Backcountry sports are the most thrilling winter activities imaginable. From snowshoeing and cross-country skiing to alpine skiing and hiking, nothing can match the feeling of adventure and discovery experienced while traveling, literally, off the beaten path. Unsurprisingly, this type of adventure comes with its share of risks. The most common, obvious, and deadly? Avalanches. Yes, you heard that right—Nordic skiing requires a careful study of avalanche warnings.
You might be thinking: I thought avalanches only affected mountains. I thought only downhill skiers needed to worry about them. In fact, an avalanche will destroy everything in its path; it one occurs far enough down the mountain, or if it gains enough speed, it will blow through roads, towns, and valleys. This means your backcountry Nordic skiing—even your trail-specific Nordic skiing—could be at risk.
Take note: I am not advocating for Nordic ski abstinence. In fact, this danger makes the sport even more thrilling. I am, however, advocating for proper education and preparation in case you get caught up on an avalanche while doing some backcountry exploring. Appropriate preparation begins with reading the Avalanche Danger Scale. Before setting off on a backcountry trip—whether you’re planning to just take the day or do a week-long camp—check the Avalanche Danger Scale reporting for your area and date. This tool is used by avalanche forecasters to broadcast the potential for avalanches in a specific area. Avalanche terrain is often defined as a steep slope, but if you see a high avalanche danger reading, avoid that particular area—a steep slope inevitably leads to a soft plateau, and when the snow starts spilling, it won’t matter that you were on flat land.
In addition to reading the daily avalanche forecast, all backcountry explorers—whether you’re doing some alpine skiing, hiking, or Nordic skiing—should have an avalanche pack. No matter your chosen sport, you should always carry a small shovel and an avalanche receiver and probe. If you’re caught up, these tools will allow you to create an air pocket and send out a signal with your exact location. Most importantly, always wear a helmet.
Now, this post is not meant to scare you. It’s not even meant to make you afraid of avalanches. These natural slides occur with enough frequency that they have become a part of backcountry life. I just want you, dear readers and fellow Nordic ski enthusiasts, to be safe, stay prepared, and anticipate danger.
For some, okay for many, downhill runs and terrain parks are the best—if not the only kind of skiing. For thrills and technical expertise, they can’t be beat. But cross-country skiing has a ton going for it, too. Now, it’s easy to think there are two “camps,” cross-country vs. downhill, but pretty much every instance I can remember with friends and acquaintances, it’s more like a sibling rivalry—or even a lover’s quarrel. Now ski vs. snowboard…that’s a legit kerfuffle.
Me? I love it all, but I do think it’s cross-country skiing that gets my vote for most underrated thing you can do on skis and maybe the most underrated winter sport overall. The thing is, I’ve heard a lot of people talk about how cross-country skiing is a “full-body workout.” Okay, I’m not going dispute that cross-country is an amazing workout experience, but it’s not as though downhill can’t also be intense exercise to go with its thrills and lift rides. I will say, too, that I’ve never really understood the significance of a “full-body workout.” Golf is a full-body workout in the sense that it uses all your muscle groups, while simultaneously engaging your sense of balance. But a round of golf is not comparable to a day in the alpine backcountry on your skis and poles. It’s just an experience unlike any other. The quiet and the not so quiet. The solitude of the wilderness broken by the sight of wildlife, sometimes the terrifying sight of a mountain lion or an agitated moose. The conversation and social aspect of those who are with you on this adventure. The personal challenge of determining what you’re capable of. The initial excitement and novelty of getting dropped off by a snow-cat or heli-skiing. I’m an unabashed Nordic Nerd.
Cross-country skiing, for me, means exploring the western United States in a truly intimate way. There’s Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, Utah, Oregon, Washington, and California. There’s also the question of personal safety. The occasional encounter with large alpine fauna notwithstanding, serious downhill skiing can be hazardous to your health. Whether you’re a youth telling your friends to “Watch this!” or you’ve become increasingly susceptible to strains and sprains over the years, you never know when you’re going to get a serious injury. Who follows best practices all the time? All right, fine, I admit the prospect of turning out a knee or seriously throwing out my back could get dicey pretty quickly, but it hasn’t happened yet. I mention it, too, because I’ve been going on more and more overnight backcountry ski trips.
Look, I can do the mountain resort experience with the fine dining and hot tubs in your private room and bar scenes with live music and strong drinks. But I also love roughing it and don’t need every meal to taste like someone sacrificed a piece of their soul to make it. Plus, there’s nothing like getting back to the lodge after a long backcountry ski trip. I guess, it’s kind of like my version of a soft masochism in which the focus isn’t just aimless flagellation so much as the relief that comes after the pain is over. It’s kind of a cure or at least a treatment for the claustrophobia I feel when I’ve been on the same mountain or terrain park for too long. Skiing has always been getting to the next horizon for me, and it’s true literally even more so than figuratively.