On January 21st, I had an appointment with Dr. Elfenbein, an orthopedic surgeon in Crested Butte who has graciously allowed me to do my follow up post-trauma care with since my the surgeons who worked on my femur and my spine were both out of network for my insurance. All has been well with the femur for quite some time. But the neck is the crux, and the x-rays showed that it was fusing well.

At the end of the appointment, the doctor sat me down and said, “Let’s talk about skiing.” In my head I said, “I thought you’d never ask!” But, I refrained.

He asked, “Do you even want to ski this year?” I nodded my head in silent response, but inside I was screaming, “Oh hell yeah!” Then he asked, “Do you have a seasons pass?” I nodded my head again and mumbled something about buying it before the accident and just keeping it because I thought I’d be skiing in spring for sure, and could go to Breckenridge at the end of the season at the very least. Then he said, “I think you should get out and ski. I think it will help you mentally.” Yep, this doc knows me, or at least knows my type. Of course, there was the whole spiel about starting out slow, on groomers only, etc. But, I already knew this. It’s not like I haven’t been through 3 ACL surgeries before.

So, what did I do? Well, the next day I went skiing.

To be honest, I was sick. I had a cold that knocked me out that week. I wanted to curl up in bed for days, but I had to work, I had to keep going on my physical therapy, I had my appointment with Dr. Elfenbien, and I definitely had to ski. I wasn’t going to let this cold rob me of my first day back on skis, despite the fact that when the alarm when off early in the morning, I wanted to throw it out the window.

The day couldn’t have been more beautiful. Clouds that had left a couple of inches of fresh snow overnight still lingered low in the sky, yet the sun shone through them, creating a magical scene. The morning was crisp. I headed out my door with Frank and skied over to the West Wall chair. I only had an hour to ski, and I didn’t want to go far in case things went awry. So, I would lap the West Wall chair for as many times as an hour would allow.

And the first turns were certainly momentous. The “Texas Pow” (a couple of inches on top of freshly groomed) was inspiring. And I gained confidence with every turn.

The leg – well I thought I would feel that rod in my femur while skiing, but I didn’t feel it much. Not anymore than I feel it while hiking or cross-country skiing. The neck was a different story. Skiing didn’t hurt it. But my neck felt…. unstable. Throughout my recovery, I have basically experienced various stages of what I call “Bobblehead Syndrome”. In other words, I’m like a baby whose learning to hold her head up. First it was hard to hold it up in the brace. When the brace was removed, it was hard to hold it up while walking. Then, it was hard to hold it up while walking when I was tired, which I experienced during the first couple of months that I started hiking again. And now, I realized that it was hard to hold my head up while skiing. The extra g-forces and helmet were putting more strain on those stabilizing muscles, which are still weaker than normal.

I mean, it’s not like my head just falls down or something. But, when I go over a bump, it sort of… bobbles. I don’t have full control over it. It ‘s just a little unstable. I am doing all kinds of jumps and plyometrics in the gym and my head does not bobble. So, really, the only way to get it stronger for skiing is to just keep skiing. But, until I overcome “Bobblehead Syndrome”, I’ll be sticking to the groomers.

But, I’m quick to admit – I don’t think groomers ever felt so good. With every turn I make and every day I ski, I realize how lucky I am. I am lucky to be able to talk, to walk, and especially to ski. And skiing just over 6 months after such a major life-changing accident is more than anyone could ask for. It is the definition of Unlucky Lucky. But, I worked for it. I earned it. I remained dedicated to my recovery for 6+ months, and now I can reap the rewards.

And my recovery is far from over. I still go to physical therapy, occupational therapy, and massage therapy. I still spend hours doing physical therapy exercises at home and at the gym. Before I go to bed, I have a stretching & mobility routine for my neck/back and whole body, which also involves some meditation. This routine lasts 45 minutes to an hour every night. You’d think that, after six months, the time I dedicate to healing should have waned. But, I have found it quite the opposite. I spend 5 hours on average per day dedicated to my healing. Healing is my job.

After a handful of days building my confidence on groomers, I finally felt assured that skinning would be fine. So, I woke up early and headed out to the resort long before the lifts began spinning with skins on the bottom of my skis. The crisp morning air, the crunch of the corduroy, the flip of the touring binding… It all felt good. Life is starting to be normal again. And I can’t wait until I finally feel confident enough to venture into the steeps and the backcountry. But, I also know I need to not rush those things before I am ready. So, I remain focused on getting stronger and better, and ready for more challenges. Because, apparently, I need more challenges in my life

The post Unlucky Lucky: Skiing Again! appeared first on 14erskiers.com.

Since the inception of CB3P, I’ve always thought to myself, “I should really do that race someday.” But, it always happens at a time when I’d rather just be backckountry skiing. And, I was also pretty terrified of the “paddle” portion as I have little river experience. But, after I was finally assured that the river section was indeed not too hard, especially if using a duckie, I decided that this year was the year I needed to do it. I even put it in writing, stating I wanted to do it on my 2019 Bucket List. See, that’s the thing. Sometimes just putting a goal in writing makes me want to achieve it even more.

So, there I found myself at the CB3P pre-race meeting at the Brick Oven on Saturday April 27th, with a crowd of people huddled around Tiffany Simpson, the race coordinator. Imagine putting together a race that involves skiing at the ski area, biking on a public road, and boating down a public river – the permits and red tape involved in all of this must be horrific. But, she’s got it down to a tee. She informed us of the rules and about some small course changes.

But she saved the warning that was to be most heeded for last. “The Gunnison River is running at the highest CFS that we’ve ever had in this race before…. Be careful. No one will be stationed to help you until the whitewater park.” And she continued, “The feature in the whitewater park is especially tricky right now. People are going to swim (laughing). I’ve sent scouts down and they tell me that you have to paddle extra hard to get through it. Now, if you swim, we’ll have people there to help. Listen to what they say.” And then I found myself wondering if doing this race was a good idea. I had been assured that the river portion was easy. But, this did not sound easy. I went to bed anxious, dreaming of whitewater. I hoped that my years of growing up sailing and swimming, and my overall intuition about water, would just get me through this segment.

In the morning, my heart dropped as I took my first gaze out the window. A rain/snow mix was falling from the sky and temperatures were hovering at 36. Skiing in that weather would be more or less okay. But, biking or boating in it sounded like sheer misery. I packed a few more extra clothes and gloves in my transition bags and dressed for the ski segment with an extra layer. I was still fighting a terrible cold, and needed to make sure to stay warm.

I was expecting more people to stay home. Yet, I found myself amazed at all the people who gathered around the starting line of the CB3P in this horrible weather, many even in costume – Crested Buttians don’t need much reason to wear a costume. Oh yeah, that’s right, I’d almost forgot – We mountain people can be downright hard core. And here I was surrounded by the hardest most core of them all.

We placed our skis on the snow and gathered back on the pavement for the Le Mans start.

I mustered a smile. Yes, I was about to skin and ski in a bike helmet. But, a helmet was required on all three sections of the race. Saving time at transitions was key. So, I, along with most other solo racers, decided to start and finish with my bike helmet, eliminating the need to change headgear.

The buzzer sounded at 10 am sharp and we were off.

And the skinning commenced. People passed me on the skin. For all the backcountry skiing I do, I am not a fast skinner. I can just go forever without stopping. I was hoping some of this would work out for me in the end. I held my own, though I certainly got passed. But, I was far from last, and for that I was thankful.

The event photographer snapped this shot of me a good chunk of the way up.

And not much later, I saw her – Stevie Kremer. I call her the fastest woman on earth – because she pretty much is. There she was, pushing and pulling and skiing her way down the slope as fast as she could, ahead of all the boys and everyone else, very much in first place.

And then the down train kept coming, but I was still going up. We skinned until the patrol shack just below High Lift. There, I pulled my skins and threw my jacket on. The “down” is supposed to be the easy part of the race. But the new wet snow made it otherwise. The surface was sticky, wanting to rip my legs apart, and made it difficult to glide when it should have been easy.

When I arrived at the base of the ski area, I was relieved. Even though it was pouring rain, I was looking more forward to biking in that crap weather than skiing in all that slop. I barely changed clothes. I was mostly warm and mostly dry. A change of socks, a shirt, and gloves and I was on my way for the biking section.

As they say, the bike to Gunnison is “downhill”. Well, yeah, true. But, you get your share of winds which make it not-so-downhill. But, I was feeling strong, which surprised me since I had only ridden my bike twice since November. And the 36-degree rain was making me cold. So, I pedaled hard, trying to stay warm, and passed at least 5 riders – none of whom I could even see when I first started out on my bike. My lower back started to ache, so I got up out of the saddle, and pedaled even harder. It wasn’t going to go away until I was done riding. So, I might as well just ride faster.

Frank waved as he passed me on the road in the car. He was moving ahead to grab some photos and greet me at the next transition. He got this photo of our friend Daniel dressed in costume.

And not too much longer he got these of me.

By the time I saw Frank again a few miles down the road, I passed two more riders. Coming in hot into the North Bridge put in for the Gunnison River.

I changed shoes, downed some Honey Stinger Chews, grabbed my borrowed duckie, and into the river I went. Emma and Emma (a team, as opposed to individual competitors like myself) were right behind. Emma had been the only one to pass me on the bike portion, flying by me in her hot pink tights.

I got in the duckie without hesitation, and somehow made it look like I knew what I was doing, even though I’d never even taken a duckie down a stretch of river before.

The river was swelling. The current was fast, and constant paddling was needed to keep the boat on the correct course. I looked behind and smiled at Daniel. He was now cruising by me on a kayak. “I have no idea what I’m doing here,” I yelled, cracking up. “Well, you seem to be doing just fine.” And off he went. I didn’t see him until the finish line.

I looked behind and Emma and Emma were still there. I rested my paddle for a bit to fiddle with something and that was a mistake. The next thing I knew, my paddle was floating just up the river from me. No, no, no! I thought to myself. I can’t do anything without a paddle. So, I frantically splashed around with my hands and arms to slow the boat to let the paddle catch up with me. Success.

But wait, what’s this? A weird current had me, and it was trying to swoop me into a sharp turn in the river on my port side. Paddle harder, paddle harder. The river tried to swoop me to my left, right into a low hanging tree. But, I narrowly escaped. I looked behind, and saw Emma and Emma paddling hard too. They were getting sucked into the same left bank. A turn in the river blocked my view. And then the were gone. I kept looking back. I never saw them again until the end of the race. But, indeed, they did end up getting stuck on that low hanging tree.

The rest of the river was lonely. Except for a few random people on shore, I didn’t see anyone – at least, not until the very end. I was told I’d know when I was coming up on the whitewater park. And that sometime shortly after the first feature I’d have to exit the river to the right and cross the finish line on shore. But, I heard it before I saw it – the roar of the whitewater. And I thought to myself, “Hey, it doesn’t look as bad as I thought.”

Meanwhile, Frank had been there waiting for me, watching scores of people flip their boats on this very same feature. Like this paddle boarder…. about to eat it….

And our friend Alex…. Notice her, her boat, and her paddle, and the kayaker trying to help her….

Frank pretty much thought I was doomed. And I did too – Until I saw the feature that is. Then, I knew I had it…. Ready, set, go!

I didn’t swim. And it was a lot longer paddle than I thought to get to the exit for the finish line. But, I crossed it, still all in one piece, wet as a rat, and still smiling – greeted by a proud husband on the other side.

Somehow, I managed to do alright, despite never having done this race before or having had taken a duckie down a river, or even paddled this section of river before. In fact, I did well enough to earn the top podium spot for the Women’s Solo “Fun” category.

What’s more, I finished 8th out of 13 solo women, and 19th out of 37 total solo competitors – smack in middle, with a respectful time of 3 hours, 27 minute, and 27 seconds.

Would I do the CB3P again? Heck yeah. But, hopefully in better weather Then again, what else would I be doing on a rainy/snowy cold day in April? I Might as well join a bunch of other crazy people for a crazy race!

The post Crested Butte Pole Pedal Paddle Race (28 April 2019) appeared first on 14erskiers.com.

The thrill of skiing off-piste into the great white wilderness is what the Alps offer best. Ungroomed slopes give the exhilaration which the tailored ones do not. Documentaries often show skiers and snowboarders descending huge mountains swiftly, jumping off the edge of a cliff, and disappearing into the powdery white.

The good news is that the Alps offer something for everyone.  While more advanced ski mountaineers can head for bigger lines,  people with little backcountry touring experience  – can also ski  ungroomed slopes. So, if you plan to visit a European alpine country anytime soon, read on!

Minimizing the Risks

Make sure to consider these to minimize the risks on your new adventure:

1. Consider the conditions of the slope. Is the snow stable? This article by Ski Club should help you determine the stability of the snowpack. You can also refer to authoritative weather forecast sites, especially for skiers and snowboarders, to determine the conditions of the slope.
2. Hire a guide. A good guide will know the slopes and how they respond to varying weather . We have recommended specific guides for each of the locations mentioned further in this article.
3. Carry an avalanche transceiver and a . Try to opt in for avalanche training to be able to use these tools properly and ride powder safely.
4. Always ski with at least one partner in case you might need some help.

Backcountry Slopes in the Alps

Here’s a roundup of the best off-piste slopes that should be on your off-piste skiing bucket list.

Chamonix

Chamonix is situated on the border between Switzerland and Italy at the base of Mont Blanc. It provides access to incredible off-piste skiing in every weather condition. Chamonix offers a huge variety of terrain due to consistent snowfalls and multiple skiing areas, from couloirs to glaciers.

Booking a guide is recommended to help choose a safe course. It will cost an average of $408 for a group of four.

The Vallee Blanche

The Vallee Blanche is a must for adventurous and confident skiers. It offers every type of skiing you would ever want- steep, powder, ice, and couloir. The slope is a 23 km (14 miles) decent with a 2800m (9200 feet) vertical drop back to Chamonix. The route is not technically difficult provided the visibility remains good. You can finish the run at the railway terminus or ski your way back to Les Planards in Chamonix. The only catch is that you need to be physically fit to be able to ski for such a long time.

Les Grands Montets
With an altitude of 3300 m (10,800 feet) Les Grands Montets guarantees quality snow throughout the year. Skiing from the top is every skier’s dream. The route provides a vertical drops of 2000 m (6500 feet) to Argentiere.

Tignes

Image source: Mustania.com

Built in the in Vanoise National Park located in southeastern France, Tignes is the resort that offers world-class backcountry terrain. The resort boasts of nine natural and ungroomed pistes.

Booking a guide is recommended to help choose a safe course. It will cost an average of $475 for a group of six.

Guerlain Chicherit
A backcountry veteran, Guerlain Chicherit is responsible for the discovery of many off-piste descents of Tignes. The most challenging route, therefore, is named after him.

The run starts 980 feet (300 meters) after the Pramecou slope. Running along the ski line will help you find fresh snow. The run follows the Col des Ves chairlift.

Le Couloir du Chardonnet
The classic Couloir du Chardonnet is well-known for its steep powder couloir. It is accessible from the Grattalu chair and drops down to the Grand Huit chair. There is a bit of climb that needs to be done from the chair to the start of the run. The route carries the risk of avalanche in heavy snow.

Mickey’s Ears
The challenging off-piste route is for the advanced skiers and is accessible from the Toviere lift. The start of the run is a 30-minute walk from the list. The couloir is so named because of mouse-like antennas at the top.

The couloir is as steep as 48 degrees, making the drop one hell of an adrenaline-pumping adventure. You can organize a heli pick-up after you ski all the way down to the lake.

Les 3 Vallees

Spanning over 373 miles (600 kilometers) of pistes across 8 resorts, Les 3 Vallees is the biggest ski area in the Alps. Some of the best runs can be made in Courchevel, Meribel, and Val Thorens.

Booking a guide is recommended to help choose a safe course. It will cost an average of $435 for a group of two.

Courchevel

1. Saulire- Taking the Saulire car gives you access to steep couloirs of up to 40 degrees on either side. The snow here stays fresh due to its northern exposure.
2. Creux Noirs- Hiking from the top of the Creux Noirs chairlift gives you access to a host of off-piste routes. Drop off from the left to absorb the thrill of a 600 m (2000 feet)vertical drop.

Meribel-Val Thorens

1. Olympique Express-The Olympic chair from Meribel will take you up to Roc de Fer to access gentle off-piste The descent is not very steep and is ideal for first-time off-piste skiers. The route is a mixture of powder fields and forest.

Image source: valthornes.com

2. Mont du Vallon- The cable car in Van Thorens takes you up to 2952 m (9685 feet) to the top of the summit. The route down gives you access to powder-filled valleys with a vertical drop of 850 m (2788 feet), back to the lift./li>

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The post Where to Find the Best Off-Piste Skiing in the Alps appeared first on 14erskiers.com.

The account below is one small piece of a series of posts documenting our road trip to Montana and interior British Columbia in February, 2010. Stops included Bridger, Whitefish, Fernie, Roger’s Pass, Kicking Horse, Revelstoke, Whitewater, and Red (Rossland). This unforgettable adventure was made possible by the generosity of strangers – now friends – who time and time again let us crash on their floors or in their guest rooms, and then guided us around some of the best terrain that they knew. We were lucky to have this in almost every place we stopped.

This trip reminds us that, while we have adventures in places, it’s the people as much as the place that make the adventure best. I have chosen to feature only one small part of our magical trip. But, altogether, it was the trip of a lifetime. To those of you who made this trip possible, we still owe you a huge thanks. Let’s do our part keep the backcountry skiing community generous and real!

Earlier this week, Frank and I realized that two of the best people we met on this trip have now left this Earth. While they are not featured in this particular segment, let this stand as a tribute to them. Long live the memory of Tony Saracelli and Ethan Johnson. Both of you made this world a better place!

This post was originally written March 8, 2010.

After enjoying our time at Whitefish, we continued north, crossing the border into Canada, where the mountains suddenly seemed more interesting.

The drive from Whitefish to Fernie took us less than 2 hours. We were there with plenty of time to grab some dinner and drinks.

The views of the ski area from town are stunning.

We began our day at the Fernie ski area.

We admired the ridge lines we would love to ski from afar.

But, we quickly headed out for a long slackcountry tour, guided by our Fernie friends, Rob and Adam.

Rob skinning, with the town of Fernie in the distant valley below.

Adam with his Aussie smile.

This looked enticing….

But, this looked even better. Our first line of the day!

The skin up to the chutes provided amazing views.

We were in love with the treasure of the bluebird sky!

Time for the skiing. Rob dropping in.

Me, as seen from above.

Frank.

Adam.

Second skin up another bowl.

There we found some fantastic surface hoar snow that we played on for two laps. Frank enjoying the goods.

Me.

Adam putting in a little zing.

Four backcountry runs and 7 hours later we were back at the bottom of the ski area. Thanks to our super guides, Rob and Adam, we got a delicious taste of what Fernie has to offer. Someday we’d like to come back for dessert Thanks guys!

Other Montana-Canada Road Trip Blog Posts
Road Trip Update
Itinerary
Bridger Bowl
Whitefish
Fernie
Kicking Horse
Roger’s Pass
Revelstoke
Nelson and Whitewater
Red Mountain and Rossland

The post TBT: Backcountry skiing in Fernie (2/23/2010) appeared first on 14erskiers.com.

Some days are better than others. Those days that you relish, where just thinking of the memory draws a smile on your face. Those days where you can feel yourself re-living the moment, the feeling, the taste, the smell. Those days you want to talk about, but you don’t want people to think you actually live in the past. But, those are the days that you live for – and you hope for more. And one of them happened to Frank and back in December 2012.

It was Saturday morning and the snow had been falling for 24 hours. Even better, snow was in the forecast for the next 4 days. Ullr had finally gifted us with snow But, being a southwestern flow, Crested Butte was not as favored as the San Juans. Wolf Creek ski area was simply getting pounded with snow. And we made it our mission to travel there the next day.

Let’s be frank – the drive sucked. But the 52+ inches of fresh combined with a $35 lift ticket (early season price) made for a 67-cent per inch powder day. The pictures will show that the drive was worth it.

Allison

Fritz

Nate

Grete

Frank

Can you find him now? Too many photos look like this – a ball of cold smoke pushing down the hill…

Fritz shared some great photos of us. Me.

And a fantastic photo sequence of Frank.

And the day just didn’t stop. This photo of Chris was taken at 3:20 pm. He’s under there somewhere

I’ve had a lot of powder days. But the number of days that I can truly call “ridonkulously deep” are less than 10. The number of “ridonkulously deep” days I’ve had in-bounds can be counted on one hand. Throw in some of the lightest powder I’ve ever skied and now we’ve got one heck of a memorable day. I’ll be re-living this moment for years to come.

The post TBT: 67 Cents per Inch – The Ridonkulously Deep Powder Day appeared first on 14erskiers.com.

Japan is an amazing, bizzarre country. When you see Japanese lining up to take pictures of the most regular thing ever, like a road sign, it seems, well, odd. It’s odd because it’s a simple road sign meant to indicate icy roads ahead. No big deal. Then, you drive in Japan.

As an American, an international driver’s license, valid in 196 countries, requires nothing more than a passport picture and $15. A small little booklet shows up in the mail. No instructions, no list of “do’s and don’ts”, not even a list of which country’s residents drive on the right hand side and which drive on the left. Imagine, concentrating on driving a rental car on the left hand side of the road, using your left hand to shift gears, trying to remember that the window wipers and turn signals are on the opposite sides, all the while trying to recognize road signs (if any at all) written in Kanji. You can’t even READ! But you can understand pictures. Pictures of the mascot of Niseko, the skiing potato.

Pictures of oversized fox creatures with extra long whiskers. I find myself stopping in the middle of the street to take pictures of perfectly normal [things], like a street sign. It seems odd to the local. I am officially a tourist.

Thank heavens skiing powder is a universal language. This is why I’ve traveled nearly 8000 miles by plane, train, bus, car, and foot to ski the deep magical powder of Japan, Niseko specifically. Hokkaido is known for copious amounts of light, fluffy goodness boasting a similar water content to the powder in Utah, 8-9%, not exactly the lowest WSE (water snow equivalent) out there but somehow skis amazing.

Incredibly cold air blows in from the plains of Siberia, sucks up moisture from the Sea of Japan, remains freeze dried as it wraps around various volcanoes and then dumps around 500“ of snowfall Mt. Annupuri, home to five ski areas. Annupuri, Niseko Village, Hirafu, and Hanazono are all under the umbrella of Niseko United and off to the side is Moiwa, the little family resort that rocks.

A stone’s throw away is Mt. Yotei, an 1898 meter volcano on which you can backcountry ski any aspect and even down the crater on top for extra points.

Then there is all the easily accessible snow cones of backcountry – Mostly dormant volcanoes, harvesting deep consistent powder with a view of the sea in the background and hot springs (called “onsens”) on the drive home. Mellow terrain with hero snow; anybody can feel like a rock star in Hokkaido with minimal effort. I’ve skied the deepest powder of my life in Japan, up to my chest, literally.

It’s a common thought that the terrain saves lives in the Niseko area. The average slope angle is around 30 degrees. No big deal. The average snowfall is close to 500” each season. Kind of a big deal. The average professional avalanche mitigation done is close to none. Big deal. Countless numbers of skiers and snowboarders travel out the backcountry gates of Niseko unfamiliar with the use of a beacon, shovel or probe. Ski patrol states visitors should travel at their own risk yet they take ridiculous measures to keep skiers out the days they decide the danger is high. Cultural differences of opinion on how to manage avalanche terrain are about as cohesive as a bag of magnets. If someone dies in avalanche terrain, in any manner, that area is closed indefinitely. The one daily avalanche bulletin states the weather, includes a sentence discussing the snowpack if you’re lucky, then goes on and on and on about how disrespectful it is to the local customs to duck ropes. When avalanches do occur there is no forum for discussion. It’s almost as if it’s embarrassing if a mistake is made and best kept secret, as if to save face. This is really challenging for the visiting backcountry traveler.

Is there a solution? Have things changed since I last visited in 2015? I’m not sure, however, I was fortunate to visit Kashmir, India this year and check out Gulmarg ski area. While the area is way less developed and sees hundreds less skier days a season it suffers from the same challenges. The terrain isn’t so forgiving though and the hospital much less appealing. The mountains don’t care how far away from home you are but it sure is fun to explore!

The post Guest Post: Skiing in Niseko, Japan appeared first on 14erskiers.com.

“There’s skiing in India?” This is the number one question I got when telling my friends and family of my upcoming adventure. YES! There IS skiing in India! When my friend, Leslie from A-Basin, asked me to join her on this epic bucket list item she was ready to check off I really hadn’t the slightest idea where the skiing actually was in Kashmir, India. Nor did I care. Skiing with rad women in a wildly foreign country? I’m in. As the months unfolded before departure it became apparent this was going to be the trip of a lifetime.

First off, all four of us absolutely love to ski so we had our priorities straight. All of us had been on Crested Butte Ski Patrol at one point or another so we had the experience. Krista Hildebrandt is still rocking the red cross in her 25th year, Robin, now lucky enough to shred the coveted Utah pow, showed me the ropes back in the day, and Leslie likely gave North Face tours before the NFL poma showed up. Most importantly, we knew how to have a good time no matter how the adventure unfolded.

From Crested Butte to Denver to Munich to New Dehli to Saringar to Gulmarg and bam, we are ski touring with monkeys.

While a storm was laying down a fresh coat of paint we anxiously waited until day three to access the steeper terrain. Gulmarg ski area has two phases of a gondola starting at 8727’ and ending at 13,057′ on a ridgeline littered with avalanche paths. The in-bounds, controlled area is quite small but the areas north and south are open to be explored, preferably by those with the gear and knowledge to do so. Snow safety director, Luke Smithwick, makes it very clear every Tuesday evening at his avy talk that those areas possess “wild snow” and it is unlikely patrol will come to save you if something goes wrong.

On our first bluebird day our guide took us on a mellow tour to the town of Drung where we interrupted a school day to hand out chocolate and let the kids mess around with our skis. They weren’t shy and they love chocolate but were kinda freaked out by Krista’s airbag.

Each day we pushed out a little farther building trust in our guides and the snowpack. The skiing was fantastic and the views stunning. Our tail guide was a Kashmiri local which was super helpful for negotiating our way through the Indian Army Camp and scoring us a couple forbidden beers. Touring super close to the Pakastani border had its own excitements. At one point when it may have been perceived that we were spies on skis a helicopter appeared over the horizon a couple times to check on us. I’ve seen helis in the mountains transporting skiers, filming, and out on a rescue mission, but never have I seen one ready to shoot if necessary. Don’t get me wrong, the ladies and I never felt unsafe, but the long standing fight to claim Kashmir as part of India, Pakistan, or China is far from settled.

As the week went on we continued to seek out the north facing powder and even snuck in a little corn skiing. I’m really grateful I could keep up on skis as my snowboard only came out once. The traverses to get back to the base area are long, longer, and longest. One can also drop off the backside to access Shark’s Fin and another sweet face protected from the sun and skin back up to the main ridge.

The skiing part of our trip ended with a night spent on a house boat in Sringar followed by checking out the floating vegetable market at sunrise the next morning. It was so amusing to watch the morning commerce.

Sadly we said goodbye to Robin and continued on with the non-skiing part of our adventure checking out the “golden triangle” with a little twist. The twist was a night spent in the Neemrama Palace complete with terraces, massive chamber doors, and tiny window structures designed so that the queen could always be watching what’s going on outside but no one could see her inside.

The remainder of our vacation was non-stop eye candy. Forts, palaces, shrines, mosques, monkeys, camels, dogs, goats, cows, elephants, street festivals, spice markets, fabrics galore, and of course, the Taj Mahal.

If you want to experience steep powder skiing combined with the fascinating philosophies of Muslim, Hindu, and Sikh cultures, I recommend a visit to Gulmarg. The welcoming locals have lots to share and future access to the Kashmiri Himalaya is questionable. So, check it out while you still can!

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