Kook Deluxe

“Do you remember your first day riding in the backcountry...how did that turn out?”

It’s a question I’ve asked our instructors to consider as we all prepare for what promises to be an exceptionally different season than anything we’ve experienced prior. FOBP’s field team possesses decades of accumulated knowledge and experience, but we all started somewhere. This year we’re hoping to share anecdotes from our instructors that highlight their first backcountry memories, mistakes, and the paths they’ve taken to get to where they are now. Owing to the fact that regardless of experience, nobody is an expert in the backcountry, and with a nod towards surfing lingo for novices, we’re calling this series Kook 2 Kook Deluxe. Hopefully you find these stories entertaining, insightful, or all of the above..

-Sam  

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I spent my first backcountry ski day on snowshoes. Forgive me for I have sinned. Given the proliferation of “jerry” shaming, you’d be excused for assuming that traveling uphill on anything other than a hyper-efficient touring setup warrants skintrack seppuku. But this was 2006, just before the explosion in touring gear innovation, and era aside I’d already blown my college freshman budget on the safety gear (beacon, shovel, probe) required for backcountry travel. 

Yes long before joining FOBP and being swept up in the fast-paced lifestyle of international celebrity, sponsorship, and the all expenses paid powder vacations that our instructors enjoy, I was a backcountry kook, and I spent day one trudging out of the Current Creek lot at Berthoud Pass with snowshoes and alpine race boots on my feet and skis on my back. Wearing a green raincoat, I was a gumby in every sense of the word.

Gumby enjoys Berthoud Pass 2008 Photo: Robby Scribner

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I don’t remember much about my first day of touring (ahem, slogging), and this became a theme of those early trips; outings replete with lots of questions, self doubt, and forgettable ski conditions. While my friends and I had enough knowledge to stay safe (mostly by avoiding avalanche terrain completely), we were sorely lacking in all the other areas of backcountry know-how. We’d head out without a well-developed plan, and inevitably end up skiing “the same run we did last time” or get lost when trying to ski something new. Our approach back then is best summarized by Einstein’s definition of insanity - “doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” Looking back, I’m grateful for a few things:

1. My mentor had formal avalanche training (AIARE 1)
2. My friends and I had a healthy fear of avalanches, and knew enough to carry BSP and stay in low-consequence terrain.   

Those first seasons were lessons in futility, but gradually we got better.

Actual footage of the author and his touring partners

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We started planning our trips and routes ahead of time. We gained a deeper understanding of how snow, terrain, and weather affect avalanche (and skiing!) conditions.  We used....maps!  And we ALL got formal avalanche training.   

Each year that has passed since that first day on snowshoes has brought a new range of experiences both euphoric and “educational”. I progressed slowly and backcountry skied intermittently for 6 years until I was confident enough in my skillset to commit precious vacation days to a major “backcountry only” trip outside of Colorado. 

Alaska 2012: Lessons in scale Photos: Ryan Dawson

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This year will be my 15th season of backcountry skiing, and I now spend the majority of my days touring in Colorado and the surrounding western states.

I’ve taken AIARE courses up through Level 2, teach awareness classes every year, and seek out and review avalanche-centric information more than most, but I’ve yet to be bestowed with a secret password that would allow me to ski steep powder whenever I want.

All this to say that the road to becoming a competent backcountry traveler is a long one. If you’re at the start of your journey this season, enjoy it for what it is; an overload of new information, new gear, new movements, and new responsibilities. There are many more educational resources at your disposal than there were in 2006. Use them! Focus on safety and maintaining a wide margin for error. Be patient.

Summit of Rainier 2017: Ropework = not dialed Photo: Dave Pfeiffer

Showing my Dad around Rogers Pass, BC 2019

Ski (Touring) “The ‘East” 2016

If you’re an experienced user, remember where you started, and how far we all have to go before becoming practiced, informed decision makers. You will likely encounter a higher number of new users in your favorite zones this season. Do yourself and the backcountry community a favor and be an asset to the newbies. If given an opportunity to steer somebody in the right direction, up their margin of safety, etc. take it. Be patient.

Regardless of your experience level, know that backcountry skiing and riding is not something you learn in a day, a week, or even a season. It demands a commitment to continual self assessment and improvement. Nobody should expect to learn everything in their first season, and everybody should regularly evaluate their skillset and methods, regardless of experience. As a novice the learning curve can be daunting, but I’ve found that one of the more rewarding aspects of this sport is that there’s always something to learn, a skill to improve, and benefits to be had by putting in the work each season. Enjoy the process.

KookDeluxe enjoys Berthoud Pass 2020 Photo: Zach Wilson

Author - Sam Strait

Sam has been a field instructor with FOBP since 2012, and is currently serving on FOBPs board of advisors and helping manage outreach efforts