Fetch!

The list of welcome sights up a mountain is usually a simple one: powder snow, blue sky, snow-caked trees, a cosy hut. But if you're unlucky enough to get buried by an avalanche, there could be no better view than Farley's nose breaking through the snow, with Fernie patroller Jennifer Coulter (Farley's handler) not far behind. This combo will save lives. Farley is just 2 years old and still in training with Jen under the Canadian Avalanche Rescue Dog Association (CARDA) program. He already has the hang of things, speedily finding two buried items in an exercise in avalanche runout the size of a football pitch, though his bedside manner would be disconcerting for anyone on the receiving end - the dogs are trained to get very excited about whatever they pull from the snow, thrashing the 'victim' to and fro. After the demo search they decided to bury me (nothing personal, I was assured) to allow Farley to practise digging up a human rather than just an old sweater. I didn't have to wait long in my icy tomb, though time enough to realise how unnerving the silence could be (and they barely covered the entrance to my snowhole); and I had room to move, a bit - nothing like the vice-grip of a real burial, but still sobering. I was ready with one of Farley's search rags held in front of my face, and before I knew it he was scrabbling through and dragging me out for a thrashing tug-of-war. "It's fine to let go if he nips you," said Jen. No kidding.

Despite being so effective at rapid search, dogs are often deployed to assist in body-recovery outside of a ski area, searching avalanche debris hours after an incident has taken place. Fernie's thorough avalanche control program, with a lot of explosives fired towards the headwalls above the bowls each morning after fresh snow, along with expert evaluation by the patrollers and weather experts, should ensure that you're safe within-bounds. But as you head into one of Fernie's steeper powder pockets, it's comforting to know Farley's in his kennel at the top of the White Pass quad chairlift, from where he should be able to reach you in time to make a difference. And on a personal note, I was thinking I have a fractional advantage now that Farley knows my smell. But as someone pointed out, that could go either way...

Mind the Gap

Riding through trees? I never used to get it. I skied with people from Vermont who said, "Follow me!" before disappearing into a thicket. They should have said, "Go roughly in the same direction as me, but parallel to my tracks!", but it's not as snappy.
Anyhow, I followed, and found myself rapidly accelerating along their tracks, with no fresh snow to slow my rate of progress. Round about tree three I'd be travelling at speeds that would invalidate the warranty on most of my ski equipment, and the immediate future would not be looking too rosy. Somehow I always survived but I could never claim to have enjoyed the experience except afterwards in the 'glad to be alive' sense.
But the penny finally dropped: avoiding people's tracks and turning through untouched snow - the deeper the better - keeps things nicely in control. Everything suddenly became as easy as falling off a log, rather than skiing into one. I can't claim to be much good in trees yet, certainly not when the steepness and timber density crosses a critical threshold, but I know how good this not-obviously-fun branch of skiing can be. And let's leave off the puns.
So, tree skiing tips from www.ultimate-ski.com:

• If you look for the gaps and not at the trees, you'll miss the woodwork; but if your tree skiing threatens to become a full-contact sport you're doing it wrong and should stop. Right away. Now!
• Wear a helmet. Although a good smack into a tree trunk will break your neck with or without a brain-bucket attached, you're aiming to avoid this kind of thing (see above). Smaller branches and sharp twigs to the scalp are the real concern, particularly in glades where trees have been trimmed to the trunk up to head height for short people (and you're tall).
• Wear goggles, for related reasons.
• Don't use your pole straps - if a pole catches catches fast in undergrowth, the strap should fail before your arm rips off at the shoulder, but this is not something you want to test in practice.
• Finally, NARSIDs (and to you too). No, not a term of abuse, but Non Avalanche Related Snow Immersion Deaths. More succinctly, falling into and then suffocating in tree-wells (snow-free hollows, down to the roots, which can form around tree trunks) after the kind of snow storm that makes trees so appealing to ride through. In British Columbia the snow depth and consistency means this happens enough to make buddy-riding essential. Once you're down one of these holes you can neither climb out, be seen or be heard shouting for help and you rapidly succumb to hypothermia even if you're otherwise uninjured.

So, what are you waiting for? Well, if you know what's good for you, wide-spaced trees and gentle slopes, in the early stages at least. Have at it!

It doesn't get better than this

Fernie, BC

A resort with a reputation for great snow usually means when I turn up it:

a) starts raining

or

b) snows so much the lifts can't run

Well, we had almost enough for B, followed in the evening by A, followed the next morning by neither of the above - just perfect fresh snow, blue skies and men with dynamite setting off avalanches in all directions. Heaven. There's nothing more to say, which is why you've got the extra big picture of www.ultimate-ski.com testing some fantastic new Arc'teryx gear while spoiling the snow on Snake Ridge.

World's greatest liftie

Castle Mountain, Alberta, is full of surprises - not least how a barely known ski hill can have such amazing terrain and great snow, and pretty good uplift, without losing its soul.
One of the reasons comes in the shape of Marie Cameron, unquestionably the world's greatest liftie, who hugs every skier and boarder who loads the chairlift she's operating. Marie, who learnt to ski at Castle, as did her kids, started working on the lifts two years ago. Hugging friends as they lined up seemed the natural thing to do, but of course others wanted a hug too. Now everyone gets a hug and Marie "feels awesome"; she is better known, and knows more people, than anyone else on the hill. In fact, in the province, probably.

Steep enough for ya?

What is it with resort names? Rarely do they describe what's really going on. Take Kicking Horse, British Columbia: it kicks, for sure, but Kicking Mountain Goat might be nearer the mark. Steep does not adequately describe what's going on here, and the resort is pretty straightforward about what they've got: if you're a beginner or anything less than a very adventurous intermediate, it's nothing personal, but they don't want you here - there are plenty of more suitable places. Michael Dalzell, the resort's sales & marketing director took a reluctant break from his office to explain it all to me today in the Eagle's Eye restaurant on the peak, shortly before demonstrating what he was talking about on the way down - that's him on the left.
So if you think steep skiing is for you, bring it on. There are places with comparable challenge - Jackson Hole, Big Sky, Chamonix, Alagna, Engelberg, Verbier - but only La Grave shares Kicking Horse's ultra-simple layout. Basically, one gondola rises from 3900ft (1190m) to 7700ft (2450m) without stopping, passing go, or collecting $200. For a few years that was it - head on down via any number of ungroomed bowls, ridgelines and thick forest, perhaps leaving your plan for the day with someone who cared enough to raise the alarm if you were more than a few hours late. There's even a grizzly named Boo fast asleep in the middle of a thicket halfway down the mountain, for Pete's sake, who tends to wake up ravenous when spring arrives a little early.
Things have changed, a bit, with one groomed run 'guaranteed' from the top, a couple of quad chairs for variety, and some really nice ski-in ski-out accommodation, but they can't really kid anyone. Nor should anyone kid themselves or a local guide that they're up to the mark. It's not just the pitch but the length of the drop, and all of this without having to hike more than ten minutes, though there's even more to north and south beyond bounds where the snow (a strong point, generally) is even better. So if you ever thought you really knew how to ride, or you're Scandinavian, get out here, now.

Rocky Mountain High

I have a confession to make: until a week ago, I'd never skied in Canada ('Get out of here!', as the locals would say).
But I've been making up for lost time: 4 resorts later and a trip across the Rockies, west to east, I'm even getting to know the wildlife. The critter count includes one moose, an elk, a coyote which circled our stationary car 3 times (looking hungry), a snowshoe hare and loads of Canadian skiers (when there's a hint of snow in the air, they'll drive for hours to make turns at the weekend), along with a sprinkling of Australians, Kiwis and Brits.
The route so far: Whistler, Jasper (Marmot Basin), Lake Louise and Kicking Horse. Highlights to come in later posts, but for now, a couple of things: what is it with North Americans and coffee? They discuss it in Canada and in the US like it's a matter of life and death, and then they serve you a cup of brown water. Please, go to Italy, just once, even if there isn't much snow there right now, and learn about real coffee.
The other thing: any Europeans going to the trouble of flying all this way should arrange their trip to include more than one resort, if possible, and some off-mountain stuff too. Yes, the snow is frequently great and the lift lines are mostly short, but the resorts are not where the essence of the country resides. You get the full flavour on the move, whether it's on the coast road north of Vancouver, the VIA rail journey across the Rockies, or the Icefields Parkway through some of Canada's most impressive scenery. Some resorts talk of developing their bases and on-mountain facilities to make you feel more at home, but essentially these are still places to ski and board to the max and then leave at the end of the day. A magical exception is the Num-Ti-Jah Lodge, which might just be the most perfect winter getaway in the world, never mind the Rockies. You'll have to skin or snowshoe for your turns out there, but even die-hard piste bashers would get the point in these surroundings.

There is a snow god

Chamonix, France: the resort breathes a sigh of relief. La neige est arrivée. Here and in most ski resorts in the French, Swiss and Austrian Alps. And it's just in time, just as we were writing off 2007 as the ski season that wasn't, after 3 long weeks of unseasonably warm weather, cloud-less skies and ever louder cries from the doomsayers about global warming. Temperatures today in Chamonix - 10 below at resort level - are far from warm. Higher up on the slopes the cold is biting. Cold enough to justify a snood? It's never that cold.

As dumps of snow go this one was near perfect, big fat flakes falling mainly overnight and whitewashing trees, mountains and pavements. Skiers and boarders woke this morning to a blue sky day and get-me-to-them-quickly white peaks. Les Grands Montets looked good. Le Tour looked good. Damn even Les Houches looked good. But is this week's snowfall enough to make a real difference? Should the fence-sitters book their ski holiday now? Well, Geneva (ok, so it's not a ski resort, but first impressions count when you step off the plane) hasn't had this much snow in 16 years. Where it matters, up on the hill, the piste conditions are definitely better. Less icy, fewer rocks poking through, and less grass visible. Sub-text (and read knowing I'm a glass half-full kind of person): we still need more. On more exposed slopes the wind has whipped the powder into stiff white waves pushing today's avalanche risk up to "considerable" (3/5). Phat boy skis back in the box, you will have your day (though this year you might have to go to Whistler).

This week's snowfall does at least confirm the difference a day can make, and if things get really desperate we can always join in with these guys…

Get ahead, get a hat

One of many things not to be surprised about when snow cover's thin (though it's now dumping down in the Dolomites and a few other corners of Europe - yay!) is the high accident rate. There's an increased chance not just of holes in your soles, from rocks, but in your head, from collisions with people failing to cope with sketchy hardpack.
So, wear a helmet. Unless of course there's a chance that any potential benefit is outweighed by some of the negative effects of wearing one. In which case, don't wear a helmet. But do ski more carefully.
And if you think risk compensation is phooey, then why, in the event of being hit from behind on piste, is it disproportionately probable, apparently, that the guilty party will be wearing a helmet?
A slightly different effect was recorded on the streets in the UK, where a scientist found cars passed him on his bicycle more closely when he wore a helmet than when he didn't (something a few urban riders were already familiar with). But not many of us have taken the next step, of wearing a long flowing wig to look like a dizzy blonde. He tried that too and got an even wider berth though he did presumably get his backside pinched more at traffic lights.
So there you have it: a theory for why some Scotsmen ski in kilts - they are in fact cross-dressing for safety.

Snow science

A butterfly flaps its wings in the Amazon and six months later we get a hurricane in Watford. That, in a nutshell, is what chaos theory is all about - nothing to do with that cupboard under the stairs after all, and everything to do with the idea that stuff has an effect on other stuff.

Well, I reckon a herd of warthogs in the Serengeti must have been breaking wind with more than their usual vigour to judge by the elevated air temperatures Europe has experienced so far this winter. Or doesn't it work like that?

The trouble is, it's very hard not to think about the weather all the time if you ski or board, as the massive online search activity for 'snow reports' demonstrates. We're not unique in this respect - surfers are always looking for the next wave, smacking their lips as another depression rolls in towards their bit of coastline. But they're lucky, needing only the swell to arrive, without worrying too much about the temperatures that accompany it, or if it's going to be raining (look, I don't care if you can hang ten while patting your head, rubbing your tummy and doing sudoku, you're goint to get wet at some point).

We, on the other hand, need the following: a storm that brings precipitation (plenty), at sufficiently cold temperatures, preferably without much wind (avalanche hazard), followed by clear cold weather (but not too cold). Ideally, the action will take place overnight, leaving your days clear to ride.

OK that last bit is not essential, but just the first part is a tall order. So maybe 9 out of 10 good years is pretty respectable, especially when you consider that normal winter freezing altitudes coincide pretty nearly with the height at which you find ideal ski terrain in many parts of the world. Either there is a greater being in charge (and she is a wintersports fanatic) or we're incredibly lucky.

Reach for the sky

At times like these - that is to say when I'm in Europe and it's nearly 15 degrees centigrade warmer than normal, while in North America it's bucketing down with snow - my thoughts naturally turn to things like ski-lifts. Ski-lifts that go very high, mostly.

Some of these will remain just twinkles in Doppelmayr's eye - like the alleged concession to build a lift to the peak of the Matterhorn (4478m will do nicely, thankyou, though they'd need a fair bit of orange netting down the first 1500m of descent), while something like the Monterosa's Salati-Indren lift will be with us in a couple of seasons... maybe.

But uplift isn’t just about speed, efficiency and high-technology. It can be a charming, sometimes thrilling part of your mountain experience. Scary tin-cans on cables are the obvious contenders. Then there are the nostalgic sideways-chairs (you take your skis off, for this type, if you know what's good for your lower-limbs); sometimes they throw a rug over your knees, which can be quite scary in itself depending on who you're sharing with.

So here are some favourites - please add your own in the comments section.
Epic: Courmayeur's Cresta d’Arp and, on the Mont Blanc side, the entire Helbronner series of lifts
Quirky: Heiligenblut’s gondolas - through a tunnel in the mountain
Vintage: Punta Indren, Alagna and the classic bucket lift below; Kandersteg’s sideways double chairs, with awning, oilskin weather protection and sideways clunk-click-every-trip safety bars

Safety bars: an unexpected aspect to riding lifts in the US is that no-one likes to use the safety bars. Sometimes they don't even have them. Very strange in a land renowned for ambulance chasing lawyers, and disconcerting for anyone with a touch of vertigo. And if you think there's nothing to worry about, google 'chairlift, accident' for a bit of a fright.
Whatever you do, bar or no bar, just don't forget to get off...