Everything thing I’ve ever read, seen or heard about the Chugach is true. I get this feeling that most of the media that has been made here hasn’t been on the uber gnar but rather the most user friendly places in the zone; that’s how rowdy it is here. The zone is a long way from being played out.

I drop in first, after the guide of course, and after tagging one rock it’s deep and steep for 1500ft. The snow is bomber and deep and I go for a left hand barrel variation, which is all good. The high fives at the bottom officially celebrate 4 Alaskan heli newbies losing their innocence and becoming addicts. In one moment my ski life has changed, I’ve tasted and seen how good it can be in the Chugach and I’m not sure I’ll ever want anything but.

I thought we’d have to go mellow on our first runs to prove we could ski but we showed up with a good crew of vets, who vouched for us, and we were treated with big hits on our first run. It’s only our second day here and it appears we’ve hit one of the best days of the season. And it just kept getting better. Our next landing places us on top of the Cauliflowers and we drop a 3000ft coulior that is 40 degrees steep at it’s mellowest and the snow is thigh deep. Our guide sets up on top of the last knuckle and when B. skis up, he gets waved on to continue the last pitch. The other 3 standing with me at the top look at each other and smile, acknowledging that we get to send this thing top to bottom.

My legs are screaming at the bottom. I haven’t skied in a week and I’ve been sick. I can feel the pain and I’m panting like I just ran a marathon. There’s no time to rest however, because the heli is on it’s way back in and we have to get our kit prepared.

10 minutes later we’re back on top and our guide is taking us to a shorter line but it’s true north facing, it’s 50 degrees and the snow is waist deep. When our group of 5 gathers, this time at the bottom, we are all on sensory overload. We have a mellow shot down the glacier to the LZ (landing zone) and as we coast, Craig our guide is telling us that it’s not usually this good but I’m not really able to listen; I’m just trying to comprehend the last hour of my life. My brain is still stuck on the first run and we’ve got 3 in the bag already. I’m like a computer with really slow RAM. I’ve never skied so much amazing terrain in such a tight amount of time and I’m having trouble crunching the data.

The hits keep coming. As soon as the heli lands we load and are whisked to the top. We attempt to land on C4, the infamous place where Nobis’s ‘turn heard around the world’ is said to have taken place. The pilot tries in vain to get us down on the LZ, which is about the size of my living room mat. The winds are just too strong. DAMN! I wish we had that B2 chopper that is currently flying the private clients around today. One day I’ll have $75,000 to throw down for a week I vow. One day but not today.

We settle for seconds on another line that is still amazing. We milk the left hand side of a big ramp that the other group has already taken the middle of. No big deal. Maybe if we were filming it would have mattered but I don’t really care as long as I get my line untouched, which for the most part, I do.

We finally have some time to scarf some lunch and get a drink while our chopper goes to re-fuel. Behind us members from the other group come down from their run. I’m surprised to see a grey haired dude in his 60’s ski up to us; he just shredded a 3000 foot 45 degree coulior and I remark that he’s no ordinary heli client. He asks me about my helmet cam and we chat for a bit. After, I learn he’s a paragliding pioneer who lives in Utah. Heli crack addicts come in all shapes and sizes.

Our second last run has a toe-in landing. This means that only the front part of the skis of the heli are touching the snow as we set down and the pilot doesn’t power down but retains full control the whole time. “Nice and easy getting out” yells Craig as he opens the door. We gingerly step out onto a pad the size of a dinner table. I’m last out and there’s barely enough room for me to belly flop on the next body. We squeeze tight as the heli takes off, the skids are inches from us. When it’s quiet again we start our descent. Just another Alaskan ramp in the Cauli’s; 40 degrees plus in knee to thigh deep. I’m starting to get used it and wanting even more.


It’s all smiles at the bottom but we know that the day is almost over. We’ve got one more line to hit on the way back but then it’ll be over. I’m pressing the guide to see if he’ll let us stay out for more. There’s a major hit on the way home called Billy Mitchell North and I want it bad. I press him hard knowing that days like this don’t come around too often and we might just get it. Craig tells me not to get greedy but does try to get me in but there’s been a bunch of avi activity during the day with other groups and the reigns are not loose enough to grab the biggest hit. We settle for a sick shorter run called Blue Corn, which is still in all time condition.

At the bottom I’m still pressing for more. It’s not even 3pm and I know we should still go for it. I’m trying to convince our group to forget the $850 that we’ve already just spent each and get some more. But it’s only our second day here and there’s a lot of trip left. Everyone is hesitant to blow the whole wad on one day at the beginning, so alas we opt for beers in the muddy parking lot from where we came.

The debrief in our motor home is a mix of exuberant memories, high fives and beer that goes down like water. We all try to get a handle on the day and what it means to fly big hits in AK. There’s no doubt that we want more.

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