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ARAPAHOE BASIN — One can learn more about terrain and snowpack in Colorado than anywhere in the world, Alaska heli guide and world freeskier Dean Cummings said.
Here, the snowpack is never perfect.
“If you listen to the mountains, they will tell you what you can do and can't do,” Cummings said. He was being literal. Cracks, creaks and ‘whomps' of settling snow will signal instability, he said. Often, Cummings will ask his guests or his companions to quiet down while he edges out onto a slope to listen.
Cummings was at Arapahoe Basin last week, giving skiing hotshots a chance to test his line of skis that launched late last season and sharing his knowledge with a broader audience through “The Steep Life,” a video that touches on some of Cummings' safety protocols in the backcountry.
“It's all about the route,” Cummings said, after those gathered outside the 6th Alley Bar watched him descend 60-degree ridges on Meteorite's Dragon's Back and rappel onto the 70-degree snowfield below The Tusk in Alaska.
He'd been scoping the lines for more than 15 years, he said, and between proper route-choosing and awaiting the right conditions (and opting to turn back several times), he was able to carve the first ski lines onto the mountain's arms.
He said he learned it all in Colorado. The World Extreme Skiing champion (1995) lived in Montezuma for a long time, where he skinned up to his off-grid cabin at Marlin Mine, near Sts. John mine. He trained on Winter Park's and Keystone's “hard bumps” and made the U.S. Ski Team. He also climbed just about every peak in the area higher than 13,000 feet.
“I took things I learned in Colorado to create guide protocol in Alaska,” he said, explaining that when he first arrived in Alaska, there were more avalanche fatalities there than in Colorado — and far fewer backcountry users. It wasn't proportional, he said.
“There wasn't much advising and forecasting going on,” Cummings said. When Colorado began educating and spreading awareness about avalanche conditions, fatality statistics lowered dramatically. In Alaska, being able to pioneer so many of the unnamed peaks — and takes guests out to do the same — came down to protocol.
“The Steep Life is our life ... it's also about being safe,” Cummings said. “There's no way you can control it all.”
In his film, Cummings makes no mistake — literally and figuratively. He doesn't fall during the extreme descents. The audience should know: He has roughly five cameras (on his equipment, in the helicopter and on an adjacent peak) filming his every move. And he shows every move in the video — all while explaining what he was thinking, his nervousness, and “piecing (the route) together.”
In other words, he's giving the audience a chance to see how he's in it not just to ski the line, but to ski it safely.
“You gotta work up to it ... You don't just go do this stuff because you're confident,” Cummings said, reprimanding today's dependency on technology like beacons, avalanche airbags, Recco devices and more. Though it's great to have the technology, it's better to use one's brain and clues from the mountain to determine what line will let you live another day.
Cummings brought the Colorado basics to Alaska: Ski safe zone to safe zone. Ensure that all skiers have a visual or verbal link to each other. Make a slope analysis from a safe place. And most importantly: Stay out of avalanche terrain by skiing the ridges, perched high enough to see what's going on, and out of the way of potential slides.
“If everything became liquid in the mountains, where would it go?” Cummings is fond of saying. He envisions this every time he scopes a line, locating anchoring factors like trees and rocks as well as places that will shed the water, like concave and convex slopes. His go to place? The ridges and hips of the mountain. It's where the snow will stay, he said.
“If anything were to slide, it would part around me,” Cummings said. “It was the place to be.”
In both his “The Steep Life” descents, Cummings split a ridge, getting air off the Dragon's Back and weaving his way down the hip of The Tusk.
“It was 1,000 feet of the biggest, most amazing spine you could ride,” Cummings said of the Dragon's Back, adding that when he came to the 60-degree pitch, he stopped with his ski tips hanging off the east side of the spine and his tails hanging off the west side.
“It was just like heaven,” he said, as he caught his breath in the video and scoped out the next portion of his descent. Part of the process, he said, was to conserve his energy to have strength through the crux moves — and to not lose himself and his grip on the mountain.
Cummings spent time talking key components of the Colorado backcountry, from the basics to the minute details that often get overlooked, like keeping backpack straps tight and listening to friends click into their bindings.
As for this season in the backcountry, Cummings' message was no different from the others: “We're really up for some wild stuff this year. This is a great year to learn. This is not a year to get after it.”
Here, the snowpack is never perfect.
“If you listen to the mountains, they will tell you what you can do and can't do,” Cummings said. He was being literal. Cracks, creaks and ‘whomps' of settling snow will signal instability, he said. Often, Cummings will ask his guests or his companions to quiet down while he edges out onto a slope to listen.
Cummings was at Arapahoe Basin last week, giving skiing hotshots a chance to test his line of skis that launched late last season and sharing his knowledge with a broader audience through “The Steep Life,” a video that touches on some of Cummings' safety protocols in the backcountry.
“It's all about the route,” Cummings said, after those gathered outside the 6th Alley Bar watched him descend 60-degree ridges on Meteorite's Dragon's Back and rappel onto the 70-degree snowfield below The Tusk in Alaska.
He'd been scoping the lines for more than 15 years, he said, and between proper route-choosing and awaiting the right conditions (and opting to turn back several times), he was able to carve the first ski lines onto the mountain's arms.
He said he learned it all in Colorado. The World Extreme Skiing champion (1995) lived in Montezuma for a long time, where he skinned up to his off-grid cabin at Marlin Mine, near Sts. John mine. He trained on Winter Park's and Keystone's “hard bumps” and made the U.S. Ski Team. He also climbed just about every peak in the area higher than 13,000 feet.
“I took things I learned in Colorado to create guide protocol in Alaska,” he said, explaining that when he first arrived in Alaska, there were more avalanche fatalities there than in Colorado — and far fewer backcountry users. It wasn't proportional, he said.
“There wasn't much advising and forecasting going on,” Cummings said. When Colorado began educating and spreading awareness about avalanche conditions, fatality statistics lowered dramatically. In Alaska, being able to pioneer so many of the unnamed peaks — and takes guests out to do the same — came down to protocol.
“The Steep Life is our life ... it's also about being safe,” Cummings said. “There's no way you can control it all.”
In his film, Cummings makes no mistake — literally and figuratively. He doesn't fall during the extreme descents. The audience should know: He has roughly five cameras (on his equipment, in the helicopter and on an adjacent peak) filming his every move. And he shows every move in the video — all while explaining what he was thinking, his nervousness, and “piecing (the route) together.”
In other words, he's giving the audience a chance to see how he's in it not just to ski the line, but to ski it safely.
“You gotta work up to it ... You don't just go do this stuff because you're confident,” Cummings said, reprimanding today's dependency on technology like beacons, avalanche airbags, Recco devices and more. Though it's great to have the technology, it's better to use one's brain and clues from the mountain to determine what line will let you live another day.
Cummings brought the Colorado basics to Alaska: Ski safe zone to safe zone. Ensure that all skiers have a visual or verbal link to each other. Make a slope analysis from a safe place. And most importantly: Stay out of avalanche terrain by skiing the ridges, perched high enough to see what's going on, and out of the way of potential slides.
“If everything became liquid in the mountains, where would it go?” Cummings is fond of saying. He envisions this every time he scopes a line, locating anchoring factors like trees and rocks as well as places that will shed the water, like concave and convex slopes. His go to place? The ridges and hips of the mountain. It's where the snow will stay, he said.
“If anything were to slide, it would part around me,” Cummings said. “It was the place to be.”
In both his “The Steep Life” descents, Cummings split a ridge, getting air off the Dragon's Back and weaving his way down the hip of The Tusk.
“It was 1,000 feet of the biggest, most amazing spine you could ride,” Cummings said of the Dragon's Back, adding that when he came to the 60-degree pitch, he stopped with his ski tips hanging off the east side of the spine and his tails hanging off the west side.
“It was just like heaven,” he said, as he caught his breath in the video and scoped out the next portion of his descent. Part of the process, he said, was to conserve his energy to have strength through the crux moves — and to not lose himself and his grip on the mountain.
Cummings spent time talking key components of the Colorado backcountry, from the basics to the minute details that often get overlooked, like keeping backpack straps tight and listening to friends click into their bindings.
As for this season in the backcountry, Cummings' message was no different from the others: “We're really up for some wild stuff this year. This is a great year to learn. This is not a year to get after it.”
