Skiing

Skiing By Fair Means

In 1997 Adrian Nature climbed to the North summit of Denali and skied alone down the 14,000-foot Wickersham Wall, the biggest face in North America. Rumor has it, at one point the skiing became so steep that he tossed his pack, retrieving it further down. Then he fell but managed to stop. Hours later, Nature crossed the flooding Muldrow River. It was the first solo and continuous ski descent of the face. A feat accomplished using his own power, starting from the base of the mountain, climbing to the top and skiing back down. Nature skied the Wickersham Wall by fair means.

The term by fair means describes climbing mountains using your strength and ability, while not degrading the mountain to make the ascent easier. By fair means is the purest style of mountaineering. It follows a set of unwritten ethics established by the mountaineering community. The same concepts of mountaineering by fair means can be applied to skiing. 

By fair means was coined by English mountaineer Albert Mummery, who in 1880 backed off the coveted first ascent of the Dent du Géant, a 4,000-meter tooth of rock on the Mont Blanc massif in France. Upon defeat, Mummery said, "Absolutely inaccessible by fair means!" The first ascent of the Dent du Géant came later, in 1882, using iron stanchions, fixed rope and chipped steps. The route is now equipped with thick ropes for climbing hand-over-hand to avoid 5.10 rock climbing.

Without style and ethics in the mountains, what do we really have?
— Adam Fabrikant, 2024 AAJ. 

By fair means is a style of moving through the mountains. It describes the manner, skill and equipment used. For example, the best mountaineers use alpine style to move fast and light, as a self-sufficient unit up the mountain. Alpinists—those who climb in alpine style—avoid using fixed ropes, fixed camps, or bottled oxygen. Such as the recent alpine-style ascent of the north face of Jannu. Alpine style is the antithesis of expedition style, where high altitude mountains are climbed by any means necessary: large teams, bottled oxygen, porters, fixed ropes and bolts.  

Imagine using a step ladder to dunk a basketball.
— Mark Jenkins, The Elements of Style

For skiing, the most common style is mechanized skiing. A machine—chairlift, gondola, snowcat, snowmobile, or helicopter—lifts the skier to the top of the run. The difficulty of the mountain has been reduced, making it attainable for more skiers, like expedition style. 

Backcountry skiing is equivalent to alpine style. The skier starts at the base of the mountain, ascends the mountain using their skill and strength before making the run. The mountain is approached on its own terms, without using aids to make it easier, or degrading the mountain. 

Where exactly is the line between mechanized skiing and skiing by fair means? Most backcountry skiers use cars to get to the trailhead. What if a snowmobile is used for a ten-mile approach, before climbing to the summit? Is that backcountry skiing? Is that by fair means? It becomes an ethical gray area. In alpinism, the community has drawn an acceptable line. As the late alpinist Hayden Kennedy said, "It's not a kindergarten black and white...the naked free solo."

Part of what bolsters the credentials of skiing by fair means is that it foregoes a guaranteed outcome. While you may want to climb and ski a mountain, there’s a good chance you won’t. An equally likely outcome is to fail because of weather, avalanche conditions, strength or skill. The summit or a glorious descent are not guaranteed. By fair means requires a mindset shift to seeing failure as equal to success, and style as more important than success. It’s “more of an art and less of a conquest,” writes alpinist Kelly Cordes. We approach nature on its own terms and be challenged. Then nature often wins, like it's supposed to. 

The quality of the experience and how we solve a problem is more important than whether we solve it. We strive to leave no trace.
— Tyrol Declaration

Another beautiful aspect of skiing by fair means is that it’s slow. Not only does it take time to climb the mountain, but it takes years to acquire the skiing and avalanche skills. Those years of practice build appreciation for the mountains. Likewise, the time-consuming act of climbing the mountain gives more appreciation for the mountains, not just a myopic focus on the summit or the brief descent. The anticipation and delayed gratification of possibly skiing the peak, or arriving back at the base of the mountain alive, brings greater highs when success is achieved and greater lows from failure. All that leads to happiness. Ultimately, happiness is what we’re after. 

It’s time we... searched again for the limits of possibility—for we must have such limits if we are going to use the virtue of courage to approach them.
— Rheinhold Messner, The Murder of the Impossible

A final positive note about by fair means is that it demonstrates a world-view. Backcountry skiers know that wild places on Earth are few. Skiing by fair means saves those wild places for everyone. Foregoing the archaic attitude of man over nature. 

Even the most diehard practitioners of by fair means find themselves in that ethical grey area. I use helicopters and airplanes for skiing. Sometimes to reach summits, sometimes to base camps and sometimes to fly to other countries to ski. My preferred method of skiing, though, is to park along the highway, skin and climb to a summit, and then ski back to the car. If I do use a machine to get up the hill, I try to acknowledge that there is a better style. That I am playing foosball, when I could be kicking a real ball. 

More Reading

  • Albert, Jason and Fabrikant, Adam 2024, Grand Descents: A Half Century of Ski Alpinism in the Tetons, American Alpine Journal.

  • Cordes, Kelly, 2014, The Tower: A Chronicle of Climbing and Controversy on Cerro Torre

  • Messner, Reinhold, 1971, The Murder of the Impossible, Mountain #15. 

  • Jenkins, Mark, 2005, The Elements of Style: It's time for a radical reform of high-altitude mountaineering and a fresh debate over what it means to climb right, Outsideonline.com, www.outsideonline.com/1909956/elements-style

  • Kennedy, Hayden, 2012, The Enormocast, Episode 7, an interview with Hayden Kennedy: Alpine Taliban or Patagonian Custodian? Part 2. 

  • The Tyrol Declaration on Best Practice in Mountain Sports, www.theuiaa.org/upload_area/files/1/tyrol_declaration(0).pdf

2016 Denali Ski Base Camps

Among back-to-back trips last spring I had four Denali Ski Base Camps. Each trip confirmed my Denali addiction. It's not the kind of addiction that involves manhauling for days on snowshoes. Rather it's the kind of Denali addiction that involves skiing stable powder in big mountains with passionate people from around the world. 

The first trip started with big weather. That's what can happen in big mountains. Here's Austin Ranz and Philipp Becker storm skiing in the Ruth Amphitheater. They are friends of Brint Markle (not in photo) who I skied with in 2013

After the rager storm, it cleared and the Alaska Range emerged in typical glory.  

Brint testing a prototype of an Avatech snow measurement tool. Brint is the CEO of Avatech, a company that has tackled long-standing problems in snow measurement and information sharing. The company is going huge this year with Mountain Hub.   

Mike Schmid and Bryan Herold, back in the Alaska Range. This was our third trip together including the Western Chugach and a Denali Ski Base Camp in 2015

Mike modeling and testing snow quality for me. He does a good job. 

Booting two thousand feet of powder-filled coulie.

Mike below a run we called Flat Mike. At the summit, we took photos of Flat Stanley (a paper cartoon character) for his son. While in the chute, Mike took the skier's right gully, below the massive cornice. Watching from below, Bryan and I worried we'd be getting some flat Mike photos if the 40-foot cornice snapped off and steam-rolled Mike. 

Mike doubling down on burgers.

First step into the Alaska Range with four Scots: Al Conroy, Jonny Lonie, Becca Rankine and Tom Collins. 

First tour of the trip with the Scots.

Safe zone to safe zone in pow-filled coulies.  

Mid-afternoon noodle break before another run. 

Next year I want to ski out there, in those shady slopes and chutes. Anyone keen to go exploring with me? 

Becca below an ice cliff. Leading into this line was the epitome of guiding for me: onsight in big complex terrain. A few days earlier, Canadian IFMGA Mountain Guide Cece Mortenson told me how lack of spotters had been a factor in some recent avalanche accidents in Canada, including Robson Moser. Following Cece's reminder to always have a spotter, I used a talkabout radio to leap frog a spotter down above me. At one point I made steep powder turns above this ice cliff, with Jonny spotting, until I found a sneak to skier's right, into this pow-filled glacier-bowl. My only mistake was not getting some ice for our selection of Scotch. 

Becca modeling for my camera and testing snow quality into an unknown glacial basin. This valley exited into rolling moraine and a hanging terrace back to camp. 

We camped near Jim and Sarah Sogi. They live in Hawaii and ski around the world, wherever the snow is good, which means I often see them in Alaska. Each evening we socialized with Jim and Sarah at their nearby luxury camp. 

Booting another coulie to ski it's fluffy surface. I find photos of climbing chutes more captivating than photos of skiing chutes. Perhaps it's because the untracked snow gives that feeling of wanting to know what's ahead. Anticipation is much of the allure of backcountry skiing. 

A few hours after leaving our neighborhood, Oliver Evans, Amy Downing and Ben Crawford (out of photo) summit an Alaska Range peak. Last year Oliver and I skied steep north facing powder in the Western Chugach. This year we planned to ski again, somewhere. As the date approached, conditions looked best in the Alaska Range. 

Base camp. Jim Sogi loaned me this vestibule for my Hilleberg Atlas. 

Powder and corn in early May.  

Beating the afternoon heat. 

The Broken Tooth.

Clouds cloaked our mountains on the third day, so we skied near the rocks for visibility. This was a striking chute that I'd ogled over last spring. 

Amy ready to ski.  

After two runs among the rocks, we headed back to the tent and listened to an entire season of Serial, about an Army deserter in Afghanistan. At 6pm, Pilot Paul Roderick picked us up to return to Talkeetna. 

We stopped at the Ruth Gorge base camp to pick up some French climbers. Back in Talkeetna, we realized the small town was packed with weather-delayed climbers waiting to fly in. Turns out, our flight was the first and only flight all day. Paul is good to us like that. 

Thanks for the fun trips everyone!