Outside the Ropes

It’s been called “slackcountry” or “sidecountry” or, given the frustrations of patrollers with rope-ducking miscreants, “a damn headache.” Most call it backcountry. It’s the area outside of operational and permitted boundaries of a ski resort that beckons both the prepared (who travel with avalanche beacons, shovels, probes, and the knowledge to use them) and the unprepared (who rely on hope and good luck) with untouched powder, no crowds, and steep terrain.

Once an activity for only the most experienced and proficient skiers and snowboarders, venturing beyond the boundaries is now a thing for weekend warriors, too. The growth of specialized backcountry equipment is one of the bright spots for snowsports retailers over the past few seasons, and shows little sign of abating. How to manage backcountry access, as well as guest expectations, is becoming a perplexing but perhaps lucrative issue for mountain operations staff across North America.

“Sidecountry?” says Jackson Hole Resort’s Anna Cole. “We do not like that term.” For Cole and the operations staff at Wyoming’s biggest resort, sidecountry is a word that, while it accurately denotes terrain immediately adjacent to the ski area, also has the inaccurate connotation that it is safer than what lies farther afield. And, given the massive cliffs, steep avalanche chutes, and dangerous pitches that lurk a stone’s throw away from the resort’s boundaries, that assumption of safety is erroneous and dangerous.

“Directly outside our ski area boundary are hazardous cliffs,” says Cole. “There are avalanche paths. We are trying to educate our guests that what they are entering is an unknown. And to do this we have increased our on-mountain communications.”

Cole says that the emphasis on communications is a change that has happened over time. Previously, there was a “don’t talk” culture about the backcountry skiing at Jackson Hole. Indeed, legal access beyond Jackson’s ropes is relatively new. The resort’s boundaries had a hard closure up until 1999, when the first backcountry access gates were opened.

The backcountry gates at Jackson HolePart of the new approach, says Cole, is to educate people about the real dangers that exist outside the ski area boundaries, because a lack of knowledge can be fatal. Last winter, two inexperienced visitors exited one of the resort’s backcountry access gates and died after going off of a massive cliff.

“That incident could have easily been averted,” says Cole, who cites a variety of measures that the resort has taken to educate both locals and visitors alike about the risks of exiting the ski area.

“One of the most impactful is adding a new message to our announcements at the top of the Tram,” she says. “It’s a safety message about if you are considering going into the backcountry to have a partner, a plan and proper gear. If you don’t know, don’t go.”

It’s a fine line, admits Cole. “We really want this place to stay wild, for people to come to ski this terrain, and we feel very lucky we have a great relationship with the national park [Teton National Park abuts the northern boundary of the ski area], Teton County Search and Rescue, and the community.

“The community that skis in Jackson Hole wants people to be educated and be safe,” she adds. “We don’t want to see more accidents. The worst case is a backcountry user who is unfamiliar with the terrain and who injures or kills someone below them by triggering an avalanche.”

In this regard, Cole says that social media, along with the new proactive and education-focused communications outreach that the resort has implemented through its employees, is a powerful tool in preventing accidents before they happen.

The Gear Revolution

Given the growth in sales of backcountry gear, it’s an unfortunate reality that as more people go outside the ropes, more accidents could happen.

“We are seeing continued growth from what was a very tough winter,” says Kevin Luby, digital brand strategist for Scarpa, a hardgoods equipment manufacturer that focuses on backcountry, ski mountaineering, and randonee gear. “I think the growth will be long term,” adds Luby. “Skiing the sport isn’t growing, so most of this growth is coming out of the existing participation.”

But, says Luby, there’s the opportunity for resorts to capture new participants—particularly consumers who like to earn their turns—due to the fitness aspect of backcountry skiing.

“Once you inject fitness into it, it opens it up to a whole other audience,” Luby says. “Particularly the year-round athlete. Sidecountry, backcountry, uphilling—if marketed correctly, this is an avenue for those people. It poses a better opportunity to reach new audiences. Once you show them this non-lift-served side of the sport that takes place in a beautiful natural environment, that’s fitness oriented, it’s easy for them to consider getting involved.”

Resort-Based Guided Skiing

Luby concedes that these newbies will need education—not only on how to use the equipment (he cites demos and guiding services as ways for resorts to capture revenue streams from these clients), but also when it comes to snow safety. “What we would like to see is resort-based guided skiing,” he says.

That’s exactly what is happening at Colorado’s Loveland Ski Area as it looks to enhance its terrain offerings outside of its current operational boundary, but within its Special Use Permit area.

Loveland has been offering non-guided cat skiing already. Its Ridge Cat serves inbounds terrain off of Continental Divide. The in-bounds cat operation has proved so popular that the mountain began exploring how it could add more adventure-type terrain to the mix.

For the future, the resort is looking to add guided cat skiing on terrain adjacent to the current boundary; this acreage has been accessible by hike only. “This terrain is all within our special use boundaries,” says Loveland’s John Sellers. “But it is outside of operational boundaries, and is not controlled or maintained.”

Guides lead skiers into the backcountry at Loveland, Colo., for a mellow, introductory experience.Loveland started working toward a guided backcountry experience last season, with patrollers taking small groups into this terrain.

“We’re not looking to take people into avalanche terrain,” says Sellers, who emphasizes that the area slated for guided skiing is not steep. “It’s not for the experienced backcountry user. It’s a beginner intermediate experience, relatively mellow, fun skiing, great snow.”

Sellers says backcountry know-how will be part of the package. “We will be including educational aspects into the day, with safety protocols, equipment checks, ski check, ski test, and will be doing this all inside the boundary. Then we’ll head out the gate,” he says.

“When we first started going back there, there were a lot of questions about how we would do it and what type of guests we’d take,” adds Sellers. “But if a guest wants to go explore a new zone, learn about beacon work and snow safety, it’s a great experience. We are introducing education about backcountry gates, how to enter and exit. The snow back there is great, not a ton of people ski it.”

Sellers is bullish on the future for the program. “It is logical to expand our backcountry offerings,” he says. “All you have to do is look at the stats to see the spike in equipment sales. We expect it to continue to grow.”

Staying In-Bounds

Not all resorts are so optimistic, or as ideally suited, for this type of expansion. While Loveland has the ability to take customers out gates into terrain that’s wilder and untouched, that’s not an option at Taos Ski Valley. The mountain has a hard closure policy, and managers there don’t see the potential for backcountry access gates in the near future.

“The philosophy of increasing our gladed terrain is to get big on the inside rather than on the outside,” says ski patrol director Robert Scram. He admits that the discussion about gates is “open internally” but concedes, “There is nothing on paper with the Forest Service.”

“Can we go that route?” asks Scram. “Maybe. For access points from the area, we would have to apply to the USFS, and we haven’t done the groundwork, the discovery, the looking at it from our own side, our rescue capabilities, our personnel. What’s the liability? It’s an open discussion.”

Scram agrees that education is key. But unlike Jackson, Taos doesn’t have a savvy local population of skiers and boarders well versed in backcountry safety, and the mountain can’t rely on local rescue services, either. There’s nothing akin to a well-funded, well-organized volunteer rescue organization such as Jackson’s Teton Valley Search and Rescue. That would put the burden on the resort to handle out-of-bounds incidents.
But even Taos is taking baby steps toward backcountry education. This season, for the first time, its avalanche forecasting services will include the surrounding wilderness area. And patrol plans to beef up educational opportunities for locals, particularly resort staffers.

“We are taking the baby steps on the forecast side and really pushing the educational side of that in a more organized way,” says Scram. “We are going to have people dedicated to it.”

Backcountry Ambassadors

The seductive steep and deep terrain of Bear Creek, just outside of Telluride. This focus on educating locals and then using them as frontline soldiers in the war against backcountry ignorance is also a work in progress at Colorado’s Telluride Mountain Resort. Telluride is home to Bear Creek Canyon, an easily accessible sector just outside the resort boundary that is a maze of discontinuous terrain, peppered with high-angle avalanche chutes.

“We have a fairly small community around here,” says Telluride’s snow safety supervisor John Tuckman. “It’s not like you don’t know who is out there all the time and who is letting it all hang out.”

For Tuckman, outreach to backcountry users starts with a monthly avalanche forum, which runs throughout the season. “The very first one of those is in December,” he says. “It is always about ski resort boundary policy, backcountry access protocols, and some of the issues of using the backcountry outside the resort. That’s a big part of our public education.”

Tuckman adds, “We support the local avy center and some of the other local outfits that are providing classes, but we are not in the business of being up on the ridge and making sure that people have avy gear with them when they leave the resort.” To address those individuals, Tuckman says the resort has “improved the signage in the area and at the access points.”

“We want to force people to think about where they are going and communicate with other users,” he says. “It’s making people understand that they have to have communication with the people around them, and a quick way get info to us or the Sheriff’s department in case of an incident.”

Still, Tuckman concedes that it’s a constant battle. “We see a lot of people from the community, as well as destination customers and weekend warriors. They see tracks and they get powder fever, and they see the gates and start dropping through the gates with little knowledge of terrain and no rescue equipment,” he says.

Because of this, and the prevalence of inexperienced backcountry skiers, education remains the best strategy to combat needless backcountry accidents immediately outside ski area boundaries.

“Education is going to become a bigger issue for us going forward,” Tuckman says. “It’s getting to the point where the destination guest is understanding that it [Bear Creek] is part of the experience, so it will become something that we are going to be more focused on.”

“You can ski right to the bar,” adds Tuckman of the steep, deep and seductive terrain of Telluride’s Bear Creek. “It’s very European. And it can be fantastic skiing. The growth trajectory of having the access and having it known and having the users know it is there means that as it becomes more central to a destination user, we need to make sure that their experience can be as safe as it can be.”