When asked how I feel about glades, I often respond with, “They’re okay, but they have trees. Very hard trees. Very hard trees that will hurt me if I crash into them.” Even though I’ve been skiing for around 10 years, I wouldn’t consider myself an expert by any means. I have a good foundation, but no more.
Given my sentiments towards glades, one can imagine how I felt about backcountry skiing: it made me apprehensive. Doing any activity in nature always leaves me breathless and inspired, though attaching my feet to two sliding boards and allowing myself to hurtle down an ungroomed hill full of trees, rocks, and other obstacles never really appealed to me.
My mindset completely reversed, however, after being taken backcountry skiing with a couple of local Coloradoans recently.
Over half block break, I visited a dear friend of mine named Emily who lives in Basalt, a small town just outside of Aspen. A resident of Basalt all her life, Emily has been skiing since the age of two in a multitude of capacities, highly influenced by her dad Jim and his extensive skiing background.
One of the days of break, Emily took me to Aspen Snowmass and had me ski all over the mountain. It was the ideal ski day and, satisfied, I figured that was the end of our skiing for the visit—until Sunday morning arrived. Groggily waking up at nine, I came downstairs to find Emily and her dad discussing the overnight snowfall—it had amounted to a whole eight inches.
You could see the light in their eyes as they contemplated the powder that Mother Nature had just blessed us with. If we mobilized immediately, they informed me, we could head to a backcountry area near Sunlight (Williams Peak, affectionately called “Willie’s”) and get a hike and a few runs in. As they stared at me expectantly, I knew I basically had no choice. I was going backcountry skiing, whether I liked it or not.
Driving towards Sunlight, the accumulated snow was undeniable. We passed the resort and found ourselves on a long, unplowed, unpaved road covered in the fluffy powder.
We parked behind a string of cars that undoubtedly carried other backcountry enthusiasts to this particular location. Emily and her dad could feel my uneasiness settling in, yet they reassured me constantly while we prepared for our short trip.
Emily’s dad fixed me up on a pair of wide, Black Diamond skis with an AT setup. He explained to me the difference between AT and Telemark skis and how skins would allow us to hike in our skis. After I was fully equipped, we began our hike along the road and then into the trees.
I immediately felt a rush of energy from moving on the skis. As a lover of cardiovascular exercise, I appreciated how the hike was getting my blood pumping and my heart rate up. Once we got into the trees, I found myself even more excited; the wilderness surrounding us was so pristine and fresh from the new-fallen snow, unmarred by grooming and other skiers one would find at a resort.
As we broke into a valley, the sun radiated across the mountainside and I couldn’t help but feel giddy to experience nature at its finest.
We made our way to the top of this clearing, leaving us a solid line below—not too steep, with few obstacles—for me to practice on. Emily’s dad explained to me how I shouldn’t try to carve my edges when I turn, but rather should “float” on the powder, keeping my knees bent and body forward with my arms out like I was holding a lunch tray.
I watched him and Emily effortlessly “float” down the line, unsure I could replicate their beautiful form. Timidly, I gulped and let myself start to descend. While I didn’t adhere as well as I would have liked to Jim’s instructions, I was immediately relieved to find how much the powder slowed me down.
I honestly did feel like I was gliding along the snow, and the process felt calm and natural. This was what skiing was really about, I thought, as I made wide, smooth turns through this white cotton candy.
Stoked on my first run (no falls!), I was ready to kick it up a notch. Jim blazed the trail as we once again hiked along our original tracks and continued upward, leading to a new, steeper clearing. Still nervous but pining for more, I once again followed Emily and Jim down several lines, my form improving after each stop.
When we reached the bottom of the initial valley, we wove our way through the trees and back down to the road. With no major collisions, I considered my first backcountry skiing performance an overall success.
I had warned Emily beforehand not to be disappointed if I didn’t like backcountry skiing. To this she replied, with a knowing smile on her face, “Trust me: you will.”
She was right. Not only did I love hiking in a new way, using completely foreign equipment, I also loved the style of skiing. The depth of the powder was key; by eliminating dangerous speeds, I was able to concentrate on form and was able to appreciate my surroundings. I felt almost weightless under this reassuring cushion of powder. Falling couldn’t hurt me and it was basically impossible to lose control.
But beyond my own love for this heart-pumping, skillful activity, I felt like I was experiencing nature and skiing the way it should be experienced: free of commercialization, lift lines, and overpriced hot chocolate.
And now I can’t wait to do it again.
Sarah Laico
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