A few weeks ago I was lucky enough to spend a week at Points North Heli-Adventures, an operation in Cordova, AK, that is owned and operated by Tahoe locals Kevin Quinn and Jessica Sobolowski-Quinn.
Short version: IT WAS AMAZING. Totally surreal. Best week ever.
Longer version:
There were a bunch of reasons I picked PNH.
The downside of Alaska is that you really have to deal with weather. When you buy a week at PNH (trips run Saturday -- Saturday), you pay for 4 heli hours, which roughly equates to three big days of skiing. It’s pretty rare to need more than that. My week (Week 8) skied 2.5 days, with one day where we didn’t get back until after 5 p.m. Week 6 didn’t get to ski at all, which is quite rare but also particularly brutal (PNH does credit you for unused heli hours at the end of your trip). Week 9 got four amazing bluebird days, which is pretty much the best-case scenario. So, you’re going to have some down days to deal with.
On your down days, you can:
However, the upside of Alaska is that when you get to ski, you’re magically transported via helicopter into the middle of the most unreal, mind-blowing terrain you’ve ever seen. I’d been in a helicopter before, and it in no way prepared me for how awesome it is to fly through the Chugach, swoop around a peak, and get dropped off on a ridge that’s straight out of a ski movie. Anytime anything was happening that involved skiing or helicopters, I had to pinch myself to be sure it was real.
As far as the actual skiing goes, I think our conditions were average. About half of our skiing time was kind of overcast, which really limits where the helis can land; visibility is obviously very important, and the pilots were only willing to fly to one small area on our first day out. It was also warm, so in general the top parts of our runs were amazing snow, and then the lower sections got heavy and manky pretty quickly. Conditions were also really sloughy, which I admittedly don’t have much experience with, but some people were saying they were skiing more conservatively as a result.
The good news is, I was so psyched to be in Alaska for the first time that I really didn’t care. Even on an average day, skiing in Alaska for the first time is a pretty surreal experience. The terrain is huge and looks like it goes on forever. The snow really does feel like velvet, and sticks to faces that wouldn’t be skiable anywhere else. You can ski lines that would be off limits due to avy danger in any other snowpack. To top it all off, there’s a helicopter that whisks you to the top of peak after peak so you can ski untracked lines over and over again. If you need perfect conditions to have fun under those circumstances, I feel like you should consider hanging up your skis.
I also genuinely didn’t want to push my limits on this trip; I just wanted to have the experience of skiing in that terrain, which I absolutely did. It was definitely a little intimidating to be in terrain that’s clearly so BIG, and so remote. Dealing with slough was also a challenge for me, since it turns out my preferred skiing speed is the exact speed at which my slough would catch me and knock me over. After getting bumped by my slough just hard enough to lose a ski, and then taking 20 minutes to find it and put it back on like a total gaper, I started taking the “take two turns and let your slough pass you” approach, which is very effective, but also makes for very boring GoPro videos.
In general, our guide (Silverton local and guide Kim Grant) would ski first, get down to a good stopping point, and then radio back up to us with whatever information we needed. Kim, while being a total badass who spent 8 years guiding on Denali in addition to many other impressive alpine accomplishments, had the sweetest vibe. The walkie talkie would crackle, and you’d hear something like, “Hey, Rachel? It’s really sloughy, hun. Stay left of my tracks, and when you pass out of the shade you’ll see kind of a dimple — stay right, that’s a crevasse. Be safe, and have a great time!” At the end of the week she gave me a huge hug and told me I did A GREAT JOB (I didn’t do that great a job). I loved her.
I have a few GoPro videos, both from some of the more chill terrain we did, that give an idea of what the skiing was actually like. The video where I’m scared of my slough is kind of embarrassing, because, man, I am squandering some good turns -- but it does show how little it takes to get a good amount of snow moving. I did have moments where I was less scared of my slough and actually made some decent turns like a competent skier.
Overall, I really can’t speak highly enough of the whole experience. I’m definitely going to try to get back in a few years, this time with the intention of pushing myself a bit and skiing some more committing terrain. I can only hope the weather cooperates, but if not, I’ve got some ping pong to play, some bald eagles to watch, and an excuse to try again.
Short version: IT WAS AMAZING. Totally surreal. Best week ever.
Longer version:
There were a bunch of reasons I picked PNH.
- I wanted to go to Alaska and experience that terrain versus that of the Canadian Rockies.
- I wanted a place with a more laid-back vibe than a luxury resort.
- I wanted to be as frugal as possible while still going heliskiing (ha).
- I’d skied with Jess before and had a great time, and trusted her to match me up with a good group.
The downside of Alaska is that you really have to deal with weather. When you buy a week at PNH (trips run Saturday -- Saturday), you pay for 4 heli hours, which roughly equates to three big days of skiing. It’s pretty rare to need more than that. My week (Week 8) skied 2.5 days, with one day where we didn’t get back until after 5 p.m. Week 6 didn’t get to ski at all, which is quite rare but also particularly brutal (PNH does credit you for unused heli hours at the end of your trip). Week 9 got four amazing bluebird days, which is pretty much the best-case scenario. So, you’re going to have some down days to deal with.
On your down days, you can:
- Hike! We did a glacier hike into a crazy ice cave that was really, really cool. Note: it will probably be raining while you hike, which is why you’re not skiing.
- Bike or walk to town! Stop at the place on the side of the road where the bald eagles swoop down and eat fish. Surprisingly entertaining.
- Ski from the town lift! Unfortunately not an option this year as the weather was unusually warm and there was no snow at sea level. PNH had a really odd season in general, weather-wise.
- Go to the bar! Popular option.
- Play ping pong with the Australians!
- Do laundry!
However, the upside of Alaska is that when you get to ski, you’re magically transported via helicopter into the middle of the most unreal, mind-blowing terrain you’ve ever seen. I’d been in a helicopter before, and it in no way prepared me for how awesome it is to fly through the Chugach, swoop around a peak, and get dropped off on a ridge that’s straight out of a ski movie. Anytime anything was happening that involved skiing or helicopters, I had to pinch myself to be sure it was real.
As far as the actual skiing goes, I think our conditions were average. About half of our skiing time was kind of overcast, which really limits where the helis can land; visibility is obviously very important, and the pilots were only willing to fly to one small area on our first day out. It was also warm, so in general the top parts of our runs were amazing snow, and then the lower sections got heavy and manky pretty quickly. Conditions were also really sloughy, which I admittedly don’t have much experience with, but some people were saying they were skiing more conservatively as a result.
The good news is, I was so psyched to be in Alaska for the first time that I really didn’t care. Even on an average day, skiing in Alaska for the first time is a pretty surreal experience. The terrain is huge and looks like it goes on forever. The snow really does feel like velvet, and sticks to faces that wouldn’t be skiable anywhere else. You can ski lines that would be off limits due to avy danger in any other snowpack. To top it all off, there’s a helicopter that whisks you to the top of peak after peak so you can ski untracked lines over and over again. If you need perfect conditions to have fun under those circumstances, I feel like you should consider hanging up your skis.
I also genuinely didn’t want to push my limits on this trip; I just wanted to have the experience of skiing in that terrain, which I absolutely did. It was definitely a little intimidating to be in terrain that’s clearly so BIG, and so remote. Dealing with slough was also a challenge for me, since it turns out my preferred skiing speed is the exact speed at which my slough would catch me and knock me over. After getting bumped by my slough just hard enough to lose a ski, and then taking 20 minutes to find it and put it back on like a total gaper, I started taking the “take two turns and let your slough pass you” approach, which is very effective, but also makes for very boring GoPro videos.
In general, our guide (Silverton local and guide Kim Grant) would ski first, get down to a good stopping point, and then radio back up to us with whatever information we needed. Kim, while being a total badass who spent 8 years guiding on Denali in addition to many other impressive alpine accomplishments, had the sweetest vibe. The walkie talkie would crackle, and you’d hear something like, “Hey, Rachel? It’s really sloughy, hun. Stay left of my tracks, and when you pass out of the shade you’ll see kind of a dimple — stay right, that’s a crevasse. Be safe, and have a great time!” At the end of the week she gave me a huge hug and told me I did A GREAT JOB (I didn’t do that great a job). I loved her.
I have a few GoPro videos, both from some of the more chill terrain we did, that give an idea of what the skiing was actually like. The video where I’m scared of my slough is kind of embarrassing, because, man, I am squandering some good turns -- but it does show how little it takes to get a good amount of snow moving. I did have moments where I was less scared of my slough and actually made some decent turns like a competent skier.
Overall, I really can’t speak highly enough of the whole experience. I’m definitely going to try to get back in a few years, this time with the intention of pushing myself a bit and skiing some more committing terrain. I can only hope the weather cooperates, but if not, I’ve got some ping pong to play, some bald eagles to watch, and an excuse to try again.
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