We didn’t meet any one from a nation who’s first language was English at all and it wasn’t until the last day of the trip that we met a crazy bunch of Norwegian snowboarders in their early twenties who were travelling totally independent. A very funny, interesting and pioneering crew who we only managed to share a beer with for one night.

There wasn’t much to spend your money on apart from the markets stalls and the food kiosks. I bought a selection of locally produced, and branded woollen beanies for gifts, a bargain at only R100 (£2/$4) and bottles of the excellent Dagestan Cognac.

There are no ski or snowboarding shops in Dombai. A few places have rental equipment but it is generally old and there is limited availability. The friendly husband and wife team located next to the top lift queue (2600 metres) sometimes have used equipment for sale and do all sorts of repairs, specialising in base damage from rocks! They are very reasonable and it is a good idea to get your equipment serviced before leaving.

Russia and Dombai in general, are a daunting prospect indeed, but take the time and try their lines. You won’t be disappointed. It’s different and challenging but the rewards are plentiful. Be prepared to meet lots of interesting individuals and experience bizarre situations. Take in the wonderful panoramas and ride the fresh powder that the area has to offer. We are going back to get the lines that the helicopter can access and have every faith that this time we will get airborne!

Top tips

• Package tours are highly recommended for first time visitors to Russia (try market leaders for the Dombai area, AlpIndustria www.helikaukas.com). Various packages can be tailored to suit your wallet and timescale, or take the plunge and come with us. See our website www.heliboarding.narod.ru for more information.
• Russian visitor visas and registration support letters/documentations are essential (Check current legislation regarding visas as it can, and does change due to the delicate political situation in the area). (www.realrussia.co.uk come highly recommended. Telephone +44 (0) 207 100 7370)
• Get an insurance policy that covers you for heliboarding and Russia (try www.worldwideinsure.com first for a competitive quote).

Words by Chris Horner, Middlesbrough, England, UK
Photos by Denis Romanov

This story was originally published in The Untracked Guide To Backcountry Skiing & Snowboarding and is reprinted with permission.

Brandon is not a happy man. He’s physically exhausted and is having difficulty breathing. He is verbally abusing the mountain, claiming the situation to be “ridiculous” among other, less flattering terms.

I’m not faring much better. I’ve just lost my footing and am flying down a steep slope at alarming speed, clinging to my snowboard with my left hand and desperately trying to halt my descent with my right. It’s times like this that I wonder why I chose a snowboard over skis. Our Japanese friends, (who are all of the two plank discipline), have made short work of the steep traverse and are now sitting in sun, patiently waiting for the two snowboarding foreigners to play catch up.

We’re 2500m up into Japanese airspace on Hakusan, an extinct volcano. Situated on the main island of Honshu, the mountain spans the prefectures of Fukui, Ishikawa and Gifu, and is one of the nihon sanmeizan; Japan’s three most sacred mountains. As a result, many people come to the mountain each year on a Shinto pilgrimage, though most come to pray to the spirit of the mountain, rather than the spirit of the snow.

It’s been a long, tiring hike, and we’re not there yet. We started early this morning, crossing a suspension bridge and hiking up a stream bed before hitting a narrow rocky path that wound its way up through wooded slopes. The hot spring sun beats down on us, and the snowboard, water, food and clothes we carry on our backs is a heavy burden in the May heat.

After about an hour and a half, we reach the first patches of intermittent snow. We stop here for a welcome rest, my legs feeling the exertion. I gulp down some liquids and nibble on strips of breaded horse kastu. We exchange greetings with another group of climbers who pass as we sit in the shade of dwarfed paper birch trees.

“Tabete kudasai!, please eat!”, shouts Yasu, our guide, as he cooks up a local delicacy called “ton chan”, the intestines of a cow, on his camp stove. It’s not exactly gourmet, but the chewy tissue goes down well after burning so many calories on the way up.

Upon reaching the snowline, the difficulty of the hike increases. The spring snow is so compact, that we left our snow shoes behind. Instead, I have opted to climb in my trusty old Merrels rather than my snowboarding boots. They may be lighter, but they have considerably less grip, and see me taking many a tumble in the snow.

Brandon too, experiences similar problems, especially during some of the steepest sections where he takes two steps forward, only to slide one step back. However, little by little, after several breaks and around four hours, we make vertical progress, eventually stopping at the top of a steep chute for lunch.

At this point, we can see the peak, perhaps just 30 minutes away. Sitting in the sun, we each drink a can of Kirin the local brew, to celebrate our progress whilst we relax, chat and take in the stunning views below. My stumbling Japanese makes communication basic, but the American Brandon speaks the language well and bridges the gaps when sign language and intuition fail.

From where we sit, we can see a shrine and a tori (traditional Japanese gate). Brandon and I discus the idea of building a ramp up to it and performing a few tricks over it to impress our Japanese friends, but the idea is quickly dismissed as a waste of precious energy.

After lunch comes the final assault; a quick blitz to take us to the top. Re-energised by cow intestines and horse meat, and slightly light headed from the beer and altitude, summit fever has set in. My pace picks up as I follow in the footsteps of Yasu, while he powers ahead to the peak.

Yasu, who is 47 years of age, a smoker and self confessed alcoholic, has put us young, ‘healthy’ whipper-snappers to shame. A local legend in these parts, he has conquered several Himalayan peaks in China, Nepal and Pakistan. His bar, Yumeya, (meaning “dream shop”) in Ono, Fukui, has become a hang out for local climbers, skiers and snowboarders who come to sample the fine nihonshu (rice wine) and feast on his famous home-smoked cheese. Ice picks, snow shoes and many pictures of sabre tooth peaks adorn the walls; souvenirs from past expeditions.

There is much rejoicing at having reached the top. Brandon in particular is especially happy, and in true American fashion lets rip with a series of “Whoops!” and “Hell Yeahs!”. Little does he know what’s in store for him on the way down.

We pause for a short while to take in the views of the valley, before swapping shoes for boards, donning gloves and beginning the descent. The first slope is pure joy; we cruise down the perfect pitch in the sunshine-sugar-snow, feasting on spectacular scenery and carving clean white lines into the surface of the speckled, dirt ridden snow.

Yasu is leading the pack and going at quite a speed when he experiences some technical difficulties which deposit him heavily onto the ground, leaving a ski and his poles strewn out in his wake. After confirming that he is not seriously injured, we all have a good laugh, and continue onwards, with Yasu exercising a little more speed control from then on.

We soon reach a snow-less rocky outcrop that forces us to unstrap our boards and walk. This brings us to the top of the next slope which is steep and littered with rock debris. We carefully make our way down this pitch, but are then faced with a long and challenging traverse to get to the next slope.

It’s times like this that I’m reminded of how impractical snowboards are. Whilst Brandon and I are continually unstraping our boards, scrambling up, slipping down, and generally struggling to make our way across this steep and awkward section, the skiers are far ahead, engaging the terrain with ease.

It is at this point that Brandon decides he wants out. Physically exhausted, and having difficulty breathing, he is, to put it mildly, very unhappy. However, we both know that the only way down, is across, so we continue the slow traverse, praying we won’t take another fall, whilst our Japanese skiing friends wait patiently in the sun, and most probably have a good chuckle at our predicament.

Eventually, we make it over to where they sat, but by this time Brandon is past the point of no return, and all traces of his love for snow have long since evaporated.

“I want a chopper” he gasps, and I believe he’s serious, but we’re on our own, and he knows the air support will never come.

Next is the final straight, back down to whence we came. Our Japanese friends fly down, popping 360 spins at every available opportunity. I attempt to follow suit, but end up misjudging and having a close encounter of the first kind with a tree.

The very last stretch is a battle through the forest. As the trunks close in around us, tight technical boarding is required to navigate through the birch and pine. Somewhere along the way we manage to pick up an out of control telemark skier, who provides us with much entertainment as he appears not to have learnt how to stop, thus has a series of quite spectacular collisions with trees, rocks and other people.

By this time Brandon has given in to the mighty mountain, and has fully accepted defeat. He removes his board and makes the remainder of his way down on foot. It could be said with quite some certainty, that at this point in time, the young American is not a “happy chappy”.

Eventually the trees become too dense to ride through, so boards and skis go back onto packs, and out come the hiking poles. Yasu, says his goodbyes and races off down the mountain; he must get back home to open his bar. This leaves the rest of us to make our way back at a more leisurely pace.

That final hike is the hardest of all. Exhausted from our long ascent, tricky traverses, burdened with heavy gear, and in dire need of decent rest, we still have a good 1.5 hour walk to get back to base. With aching legs and shoulders, sore feet, and bodies in need of some serious tlc, we endure on. As we near our starting point, Brandon’s sprits rise again, and by the time we reach the cars, he is back to his normal jovial self, and we are already joking about how he had “lost it up there”.

From top to bottom, it has taken us nine and a half hours, left us thoroughly exhausted, and good for nothing but bed. We’ve paid our pilgrimage price to the mighty Hakusan in the form of kilojoules, sweat, and American tears. Today was more about the hiking, scenery, and camaraderie than the snowboarding, but despite our fatigue, it’s been an incredible experience and a great work out.

It appears that Yasu also had a good time. As I near my car, I notice something stuck under the wiper, flapping in the gentle breeze. On a scrap of paper, is a hastily written message from our local legend. In scrawled Japanese katakana script it reads:

“Za Dogs Danga Raz!”.

A broad smile instantly spreads across my face. It means “The Dogs Danglers!”; British Slang for “Awesome!”.

It seems all those nights spent “internationalising” at Yasu’s bar over cups of sake, are finally beginning to rub off on the locals.

Words and Pictures by Sam Baldwin of SnowSphere Magazine. Sam Baldwin is the editor of www.SnowSphere.com – an online magazine blending snow sports with travel, publishing stories about the more mysterious peaks of the planet, from India to Iceland.
This story was originally published in The Untracked Guide To Backcountry Skiing & Snowboarding and is reprinted with permission.

Words and Photos by Brian VanDenBrand

The white peaks of Rainier and St. Helens rose through the clouds as our flight neared Seattle. It was late December of ’06, and a few hours earlier myself, Señor Wanrooy, and his wife Kathy had taken off from dreary Michigan in search of some snow. We would be skiing with Trevor Holsworth, lead wrangler at the Wildhorse Cat Skiing & Powder Mining Company in Ymir, British Columbia.

About the operation area – Wildhorse holds the rights to enough territory that even if not a flake of fresh drops for three weeks, everyone will still be skiing untracked lines. Impressive. The mountains in inland British Columbia are beautiful and heavily forested, with a few bare peaks jutting up above the tree line. The trees are absolutely perfectly spaced, giving you the confidence to rip down the descent knowing that you’re not going to get jammed up.

The operation area offers an interesting mix of steeps and glades, with the occasional cliff thrown in to keep you on your toes. The snow on this late December day was light, dry, deep, and sparkling in the sunlight. As we climbed into the snowcat and began our first ascent of the day, our excitement was building. After 10 minutes of enjoying the view through the window of the cat, we had reached the starting point of our first run.

We stepped into our skis and moved away from the cat to get our first view downhill. The sight that greeted us was perfect: a pure, unbroken blanket of white, interspersed by tall, skinny pines laden with snow, all under the gorgeous sky of a bluebird day. The typical run starts off with the guide explaining what the descent will encompass, what to watch out for, rendezvous points, and so on. After that, he lays down a set of fresh tracks (tough job) for the rest of the group to roughly follow. Once down, it’s usually just a short wait until the snowcat arrives, time easily passed by recapping the last run. Bill and I skied with Wildhorse for two days and hit north aspects, south aspects, steep trees, shallower glades, exposed faces, longer runs, shorter runs, cliffed runs that required a bit of caution, and everything in between. The snow couldn’t have been better, and I never felt the sudden jolt of frozen ground or hard packed snow beneath my skis. It was just pure powder, and some of the most enjoyable skiing I’ve ever done. I rarely crossed another ski’s track. There were many moments of excitement at the top of a new run when everyone was stomping into bindings and scoping out a line, just itching to feel the float of powder skiing again. The guides are open to requests, and will lead a bootpack if the group spies a peak that the snowcat just can’t reach. They truly want you to have as much fun as they can provide. A bagged lunch was provided, and much appreciated, each day on the cat. The nice thing about snowcat skiing is that the ride up gives you a chance to rest your legs for 10 or 15 minutes on the way up – a luxury you don’t have when heliskiing.

An added bonus to skiing at Wildhorse is the presence of Red Mountain Resort, about an hour’s drive away in Rossland, BC.  It makes for a great getaway to spend a couple of days catskiing with Trevor, and then head to Red for 3000 feet of lift-accessed vertical. The base of the mountain was buried in clouds when we arrived. As the chair began to climb, the sky grew lighter, and soon we came out on top of the clouds and were treated with a gorgeous view of sunlit mountain tops rising above the cloud cover. Red is a lot of fun, and if caught on a powder day, you might have one of the best resort days you’ve ever experienced. It’s also easy to see where it gets its name – the colors the early morning sun bounces off the clouds and snow are breathtaking. Bring your touring bindings and skins and keep an eye peeled for locals ducking off the side of the trail. Besides firing up a doober, they’re probably leading the way to the great backcountry skiing to be had if you’re willing to work a bit for it.

Everyone should experience what Wildhorse has to offer. The skiing is fantastic, and the nights are full of sharing beers and stories with friendly locals. The Palace offers gracious hosts, good food, and most importantly after a long day of skiing, the hot tub. For those flexible with travel dates, keep an eye out for the last-minute specials that Wildhorse offers if the cat is not completely filled, because you can save a lot of money.

Words & Photos by Bill Wanrooy

After lunch, we skied almost all the way to the valley floor where we were picked up and brought to another peak.  Here we found deep snow and wide open terrain.  We were able to rip down this run, with everyone smiling from cheek to cheek.  At the bottom of the run I asked Woody if he had ever been to the peak next to us, which was a thing of beauty.  He said no, but that he had it in mind too.  Our next ride in the heli took us there as our last hurrah to cap off the day.  After a smooth landing on a steep ridge, we were on the most amazing terrain of the day.  It was everything you could ever dream of in a heli trip: steep, deep, and long enough to make your legs feel like they were blazing.

When we arrived back at the heli pad, there were cold beers waiting for us as we concluded one of the best days of skiing anyone could hope for.  There were many comments among the group in regards to this being the best day of skiing/boarding in a lifetime.

Alpine Heli-Ski is an extremely professional organization which has become one of Queenstown’s premier operators in just its second year in business.  This is due to the extreme competency of their staff.  The guides have decades of local and international experience between them – not just in heli-ski guiding, but in all aspects of alpine mountaineering. All guides are certified to NZ industry standards; however they have even tighter requirements than the NZ industry code. All senior guides are level 2 avalanche certified; this is the highest avalanche certification available in NZ and is only achieved after many years of field training and study. The Guiding Director position is held by a NZMGA fully certified ski guide. This qualification is the highest Heliski/board guide qualification available in NZ.

For those looking for the most intimate experience, Private Charter allows you to board at your own pace. For expert skiers/riders this means heading into the steep & deep or for more intermediate skiers/riders you can be set down on smooth easy angled powder bowls where you can ski as much or as little as you like.  It is possible to ski between 10 and 14 runs, and if your energy is still high after that, then extra helicopter time is available to enable you to ski/ride up to 20 of the longest runs your legs are ever likely to feel.